[ynnu-64]

hunted

[artibear]

[grechgor]

They hugged after

[elcorhamletlive]

realizing I've been separating "secret HS relationship bychance" and "meeting later in NYC/California/wherever and beginning a romance bychance" in my brain like they're mutually exclusive, but they don't have to be? so I raise you: bychance secret S5 relationship that ends in varying degrees of tragic (either crashes and burns totally or just quietly dies because they mutually "agree" it would never go beyond HS) and then Will and Chance run into each other later as adults wherever they're living. I kind of love the notion of Will viewing their HS fling as a casual distraction for Chance, not something he'd seriously pursue (and Chance kind of thinking the same because in his mind Will is just using him to distract from Mike), and then running into Chance when they're both living their lives as gay men and being like. "why have you never told me you actually want this. I thought this was just a teenage thing for you." while Chance is like, "why do you think I knew you'd want to hear this. I thought you were in love with someone else." and they're just circling each other for a while, learning how to interact in a setting where if they were hooking up they wouldn't need to hide it like they did earlier, and the sad irony that now that they can do it they're not doing it. and also slowly picking up that that secret fling meant so much more to each of them than the other ever thought it could.

basically: second chance romance bychance! (insert whatever Chance's name related pun you want to here) does anyone else see the vision

[hisho-ao3]

the bychance bug got me again I’m back fr this time yippie

[lavenderguilt]

I finally posted the first chapter of my bychance fic :’) !! I’ve been wanting to write this for a solid three months and last week I was like you know what *cracks knuckles* let’s go 🤘

[willelmike]

bonus:

[hisho-ao3]

excerpt of the opening of the next fic I'm working on cause good lord it's taking me forever to finish this

Will Byers is seven years old when he sees his brother stand by the front door in tears, cradling a dead rabbit wrapped in his flannel.

It’s Jonathan’s tenth birthday. Lonnie had taken him hunting that morning—said it was high time he learned how to be a man. His own father had taught him to hold a pistol at age three, had him shoot his first deer by eight. Claims it hardened him early, gave him the edge he needed. No son of his is growing up soft.

In the kitchen, Will and Joyce had just finished the cake. It was in the oven now, rising. The streamers were already up. Even their dog, Chester, wore a crinkled party hat, half-slipped over one ear. A tape of Rocky rested on top of the VHS player. The whole house smelled like boxed vanilla and store-brand frosting.

It was supposed to be a good day.

The rabbit is small. Soft brown, limp, its body resting in Jonathan’s arms like something never meant for harm. Its fur is matted dark with blood, concentrated around a torn patch near the ribcage where the bullet went in. It barely spans the length of Jonathan’s crossed arms. The flannel, Will notices, is one of his brother’s favorites—red and yellow, sun-faded, the sleeves always rolled. It’s ruined now, soaked through in places, the fabric clinging to the animal’s skin. Jonathan’s hands won’t stop shaking.

Lonnie lingers behind him, all swagger and disappointment. Says something about boys needing to toughen up. Says next time, he won’t let him come home early.

Will doesn’t understand the full shape of what’s happened, not yet. But he remembers their faces: Jonathan’s pale and wrecked, red nose, tears already spent; his mother glaring at Lonnie as she lifts the rabbit from her son’s arms, holding it like it’s something precious.

She then leads Lonnie out to the front porch and closes the door behind them. Will doesn’t hear what they’re arguing about, but their voices—sharp, muffled—rattle through the walls of their home. Too familiar to be startling.

When the oven chimes and the cake is ready, no one eats it.

By the time Lonnie leaves for work that afternoon, Jonathan has taken out an old shoebox from his bedroom, and Joyce helps him dig a hole in the far corner of the backyard. It’s quiet work. No words—just the thud of the shovel, the scrape of cardboard against dirt. Will watches from a white Monoblock chair, one hand absently ruffling Chester’s fur, as Jonathan pats the soil down and places a few stone pebbles on top as a grave marker.

This, Will soon learns, is grief.

It’s not like it was their pet. Jonathan has no built-up affection for the animal to anchor his sorrow—and yet, his kind heart still mourns. A shoebox-sized grief, not just for the small creature, but for the quiet loss of innocence that comes with recognizing death for what it is.

That night, Joyce lets her boys sleep beside her, one on each side. Jonathan tucks his head near her shoulder, no longer crying, just quiet. Will curls against her other side, his small cheek pressed to hers, his hair tickling the tip of her nose. Their dog sleeps at the foot of the bed.

If Lonnie came home that day, he knows better than to enter the room. He’ll sleep on the couch. She doesn’t have to say it aloud.

“I’m sorry about your father,” Joyce says softly, drawing them closer, her arms a fragile boundary against the weight pressing in from the rest of the house.

On nights like this—when Lonnie is harsher than usual—Joyce softens by instinct. She wraps her children in warmth, not to erase the damage, but to cushion the echo. She never defends his behavior. Never tries to explain it away. But there’s only so much tenderness can patch, and this kind of arrangement—this rhythm of rupture and repair—can’t last forever. Even Will, as young as he is, knows this.

There’s something about the dim glow of the bedside lamp that loosens the tongue and makes people say things they wouldn’t in daylight. So Joyce speaks. She tells them about how she and their father once loved each other. About how they met in high school. How he used to be a drummer. How he’d also grown up poor, with estranged parents that made her feel understood. It was messy, complicated, but she swears it was love.

She had loved him. And that, she says, is why she stayed. (She doesn’t say whether she still does, or if now there’s a different reason why. Neither boy asks.)

Will is eleven years old when his mother’s facade finally cracks. She throws Lonnie’s clothes onto the lawn one evening, and a week later, all his belongings are stuffed into a suitcase and cardboard boxes, packed tight in the back of a U-Haul. The house feels eerily bigger than it used to.

“I’m not gonna fall in love,” he tells his mom at fourteen, seated across from her at the breakfast table. He won’t lose himself in someone the way she did. He won’t let love swallow him whole. (But deep down, he means something else, too—that boys like him don’t get that kind of love anyway.) Ironically, he says this as he pours maple syrup over his scrambled eggs—a habit he picked up from Mike. Bit of a strange combination of flavors, sure, but Mike had grinned and said being different didn’t mean it was wrong.

At fifteen, he offers his heart to this same boy. materialized into a painting and words disguised as his sister’s. A half-truth wrapped in self-erasure.

He’s always been familiar with the kind of love that lets go. He’s never known the kind that stays—the kind that chooses you back. He doesn’t believe he’s ever been, or will ever be, on the receiving end of it.

It is not until he is sixteen years old when he finds out he is.

[eeriesilkworm]

There's a real possibility we get a Will Byers centric love triangle in ST5

We know the Duffers love a good love triangle.

So much so, they've given us one (or several) in every season of Stranger Things thus far—and I don’t think they’ll break that streak in Season 5.

One thing I’ve noticed is that while some love triangles stretch across multiple seasons (like Steve/Nancy/Jonathan), the writers also introduce at least one new triangle each season.

Here’s a quick breakdown:

S1: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan S2: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Joyce / Hopper / Bob + Lucas / Dustin / Max S3: Robin / Steve / Tammy + Joyce / Hopper / Alexei + Joyce / Hopper / Mr Clarke S4: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan + Mike / El / Will + Robin / Vickie / Vickie's ex-boyfriend S5: Steve / Nancy / Jonathan (likely resolved) + Mike / El / Will (will come to a head) + ???

Sometimes they’re played straight, but the writers also love to openly mock the love triangle trope, too—especially in Season 3:

For example, Hopper gets irrationally jealous over Joyce talking to Mr Clarke and even Alexei—prompting Joyce’s sarcastic line about how every man she talks to must be her boyfriend. And of course, there's Steve wrongly assuming Robin has a crush on him, then confessing to her, only to find out she actually liked Tammy Thompson.

Basically, there’s no one way the writers use this trope. They clearly enjoy it—but more importantly, they enjoy subverting it.

So, call me delusional but I think it's likely that we could be getting another Will Byers love triangle in Season 5:

He's the main character of the season and his arc will (partially), revolve around his "coming of age" and acceptance of his sexuality, after all.

Will has consistently been portrayed as someone who is considered attractive or desirable in-universe. In every season except Season 3, a girl shows interest in him despite his nerdiness and perceived queerness.

And now, it looks like the Duffer Brothers are visually rebranding him as a romantic lead:

His new hair and costume design feels both heroic and boyish. The flannel—once a staple of his wardrobe and a symbol of his innocence—is slowly being phased out, suggesting a gradual loss of that innocence. However, he’s still buttoned up. That tells me Will is stepping into his manhood (and by extension, his sexuality), but he's still holding something back. He's going to need to be pushed out of his comfort zone; both physically and emotionally.

Even narratively, there are established links which hint at a possible non-Mike love interest:

When we look back at Will’s comment about not falling in love, we often read it as foreshadowing his feelings for Mike—or hinting that he already is in love with him. But I also interpret it as something more: Will doesn’t believe he will ever inspire love (or romantic attraction). He sees himself as undesirable.

Think about the four original members of the Party. Yes, they’re all considered uncool nerds to some degree—yet three of them are affirmed through romantic connection: Lucas has Max. Dustin has Suzie. Mike has El. They each receive validation and the feeling of being wanted.

Will does not.

And yet, the writers have made a consistent effort to show us that Will is considered attractive—despite his belief that he isn’t, and despite the lack of romantic validation he receives. That creates a real disconnect. A kind of cognitive dissonance.

Having Will repeatedly receive attention from girls—only to reject them or appear disinterested—was an effective way to subtly hint at his queerness. But it’s happened so many times now, that there needs to be a payoff.

What is the long-term point of making the canonically gay kid, who already believes he’s undesirable, only receive interest from women?

Er, there isn’t one.

It makes sense, then, to give Will the opportunity to experience mutual same-sex attraction with someone who isn't Mike.

Because Will's arc about accepting his sexuality doesn't just have to culminate in the realization that Mike loves him too (as sweet as that is).

It should culminate with the knowledge that queerness is valid, that he is considered desirable and worthy of romantic interest, and that he isn't alone in experiencing queerness.

Additionally, as mentioned above, Will is already perceived as queer—he’s been bullied for it his entire life, despite never explicitly coming out. Hawkins is a small town where word travels fast. So if there is another young gay guy in town, chances are… they’ve already heard of “Zombie Boy” Will Byers.

He'd certainly be on their radar: he’s good-looking, he’s mysterious, and he’s still closeted, which means he’d likely be discreet.

And let’s not forget where Will was emotionally at the end of Season 4, especially regarding his feelings for Mike:

He’s starting from ground zero in Season 5. He has zero hope that Mike feels the same way, and he’s likely going to be making zero moves.

In fact, most Byler theorists agree—it makes sense that Mike will have to be the initiator in Season 5. Will is just too emotionally shut down to make the first move.

But… wait a minute.

If this season is supposed to be about Will coming into his own as a young gay man—about self-acceptance, confidence, and owning his identity—how does that make sense if Mike is the one initiating everything?!

Well… maybe Mike needs to make the first move when it comes to Byler. But that doesn’t mean Will has to stay passive the whole season.

It’s possible that Will could gain some much-needed confidence—maybe even a bit of romantic “practice”—by taking a more active role with someone else first.

Giving Will a (temporary) new love interest would also level-out the playing field between himself and Mike:

There's a real sense of karmic justice and ironic foreshadowing in Stranger Things.

Will's jealousy of Mike and El's relationship has been hinted at for two seasons now—and he even complained that Mike only called a couple times while El had a "book of letters" from him.

What’s interesting is that even after Mike takes accountability for their argument and they make up, that specific comment—about the phone calls and letters—is never addressed. It lingers.

That’s why I think we could see a similar conversation (or even a full-blown argument) between Mike and Will in Season 5. But this time, Will might be the one receiving phone calls or letters—from someone else.

And let’s not forget: it’s possible that the Byers are temporarily staying with the Wheelers in Season 5. If Will has a secret admirer, and he’s trying to keep it quiet, Mike is going to find out. (Excellent way to manufacture drama).

I also feel compelled to reiterate that the Duffers have shown time and time again: they can handle love triangles in many different ways.

They can play it for comedy. They can make it completely one-sided or delusional—like Mike projecting his own jealousy, much like Hopper did with Joyce in Season 3. A love triangle doesn’t have to be serious or long-lasting. It could span multiple episodes, or just one. It could involve a kiss—or zero physical contact at all.

And it doesn’t have to disrupt a Byler endgame—in fact, quite the opposite:

Seeing Will Byers receive romantic attention from another male character would serve as a reminder to the audience that Will is desirable and that he has options—this increases the stakes for Mike.

The GA will start wondering if this is really Will's endgame, and if he is truly ready to get over Mike. The GA, especially those who never shipped Byler before, may find themselves unexpectedly invested. They might even feel disappointed or sad at the thought of Will "moving on."

It also creates space for the writers to show us jealous Mike. Just as we've seen jealous, longing Will, a temporary love triangle allows us to explore Mike’s feelings through that same lens of romantic insecurity.

This brings the possibility of Byler to the forefront of the GA's subconscious. At the same time, it invites them to root for Mike, and therefore Byler.

[hisho-ao3]

no promises but... the other day I got a spark of inspiration

[hisho-ao3]

hold up I got a crazy idea

[hisho-ao3]

no promises but... the other day I got a spark of inspiration

[hisho-ao3]

Final chapter is out! I made a few last minute changes, but I'm glad to leave it here. Happy TUDUM everyone! Thanks for sticking around!

[hisho-ao3]

spoilers for the next chapter under the cut, thought I'd share something since it's been a while since the last update.

Will keeps his eyes on the road ahead, staring out the window as Hawkins blurs past—quiet, gray, and stubbornly unchanged. Empty fields, barbed-wire fences, brittle grass. Aside from the cracks in the earth and the government lockdown, it looked just like it always had. Like the town refused to admit anything had ever gone wrong.

He thinks about the way El had looked at him earlier—soft and full of understanding. Like she knew what it meant to be afraid of yourself, afraid of what you might become. She’d offered him empathy without needing to say a word, even when he didn’t deserve it.

And all the while, he had spent the night before wrapped up in her boyfriend—pretending she didn’t even exist.

Part of him, something dark and mean and rooted too deep to dig out, had resented her since the day he met her. Not for anything she did. Just for being who she was. A girl made in a lab, raised behind glass, taught nothing but pain—and still, somehow, she turned out so kind. She’d only just begun to understand love, romantic and familial, to have it in her life without fear.

And now he’s the one who’s gone and broken it. Ruined whatever version of peace she might’ve finally found with Mike.

He thinks about Chance. How he’d dragged someone into his orbit just because he was desperate to feel wanted. How he’d allowed that quiet ache to take root in someone else—the kind he knew too well, the kind that lingers in your chest and consumes you. It made him worse than selfish. A hypocrite. Will hadn’t meant to ruin his life. But maybe that’s just what happens when people get too close.

He swallows. Hard.

Because if he could do that to Chance, what’s stopping him from doing it to Mike?

And it’s not just that. There’s this thing in him. Not just One. Something else. Older. Colder. A weight that’s always been there, curled in his chest like a second pulse. What if it wasn’t anything supernatural? What if it’s just him?

He should’ve pulled back before it all got too real. Should’ve been be honest about what was going on with him. But he didn’t. He let himself pretend, just for a little longer, that he could pass for normal.

And now look what happened.

Will presses his sleeves into his palms, fingers curling tight around the fabric.

“I don’t think I’m a good person,” he says quietly.

“Why would you think that?” Jonathan asks, soft and tentative.

“I just know.” Will’s voice stays flat, but his hands tense where they rest in his sleeves. Then, before he can stop himself—

“I’ve made bad choices. I knew they were wrong, and I did them anyway.” He swallows. “And the worst part is… I don’t think I regret it. I wanted to do them. Still do. And I don’t know what that says about me.”

Jonathan watches him carefully. But he doesn’t ask what Will did. Just says, gently:

“It says you’re human.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, then adds, “Life’s messy. People screw up. Especially after the kind of shit you’ve been through. It scrambles your moral compass. But making mistakes doesn’t make you a bad person. It just makes you, well—a person.”

Will stares down at the sleeves bunched in his fists. He wants to believe him. Wants it to be that simple.

“You don’t understand,” he mutters. “What I did… was really fucked up. You’d hate me for it if you knew.”

Jonathan shrugs. “Try me.”

Will hesitates. The car hums quietly around them, engine low and steady like it’s holding its breath too. The silence stretches long enough that he could still take it back, swallow it down, let the moment pass. But he doesn’t. Instead, He grips the edge of the seat and speaks.

“I…” His voice falters. “I might’ve… slept with our sister’s boyfriend.”

Jonathan blinks. His fingers loosen on the wheel, surprise flickering across his face. Clearly, he hadn’t expected that.

“Well… at least you didn’t kill someone.”

Will groans, dropping his face into his palms. “Ugh! I might as well have.”

And technically… yeah. He almost had. Three possible bodies under his belt from that same night. He was on a real streak. Gold medal shitstorm.

“I didn’t think Mike had it in him.”

Will shakes his head, voice muffled through his hands. “He kissed me first, yeah. But I was the one who took it further.”

Jonathan’s eyes widen. He looks even more shocked now—probably just processing the fact that his innocent little brother isn’t so little anymore… and apparently has a sex life.

“I mean… I’ve been with someone else,” he says, voice low. “Since the start of junior year. Kind of all summer.”

Jonathan leans back slightly, thinking. “Is that why you’ve been late a lot? Playing hooky? Sneaking around?”

Will doesn’t answer, but his ears go red beneath his hands.

Jonathan grins. “Happened to me too, when I first started seeing Nancy. I was about your age.”

There’s a brief pause—then a muffled laugh slips out of Jonathan, barely contained. “Do I still need to give you the talk about the birds and the bees?”

Will groans again. “Shut up.”

[hisho-ao3]

Thought I'd share this! These are all the songs mentioned (and will be mentioned) in my fic 'cause love's such an old-fashioned word

I made sure all of them were released on or before the fall of 1987. This will also be the mixtape Will would make for [redacted] that's mentioned in Chapter 4 ♡

[hisho-ao3]

Forgot to mention this but Chapter 4 is out! I think I wrote about 10k words, woooh.

I'm hoping to post the Final Chapter around TUDUM season!

[hisho-ao3]

short excerpt cause I've been writing the whole day, I don't think I'll finish it yet tho but wanted to share something

In hindsight, it was a bad idea. But ever since junior year started, Will’s been acting on impulse more than he should.

It was supposed to end when summer did. Just a summer fling. That had been the unspoken agreement—no more late-night drives, no more excuses to run into each other in parking lots or alleyways. It was usually Chance who started it. Usually the one suggesting when, where, how far. But now it’s Will standing here, breaking whatever silent rules they’d built around themselves. So yeah. Bad idea.

The gym smells like sweat and floor polish—like a dozen teenage boys have already come and gone. The lights overhead hum with that cheap, tinny buzz, casting long reflections off the varnished wood floor. Chance is alone under them, making free throws in a steady rhythm. Shoot. Bounce. Catch. Again. Each thump echoes softly, filling the space like a slow heartbeat.

Will stands just inside the double doors, backpack slung over one shoulder. He’s supposed to be home by now. Told Mike he had to stay late in the art room for a last-minute AP project. Which, okay, technically isn’t a lie. He does need to work on it. But that’s not why he’s here.

Right now, he’s watching the ball sail clean through the net—but his eyes aren’t on the shot. They’re on the boy taking it.

Chance is flushed, breathing a little heavier now, sweat darkening the collar of his jersey. The fabric clinging in all the right places, damp and nearly see-through. Will’s eyes catch on the muscles in his arms as he lifts them—defined but not bulky. Roped with just enough tension to suggest he could pin you without trying.

He could pin Will without trying. Has, before.

“So,” Chance says without looking at him. “What’s the deal with Wheeler?”

The way he says it—it’s too casual. Like he’s asking what Will had for lunch or if he caught the game last night. But Will knows that tone.

It’s the same tone Chance used the first time they talked, back in the alleyway of the supermarket, near the dumpsters. Before things escalated. Before they started crossing lines. Before two strangers became two bodies pressed close.

Will blinks. “What do you mean?”

Chance retrieves the ball, dribbling slow and lazy. Like he’s stalling. “You two looked pretty close today during the pep rally.”

A pause—one beat too long.

“I saw you in the bleachers. Laughing. Knee to knee.”

He doesn’t say touching. He doesn’t have to.

Will doesn’t answer at first. Just watches him. He knows Chance well enough to read between the lines.

“You’ve noticed,” Chance adds, spinning the ball on his fingertips like it’s a trick he’s barely thinking about, “he’s always orbiting around you, right? Waiting by your locker. Sitting at your lunch table. I’ve seen him hang back after class just so you can leave together. What’s that about?”

Will exhales, slow. “We’re friends.”

Chance raises a brow without looking at him.

“He’s letting me crash in his basement since I moved back,” Will adds. “We bike home together. It’s not weird.”

Chance dribbles again. This time the ball bounces harder. “Didn’t say it was.”

Another beat.

“I mean,” Chance continues, releasing another shot—he misses. “I get it. He’s your best friend. History. Nostalgia. Whatever.” He wipes a hand on the side of his jersey. “But you got a lot of friends who look at you like that?”

This time, Will grins. Just a little. “Like what?”

Chance doesn’t answer. The next shot bricks off the backboard, hard. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t go after it either.

Will takes a few slow steps forward, arms crossed loosely. “You jealous?”

The words are light, teasing, but his voice has an edge to it. Like he already knows the answer.

Chance snorts, turning to face him this time. “Of Michael Wheeler?” It’s a scoff disguised as a laugh, all teeth and no humor. “Please.”

But Will’s close now. Close enough to see the tightness in his shoulders, the slight downturn in his mouth. It’s a performance. One Chance doesn’t know he’s failing.

And anyway, why would he care?

It’s not like they’re dating. They don’t talk about it—whatever this is. They don’t label it. Wouldn’t even consider themselves a ‘thing.’ But it’s somewhat exclusive. Or at least, it always felt that way. Not just on his end, either. Chance never talks about anyone else. Doesn’t touch anyone else.

Still, he’s not Chance’s boyfriend. Not his anything.

So why does Chance care who Will sits beside? Who he laughs with?

Why does he?

[defleptic]

"Mike? Mike, I've been calling your name for like 5 minutes. Are you okay?"