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Part 1 of non-february femslash
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2025-12-06
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934
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1/1
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la femme d'argent

Summary:

Sitting up in her bed, with Mike on the floor, Will peers down at her, bangs flopping in front of her eyeline as she says, incredulously, “You want me to kiss you?”

Notes:

i imagine this takes place sometime around season 2, but have your pick, dear reader. i've always been a big fan of fem byler and i do hope i've done them justice!

 

quote by margaret atwood's cat's eye

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

don’t move, i think. stay like that, let me have that.

 

 

 

First, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, hands limp-wristed as they curl into fists in her lap, loose in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. Sitting up in her bed, with Mike on the floor, Will peers down at her, bangs flopping in front of her eyeline as she says, incredulously, “You want me to kiss you?” And then– Mike flushes, a pretty red on her cheeks and in that second, Will imagines slipping down onto Mike’s sleeping bag, clutching her shirt into her knuckle and pulling her forward– 

“Not like that,” Mike shakes her head, a rude little thing that has Will’s stomach doing a little flip despite herself. “Just like–” she fumbles, her curls bouncing with the motion. It’s a horrible, horrible thought to have, but Will thinks: would she want me to thread my hands through her hair as I kiss her? “Practice, you know! You’ve never kissed a boy before,” – which, ouch – “and I can like teach you, you know?” She shifts, pushing her sleeping bag down so her legs are untucked, then her feet are swinging over and– oh, she’s clambering up Will’s bed, so Will has to scrunch herself back, face pinking as Mike is suddenly all up in her space. “It’s just practice.”

“Just practice,” Will repeats, because Mike is leaning in, her long lashes fluttering and casting these little shadows across her freckles adorning the apples of her cheeks. Mike makes an exasperated sound, like she’s the one being put in this position, and places her palm flat on the curve of Will’s knee, where she’s sitting criss-cross. It burns through her.

Just practice,” Mike affirms, like an idiot. There’s a smear of a smile on her mouth and Will’s eyes dip down to it, not being able to catch herself in time, and maybe Mike sees this, because it grows wider under Will’s gaze. “So?”

Will sucks in a breath. They’re unfortunately very close, noses brushing, and Mike just– grins, like the cat that got the cream, digging her fingers a little into the bone and sure, Will runs cold, but right now, she’s so hot it’s– it’s unbearable. “So what?”

“So,” Mike says, “do you want to kiss me?”

I do, I really, really do. “Do you want to kiss me?

Mike huffs. “For practice,” she hums, before diving in and dragging her mouth to Will’s.

A hand comes up to curl around her cheek, thumb bracing the corner of her lip where Mike’s doesn’t quite fit over hers, but the palm on her knee stays put. Will’s comes clutching by her thighs, grasping the fabric of her bedsheets in a white grip; she doesn’t lean into the kiss, or away from it, except Mike pulls away all the same and looks down at her. She’s shrunk into herself. 

“C’mon,” Mike murmurs, swiping at the edge of Will’s mouth with a gentle fingertip. “It’s just me.”

And that– that must be all that Will needs, because she’s pulling Mike forward with her seize on Mike’s shirt, just like she imagined, and shit, is that her hand curling towards the back of Mike’s neck, twisting the curls into a fistful? Mike– 

All Mike does is push back with equal force: cups her entire palm around Will’s cheek, grips her jaw between fingers to tilt Will to the left, pulling her into Mike like she’s got magic in the tips of her short, bitten nails. It’s a little unladylike, just sort of, and Will doesn’t really care, not when Mike’s tongue is poking at the seam of her lips and she’s suddenly licking into her mouth. 

Startled, Will jerks, tightening her grip on Mike’s hair; Mike follows, keeping their kiss going even though surely they both need to breathe at some point, not letting Will run away, not this time. She chases after her and splays both of her hands – the heat trailing up up up Will’s arm, the one raised to Mike’s crown of black – on the sides of Will’s face, squishing Will’s cheeks together like she can’t contain the feelings inside her. 

Will feels like that – spilling out of the sides. 

Somewhere in the space between their first and second kiss, Mike has clambered rather ungraciously to lean over Will, her legs bracketing between Will’s hips, trying to get better purchase. It works, for what it’s worth. This way, Will has to tilt up even further and Mike’s hand slips down to the column of her neck, squeezing just a little. Not enough to cut off her airway, god, no; enough to make Will whine into the kiss as she feels the heat seep through Mike and into her, into the way she gasps for a breath of air stolen straight from Mike’s lungs.

Slipping backwards, Mike falls back onto the bed, squeaking with her weight and wrists bent behind her to compensate for the balance. She wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist, and Will almost wants to wrap her hand around it, feel the pulse stutter under and take it to her lips instead. Press a tender kiss to the spidering of her veins and watch Mike part her mouth open, tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Will wants so, so badly it hurts. She almost says so, reaching out to tangle her fingers with Mike’s, but Mike pulls back–

“Just for practice,” Mike says, dazed. Her eyes are dilated, black taking up the rest of the ring. 

Will– Will nods. Just– nods. 

Notes:

i like to imagine that their names are probably something along the lines of willow and michaela, but i just HAD to keep their nicknames.

 

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