Latest update (17th July): The King's Gift - chapter 15
Greetings! Welcome to my corner of tumblr!
I'm Hype and I fear the Steddie brainrot is permanent. These two idiots have kicked me out of a 15yr writer's block and it sure doesn't look like I'll be stopping any time soon. So here's an overview of my stuff.
🚫 My fics are for mature audiences, so minors please DNI. Everyone else, please heed the tags.
📂 Google drive folder with PDFs of most of my longer fics this way.
Coverage
My @steddiebbang 2026 fic - with art by @sammichtastic for the second year in a row!
My completed multi-chapter fics
👑 See you in a crown
rated E | 8,560 words
🎀 Let me be good to you
rated E | 9,534 words
🦈 I'm just gonna swim (until you love me)
rated G | 6,227 words
☀️ Sol Invictus
rated E | 14,183 words
🏴☠️ Baptism of Fire
rated E | 5,577 words
🩸 Laughing at the Storm
rated M | 3,505 words
Hype's filthy fluffy forty
Thank you for celebrating my birthday with me!
Mini series
Phantom Thief AU || Kiss that ring || Upside Diner || The rock star and the royal || Like fine whiskey || Dream a little dream
Microfics
AO3 | Tumblr
I'm always open to others creating their own works inspired by or based on my stories. If you would like to podfic, bookbind, translate or create fanart based on my works, there's no need to ask my permission - though I would, of course, love to know so that I can freak out about it cheer you on. When posting your works, please tag me here on tumblr and use the "inspired by" function on AO3. Please note that I do NOT condone the use of generative AI.
Part 3 of the "Meet the Parents" universe [Part 1 | Part 2]
Rated: G
Words: 1,201 [also on AO3]
Tags: Modern AU; Fake dating; Fake identity; Christmas; Marriage proposal
Steve is one hell of an actor.
Which, okay, Eddie already knew this. He has, after all, successfully convinced his parents that Eddie's name is Tommy and that they've been dating for several months, and managed to uphold the facade through one extremely awkward dinner and an even more awkward skiing trip to the Harringtons’ luxury cabin.
But the little gasp he lets out when Eddie finishes his rendition of All I want for Christmas is you and puts aside the acoustic to get on one knee? The way his eyes go large and shiny as Eddie pulls out the ring? Eddie honestly doesn't know why the guy puts up with this charade. He could always just become a movie star. He has the talent and the looks.
“Stevie,” he says over the sound of Mrs. Harrington’s stifled cry of surprise. “This ring belonged to my mother. She gifted it to me on her deathbed, asking me to give it to the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She was an excellent judge of character, and she always wanted nothing but happiness for me, so I am sure she's looking down at us now and smiling. Because, see, I've never been happier than in the short time I've been with you. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and turn this short time into a happily ever after? Will you marry me, Steven Otis Harrington?”
Steve initially refused to tell him his full name, but Eddie said they needed it for dramatic effect. Now, letting the pause linger as Steve's eyes fill with actual, real tears, he's glad he insisted, because that line fucking slapped.
He's also more than a little proud of himself for delivering it with a straight face, because what kind of name is Otis?
“Oh my God,” Steve chokes. The tears have spilled over and are running down his cheeks now, leaving long, wet trails that glisten in the lights of the Christmas tree. “Yes! Yes, Thomas Archibald Hagan, I will marry you!”
The plan was for Eddie to climb to his feet and slip the ring onto Steve's finger, then for them to hug tearfully. Steve, however, evidently just decided that the plan could do with some improvisation, because what he does instead is launch himself at Eddie in a full-body tackle that sends them both tumbling to the floor.
“Ow shit, carefu-” Eddie says, but that's as far as he gets before Steve takes his face between both of his hands and kisses him, hungry and open-mouthed. It's only their second kiss - somehow they've kept up the mushy, loving boyfriends act purely on hand-holding and cuddles and pet names - and it hits Eddie as hard as the first. Steve's acting skills, it turns out, are only surpassed by his kissing skills. It makes Eddie’s head go light and his fingers tingle, makes his stomach swoop with the violent flurry of a million butterfly wings.
It makes him wonder what Steve kisses like when he truly means it.
By the time his head stops spinning and his vision unblurs and he finally manages to put the ring on Steve’s finger, Mrs. Harrington is next to them on the sofa, sobbing into her silk handkerchief, and her husband is standing behind Steve, clapping his shoulder.
“Well done, son. Quite the catch you made there. And just in time, too. I was starting to think you'd-”
“Thank you, Dad,” Steve says, maybe a little too loudly. “We're very happy, too.”
“Well, you'll need to start planning sooner rather than later,” Mrs. Harrington says. She has stopped sobbing and is bouncing excitedly in her seat. “All the good venues are probably booked already, but if I pull a few strings, I might get you in at the Four Seasons, or maybe-”
“Mom!” Steve's smile is distinctly more strained now. “He literally proposed two minutes ago. Maybe leave us a little time to celebrate?”
She waves him off. “Of course, sweetheart. All I'm saying is that April is coming sooner than you think.”
“Hold on,” says Eddie. “April? What about April?”
The Harringtons trade a look. Steve looks like he's ready to commit violence.
Mr. Harrington clears his throat. “I think this occasion calls for the good whiskey. Maybe some cigars, too. I'll see what I still have in the study.”
His wife watches him go, fiddling with her pearl necklace. “I … I'll see if I can reach the Four Seasons.”
The kitchen door hasn't quite shut behind her when Eddie rounds on Steve.
“Honey?” he singsongs. His smile twitches at the corners. “What about April?”
Steve screws his eyes shut. His lips move silently. He looks like a man praying for strength.
“Not in here,” he then says, and grabs Eddie's hand. “C'mon.”
Eddie doesn't even remember to put on his coat or scarf as he gets dragged through the porch doors. Which turns out to be gross negligence, because Steve hasn't even entirely turned around by the time his teeth start chattering.
“Okay,” Steve says, and wraps his arms around himself to ward off the cold. He looks adorable with his cable-knit sweater and reddening cheeks, not like the human icicle that Eddie is rapidly turning into. “Remember when I said that my parents wouldn’t take it well if they found out that Tommy and I broke up?”
“Uh, yeah?” Eddie asks. “It's sort of what got us into this whole mess? Why-”
“And how I told you they were very much about tradition?”
Eddie nods, trying to rub some warmth into his goosebump-covered arms. By now, he's wishing that Steve would just hurry and drop whatever bomb he has in store.
“Well, the whole story is that we kind of have this family tradition? Started by my great-grandfather, I think? May have been my great-great-grandfather. He came from a very wealthy family, back in Europe, and then he came here and started this business, and-”
“Yeah, no offense?” Eddie says. “But can we skip your family history and get to the point? It's kind of a little chilly out here.”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, you're right. The point is that there's this trust fund.”
“Trust fund,” Eddie repeats dumbly. Of course there'd be a trust fund. “How much?”
Steve tells him. Eddie almost goes down on his ass on the snow-covered porch.
“I need that money,” Steve insists, with the same weird urgency he always gets when the topic of his inheritance comes up. Eddie finds it hard to imagine what anyone would objectively need that amount of money for, but he can't say he doesn't get the appeal. Fuck, the things he could do with even half of that. “The problem is that I won't get it if I'm not married by my twenty-first birthday.”
“What, seriously?” Eddie asks, a little hysterically. “What is this, the eighteenth century or- ooooh, shit, hold on a sec.”
Because it just clicked, and going by the wary look on Steve’s face, it clicked correctly.
“Steve,” Eddie says. “When is your twenty-first birthday?”
Steve gives him a strained smile. “April twenty-second. How do you feel about the Four Seasons?”
Part 3 of the "Meet the Parents" universe [Part 1 | Part 2]
Rated: G
Words: 1,201 [also on AO3]
Tags: Modern AU; Fake dating; Fake identity; Christmas; Marriage proposal
Steve is one hell of an actor.
Which, okay, Eddie already knew this. He has, after all, successfully convinced his parents that Eddie's name is Tommy and that they've been dating for several months, and managed to uphold the facade through one extremely awkward dinner and an even more awkward skiing trip to the Harringtons’ luxury cabin.
But the little gasp he lets out when Eddie finishes his rendition of All I want for Christmas is you and puts aside the acoustic to get on one knee? The way his eyes go large and shiny as Eddie pulls out the ring? Eddie honestly doesn't know why the guy puts up with this charade. He could always just become a movie star. He has the talent and the looks.
“Stevie,” he says over the sound of Mrs. Harrington’s stifled cry of surprise. “This ring belonged to my mother. She gifted it to me on her deathbed, asking me to give it to the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. She was an excellent judge of character, and she always wanted nothing but happiness for me, so I am sure she's looking down at us now and smiling. Because, see, I've never been happier than in the short time I've been with you. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and turn this short time into a happily ever after? Will you marry me, Steven Otis Harrington?”
Steve initially refused to tell him his full name, but Eddie said they needed it for dramatic effect. Now, letting the pause linger as Steve's eyes fill with actual, real tears, he's glad he insisted, because that line fucking slapped.
He's also more than a little proud of himself for delivering it with a straight face, because what kind of name is Otis?
“Oh my God,” Steve chokes. The tears have spilled over and are running down his cheeks now, leaving long, wet trails that glisten in the lights of the Christmas tree. “Yes! Yes, Thomas Archibald Hagan, I will marry you!”
The plan was for Eddie to climb to his feet and slip the ring onto Steve's finger, then for them to hug tearfully. Steve, however, evidently just decided that the plan could do with some improvisation, because what he does instead is launch himself at Eddie in a full-body tackle that sends them both tumbling to the floor.
“Ow shit, carefu-” Eddie says, but that's as far as he gets before Steve takes his face between both of his hands and kisses him, hungry and open-mouthed. It's only their second kiss - somehow they've kept up the mushy, loving boyfriends act purely on hand-holding and cuddles and pet names - and it hits Eddie as hard as the first. Steve's acting skills, it turns out, are only surpassed by his kissing skills. It makes Eddie’s head go light and his fingers tingle, makes his stomach swoop with the violent flurry of a million butterfly wings.
It makes him wonder what Steve kisses like when he truly means it.
By the time his head stops spinning and his vision unblurs and he finally manages to put the ring on Steve’s finger, Mrs. Harrington is next to them on the sofa, sobbing into her silk handkerchief, and her husband is standing behind Steve, clapping his shoulder.
“Well done, son. Quite the catch you made there. And just in time, too. I was starting to think you'd-”
“Thank you, Dad,” Steve says, maybe a little too loudly. “We're very happy, too.”
“Well, you'll need to start planning sooner rather than later,” Mrs. Harrington says. She has stopped sobbing and is bouncing excitedly in her seat. “All the good venues are probably booked already, but if I pull a few strings, I might get you in at the Four Seasons, or maybe-”
“Mom!” Steve's smile is distinctly more strained now. “He literally proposed two minutes ago. Maybe leave us a little time to celebrate?”
She waves him off. “Of course, sweetheart. All I'm saying is that April is coming sooner than you think.”
“Hold on,” says Eddie. “April? What about April?”
The Harringtons trade a look. Steve looks like he's ready to commit violence.
Mr. Harrington clears his throat. “I think this occasion calls for the good whiskey. Maybe some cigars, too. I'll see what I still have in the study.”
His wife watches him go, fiddling with her pearl necklace. “I … I'll see if I can reach the Four Seasons.”
The kitchen door hasn't quite shut behind her when Eddie rounds on Steve.
“Honey?” he singsongs. His smile twitches at the corners. “What about April?”
Steve screws his eyes shut. His lips move silently. He looks like a man praying for strength.
“Not in here,” he then says, and grabs Eddie's hand. “C'mon.”
Eddie doesn't even remember to put on his coat or scarf as he gets dragged through the porch doors. Which turns out to be gross negligence, because Steve hasn't even entirely turned around by the time his teeth start chattering.
“Okay,” Steve says, and wraps his arms around himself to ward off the cold. He looks adorable with his cable-knit sweater and reddening cheeks, not like the human icicle that Eddie is rapidly turning into. “Remember when I said that my parents wouldn’t take it well if they found out that Tommy and I broke up?”
“Uh, yeah?” Eddie asks. “It's sort of what got us into this whole mess? Why-”
“And how I told you they were very much about tradition?”
Eddie nods, trying to rub some warmth into his goosebump-covered arms. By now, he's wishing that Steve would just hurry and drop whatever bomb he has in store.
“Well, the whole story is that we kind of have this family tradition? Started by my great-grandfather, I think? May have been my great-great-grandfather. He came from a very wealthy family, back in Europe, and then he came here and started this business, and-”
“Yeah, no offense?” Eddie says. “But can we skip your family history and get to the point? It's kind of a little chilly out here.”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, you're right. The point is that there's this trust fund.”
“Trust fund,” Eddie repeats dumbly. Of course there'd be a trust fund. “How much?”
Steve tells him. Eddie almost goes down on his ass on the snow-covered porch.
“I need that money,” Steve insists, with the same weird urgency he always gets when the topic of his inheritance comes up. Eddie finds it hard to imagine what anyone would objectively need that amount of money for, but he can't say he doesn't get the appeal. Fuck, the things he could do with even half of that. “The problem is that I won't get it if I'm not married by my twenty-first birthday.”
“What, seriously?” Eddie asks, a little hysterically. “What is this, the eighteenth century or- ooooh, shit, hold on a sec.”
Because it just clicked, and going by the wary look on Steve’s face, it clicked correctly.
“Steve,” Eddie says. “When is your twenty-first birthday?”
Steve gives him a strained smile. “April twenty-second. How do you feel about the Four Seasons?”
There's a few, and the order in which I'd rank them constantly shifts as I discover new ones or fall back in love with old ones. At the moment, my go-to songs for a quick serotonin or confidence boost are Golden by Huntr/x and Don't Stop Believin' by Journey.
i’m going to be really honest with you guys i think the tendency to read the absolute worst possible intentions into every action you don’t agree with is getting too automatic and it’s eating you from the inside out
My vacation is over (noooo, whyyyyy?), and I put it to good use! Coverage is all finished, except for final edits, which I will be working on this week and the next. Also, posting date claims are this weekend, so I'll be able to nail down a posting schedule and tell you all about it soon!
For the next few weeks and montsh, I'd like to focus on my life debt fantasy AU. @starthecozy showed me some new sketches the other day, and I am foaming at the mouth over them, let me tell you!
I'd also like to get back into short form writing and post some more ficlets. I've been messing around with some prompts for @strangerthingskinktober, and I can't wait for spooky season and all those delicious Halloween prompts to drop!!
Send me an emoji, and I'll write and share three sentences from that project.
⚔️ Life debt AU
🍆 Kinktober
🕳️ Steddie Microfic (August prompt: hole)
Snippet from ⚔️
For all the optimism he felt when they set out from the fae realm to deliver the treaty, a dark, heavy sense of gloom has now settled over him.
Because Nancy is right, isn't she?
What good can the treaty do, even if the fae will feel obliged to honor it and not attack them outright? What exactly will it accomplish as long as people like Jason or Creel exist in the world - people who are convinced that everyone born on the wrong side of the border doesn't even deserve to live? How are they ever going to defeat whoever is responsible for the fading magic?
How are they ever going to create a world where Eddie does not feel like an outcast and a mistake?
Rounding the final bend in the corridor, he tries to shake himself out of it. Maybe he shouldn't think about these things at all. Maybe it's not his place to concern himself with the complexities of politics. He has his own problems to worry about, such as breaking the invisible bond that ties them together.
Then again, if he breaks it and nothing about this world ever changes, what future can there be for them?
What reason is there for Eddie to stay with him, once he's no longer forced to?
I don't think people who come from wattpad after the purge and now want ao3 to have its own official app understand that one of the main reasons behind the recent wattpad purge that drove them to ao3 was due to pressure from appstore demanding wattpad to be more strict and follow appstore's policy. wattpad complied in order for its app to be able to remain on appstore. thus the wattpad purge.
ao3 doesn't have an app because for it to have an app, appstore will have to approve it first. and if, hypothetically, ao3 needs appstore to approve it, it will also have to abide by appstore's pro-censorship stance and start banning dark and taboo fics, which is against its own core principle of being completely against censorship.
ao3 doesn't need an app. it works more than fine without an app. the reason ao3 can allow dark and taboo fics, the reason it can allow the most disgusting and shockingly vile fics, and be completely against censorship is because it doesn't need appstore's approval. it stands on its own as a non-profit organization with functioning site and a team of lawyers protecting its platform, its users, and every single fanwork on its platform.
everybody say thank you ao3
here's the list of things you need to know about ao3 if you're new to the platform
the issue exemplified by Wattpad so well recently is that there is no morally superior fanfic. we all get lumped into the same category at the end of the day. when the Government comes for fanfiction, there is no legal distinction between pro and anti shippers.
let’s say two ao3 users walk into a bar at the same time:
an anti might say “I only support no age gap fully consensual no kink vanilla fade to black sex scenes. everything else should be illegal.”
a pro-shipper might say “I believe in ship and let ship. your kink isn’t my kink and that’s okay. even depraved fic deserves legal protections”
and then the bartender says “sorry, we don’t serve porn addicts here.”
Hype @just-my-latest-hyperfixation - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
