Bylerween + Miwip Wednesday
We know some of you have already begun work on your bylerween fanworks—and if you feel the desire to post snippets or sneak peeks for #miwip wednesday, please tag us @bylerween2023 and #bylerween2023 (if you don’t tag us, we won’t see it)!
We would love to reblog your wips and begin to generate hype for your contributions. As always, please adhere to our guidelines for readmores & trigger tagging.
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get in bitches we’re going miwip whursday 🏎️💨
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the document is only titled "drunk will confession angst" so... yeah :) happy miwip wednesday!
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lips like sugar: a 40k word @bylerbigbang fic coming to you on nov. 21st!!!
It’s 1990 and the party needs to raise money to help them get to their first ever Comic-Con! After their bake sale on their college campus fails miserably, the party decides to try something a little more exciting to raise cash: a kissing booth. To Mike’s surprise, Will volunteers to be on the receiving end of the smooching for the fundraiser.
Amidst mixed signals, secrets from a drunken party the year before, jealousy, a lot of note passing, and a surprise gift, Mike and Will are forced to confront their feelings.
here's a little snippet hehe:
it's a silly one, folks
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miwip wednesday ft a lil doodle hehe...
[text under the cut in case the images are hard to read]
So here he is, still awake and blatantly staring. Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Will’s chest—one of Mike’s shirts on him since none of his own clothes are in Hawkins anymore.
Mike has spent a lot of time staring at Will in his life, and once it finally clicked why he liked doing it so much, he’d become hyperaware. Constantly catching himself, trying to look less when other people were around, to go unnoticed, to be subtle. To figure out what amount of staring was normal between friends—sometimes it feels like everybody else already knows things like that, and he just missed the memo.
Will lets out a soft sigh as he shifts again. His head falls to the side, angled towards Mike, and the hand that had been resting on his stomach now lays by the side of his face. He’s got a better view of Will now for sure, and Mike wishes he didn’t feel like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to.
Because even in the low light, even with his eyes closed and his hair all messed up from twisting around in his sleep, Will is beautiful.
His fingers twitch ever so slightly, a blink-and-you’d-miss-it sort of thing, but Mike’s gaze is drawn to the movement. He doesn’t understand anything anymore, he doesn’t understand Will anymore after the last few days. But god, he wants to. He wants so much.
Most of all, at this moment at least, he wants to hold Will’s hand—like when they were little kids and that was something he was allowed to do.
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i love when i reread a section i haven’t worked on in a while and come across a part where i clearly stopped midway through a thought
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