Jun 24, 2025
Actually working on my fic after months feels kinda good who knew right?
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Actually working on my fic after months feels kinda good who knew right?
REALLY QUICKLY
what title is better??
Beneath the crown beyond the law.
The Prince and the phantom.
Dancing with danger.
His stolen waltz .
The Prince and the pretender.
Crown jewels and chemical bonds .
Beneath the ball gown.
Midnight thief royal heart.
I've got a name!! (comment)
Most of these are from a story title generator bcuz I'm too stupid to come up w a good name 😞
Planning for my fic :3
I might add more fillers and what not but I would need ideas :p
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms, Hazbin Hotel (Cartoon) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hugo/Varian (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms) Characters: Hugo (Disney: Varian and the Seven Kingdoms), Varian (Disney) Additional Tags: Cosplay, Conventions, Appleradio, IN SOME FORM Summary:
At a con, Hugo and Varian, cosplaying as Alastor and Lucifer respectively, decide to play out a ship. Cosplay sex
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Hi everyone! Finally got this done and posted. Please enjoy and be nice to each other in the comments.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The name is on the tip of Varian's tongue. The syllables press against the back of his teeth, itching to be let out but never taking shape. It's like dust falling softly on a Sunday morning; it's a thousand tons of iron slamming behind his ribs; it's a virus buried in his blood and sinew. He can't explain why he feels so empty without it, like a piece of his soul is missing. He can't help but think he's lost something -- or someone -- very, very important.
Or, Varian wakes up in the body of a boy he's never met in a kingdom he's never visited. He learns to adapt to Hugo's strange lifestyle, clumsily navigating a sense of normalcy with no memory of what happened the day before.
Until the day he can't.
Chapter 9: Your Name is...
Chapter Summary: Destinies collide at a royal wedding.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The name is on the tip of Varian's tongue. The syllables press against the back of his teeth, itching to be let out but never able to take shape. It's dust falling softly on a Sunday morning; it's a thousand tons of iron slamming behind his ribs; it's a virus buried in his blood and sinew. He can't explain why he feels so empty without it, like a piece of his soul is missing. He can't help but think he's lost something -- or someone -- very, very important.
Or, Varian wakes up in the body of a boy he's never met in a kingdom he's never visited. He learns to adapt to Hugo's strange lifestyle, clumsily navigating a sense of normalcy with no memory of what happened the day before.
Until the day he can't.
Chapter 8: a big gulp of icy spring water
Chapter summary: Defying fate, Hugo and Varian meet.
Dance of Death (A Varigo fanfic)
Rated: T
TW: Death
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He had no way of knowing who the figure in the graveyard dressed in black was.
He stood alone, so still in his cloak, Hugo believed him one of the beautiful carved seraphim, keeping watch over the buried. It wasn’t until his head tilted up that Hugo saw the beautiful sun kissed skin, soft freckled cheeks, and eyes that reminded him of foggy autumn afternoons.
Those eyes suddenly moved to him, and he stood up straight.
He gave a casual wave and held his rake up a bit.
‘How creepy.’ He thought. ‘Imagine coming to grieve and being gawked out by a lowly thief trying to finish up his community service to avoid the judge and noose…’
The sad eyed man turned, Hugo seeing a streak of blue that oddly seemed to shimmer as if it were alight…and then looked up at the sky.
A crash of lightning made Hugo drop his rake, and he bent to pick it up as a downpour started. He looked around.
The man was gone.
A week passed, and another funeral had taken place, and Hugo saw the man again.
The village had gathered to see an elderly man put to rest, his shell shocked wife sitting on a stool as their friends mourned the man joining their long past children. They had survived the cholera outbreak only to be lonely in the end.
Hugo watched, and when he looked from the preacher to the widow, he saw the man. He had a hand on the woman’s shoulder, and she sobbed into a handkerchief, yet…smiled softly…
Three days later, the family plot was completed.
The widow in her finely carved coffin now next to her beloved husband and youngest child.
Hugo was unsettled seeing the man there again and saw he was solemnly looking at the headstones.
It started raining, and soon the crowd dispersed, leaving the man as Hugo and the undertaker smoothed the newly filled mud on the coffin. Hugo grabbed an umbrella and walked to the man, holding it over him.
The man looked up, and Hugo felt his breath catch in his throat, painfully so.
“You’re drenched, Sir.” he said softly.
The man looked at him.
“Sir?” Hugo asked. “Were you…familiar with the widow?”
The man shook his head.
“No. New friends.” He said, voice sad and flat.
It was like fragrant smoke of an opium den.
“I’m sorry you lost them so soon.” Hugo murmured, reaching out a hand.
“I have not lost them.” He said, causing Hugo to freeze. “Please be careful…keep your hands and mouth clean…avoid the water.”
“What?” Hugo asked softly, stepping back.
“Be safe, Hugo.” He whispered and walked away into the rainy streets.
Leaving Hugo wondering how the man knew his name.
*
“Death walks among us!” A drunken man screamed into his face.
Cyrus grabbed and threw him back into a table of rowdy men, making a path for Hugo to walk out of the tavern.
“I’m leaving this fucking village.” Cyrus whispered. “Going to try France.”
“She is buried here.” Hugo said sullenly.
“Come with me, Hugo.” Cyrus sighed. “A fresh start in the country. Away from all this…mess.”
“I can’t leave her.” He said as they walked through the muddy road, boots becoming heavy from water and muck. “Fuckin’ rain.”
“Hugo.” Cyrus whispered. “Please. Something is…wrong here. It feels like this village is…dying. In more ways than one.”
“Go, Cyrus.” He said softly.
The larger man, who watched over him since he was a boy, stood still, like a pillar of stone as he looked down at the blond gravedigger. Water dripped down his face and beard as his eyes seemed to spark with both regret and fear.
“You needn’t watch me all my life, Cyrus. Give me some time, send me some letters and perhaps…I’ll join you.”
“Keep my cottage then.” Cyrus sighed. “I leave tomorrow morning.”
The rain paused, and they both looked up to see the clouds thin, the full moon blessing them with more than dirty lamp light.
Cyrus huffed with a smile and tilted his head at Hugo, a silent farewell.
Hugo nodded and separated from his friend, heading to the graveyard. He nicked some flowers from a gated garden and found the tombstone of his adoptive mother.
“You’re staying?”
Hugo gasped and dropped the flowers.
The man was there again, perched on the stone wall, hair damp from the storm above them. He had one foot on the wall, leaning an arm on his knee as he looked down at Hugo.
“Staying?” Hugo asked.
“It’d be safer in France for you.”
“You said avoid water—wait!” He glared at him. “How the hell do you know about France?”
“…”
“Who are you?” Hugo huffed. “You fancy a roll in the sheets or something?”
“…I’ve been watching you for a long time.” He said slowly, softly. “You were supposed to be one of mine when you were younger. But someone saved you. I can't be cheated. So she made a deal with me. She would give me her life for yours. But you still keep coming up in my ledger…”
“Ledger…death…Are you…the Reaper?”
“One, yes.” He said. “You were supposed to die twenty years ago.”
“And now you follow me?” Hugo asked. “Why? Why not just take me?”
“I don’t know.” He said as the rain started again.
They stood silently as they slowly soaked, hair slicking against pale skin.
“…does Death have a name?” Hugo asked.
“A name before death, I suppose.”
“May I know it?” Hugo asked. “Or will it bind me to you?”
“All are bound to me. You’re special.”
Hugo blushed at this.
“What is your name?”
“…Varian.”
Hugo held out a hand, and Varian stared down at him.
“To touch death is everlasting.”
Hugo slowly put his hand down. He looked down at the flowers pelted by rain.
“Tell me about her?” Varian asked.
Hugo smiled and jumped up to sit on the wall, the rain not as cold now.
*
Winter was fast approaching.
“The rains drowned out your food.” Varian said as Hugo placed paper flowers on Donella’s damp grave.
“I can fish.” Hugo said.
“The rivers will run dry and lake freeze.”
“And you said stay away from the water.” Hugo sighed.
“You should leave. Like your friend did.”
“I can't leave her. Or you.”
“Stop that.” Varian huffed, looking away into the horizon.
Hugo laughed, glad to know he was the only one able to pull any other emotion from Varian than his constant sorrow.
“What happens when I die?” He asked. “Do I not get to see you again?”
“…you should pass on.” He said.
“Do I have to?” He asked with a playful smile.
“Stop that.” He said again.
“Well?”
“As I said, it’s everlasting.” He muttered, starting to walk along the stone wall.
He stopped when he heard a violin playing joyfully, the square illuminated as people danced and shared what food they had.
Hugo walked up to him, keeping a respectful distance.
“Ah, a wedding.” Hugo hummed, noticing Varian sway gently with the music.
He smiled softly.
The last few months had easily been the most peaceful of his life. His chats with Varian, he man watching him from atop a roof or wall or even tree, trying to keep Hugo far away. The very few times they stood next to each other, Hugo could see every muscle tense, and his eyes kept flicking towards him.
“Tell me, oh Death…” He crooned. “Have you ever danced?”
He held out a hand, and Varian took a wide step away.
“To dance with death leaves two sets of footprints and one body…” He hummed. “So no, Hugo. I have not.”
“You tempt me, Blue Eyed Death…” He said and stood tall before bowing. “To be your first and last.”
He pulled a scarf from around his neck and held one end, tossing the other to flop on Varian’s head.
Varian looked at him with wide-eyed indignation, then blinked as he held the other end.
Hugo held his side and walked in a wide circle around Varian, his free hand behind his back as Varian walked the same direction, starting an odd waltz between them, phantom touches from a distance, Varian smiling wider and wider with each twirl. His free hand came up in an arch as he copied Hugo’s elegant steps.
“Where does a thief and gravedigger learn to dance as a nobleman?” He asked.
“I could ask the same of death.” Hugo teased.
“I watch.” He said. “All I can do is watch before…”
“Before?”
“I can be freed and return into the cycle of new life…”
“Then bless the woman’s resting place we meet at. My mother wanted me to be more. And dance was one of our favorite lessons.”
“This song…I know it by heart.”
“It is your song, Dear Death…” Hugo said. “Of your power and one that reminds us to live. For we all touch your hand.”
Varian twirled with the swell of the violin as an orchestra seemed to surround them, Hugo being taken aback by his beauty and releasing the scarf to watch the man spin again, cloak lifting to show simple brown pants, a blue shirt and apron around his waist with a familiar mask that reminded him of a bird.
“…You were a doctor?” He asked.
Varian froze, and his cloak fell.
“No…I…I must go.” He said and walked behind a tree, Hugo rushing after him only to see the scarf on a branch.
*
Hugo was surprised he hadn’t broken his neck as he sawed into the lake. The ice was slippery, but he was desperate, and the ground was too cold to dig into for work. He rubbed his hands together as he stabbed into it from the safety of the bank.
He looked around.
Still alone.
Hugo huffed.
He’d write Cyrus. Ask for a loan to help him travel to France. Perhaps winters were warmer in the cities.
There was a crack and he smiled when he saw movement under the ice.
But not from him…
“Maggie!” A child called.
Hugo saw a girl crawling slowly over ice, a basket of what looked carrots and turnips within reach of her little dirt caked hands as she reached out desperately for the food that had defied nature.
However…she was near the mouth of the lake where a rotting wooden dam barely kept the water from running into the creek, the ice much thinner.
“I almost got it…” She called to her sibling on the bank.
Hugo heard a deafening crack and grabbed his scarf, rushing to the other child and watching the girl as she grabbed the basket and smiled, Hugo dismayed as she centered her weight and stood on her knees.
“Girl!” He yelled. “Don’t move!”
She froze, and he grabbed the side of the wooden bridge, edging himself on the ice to get to her, the bridge rising until he held himself up with one hand. He grimaced at the spiderwebs of cracks under himself, forming and traveling to the girl’s own, tossing the end of the scarf to the girl, who caught it as if on a reflex. He didn’t have long.
If the webs met, the ice would break, and she would be lost to the cold water below.
“Hold on tight, do not let go.” He said.
“Maggie!” A woman yelled and ran to the bridge, unable to reach the child from the height. She waved a few exhausted woodsmen over. “Rope! Hurry!”
Hugo inched back a bit and brought the girl slowly towards the bridge. The scarf thinned, and he heard soft tearing as a man tossed a rope to Hugo.
Hugo put the scarf in his teeth and brought both shaking hands down to make a large noose. He held it up so the girl could see it and motioned for her to put it over her head and around her waist.
She nodded, and Hugo tossed it as the ice splintered and he saw her tip. He yanked her forward with the scarf and threw the rope the rest of the way down her body, yanking it to tighten it and place her hands on it before wrapping the scarf under her arms above the knot, the men pulling it up. The girl sat as if on a swing, rope under her bottom and scarf holding her torso up. She yelped as she was lifted clear off the ice…
Before it broke and Hugo fell into the icy waters below.
Hugo felt his body seize up from the cold. He closed his eyes, preparing for oblivion…
Only to feel someone take his hand.
He opened his eyes weakly to see sad blue eyes as Varian held him and pulled him close, looking up into his eyes. Hugo used what strength he had to pull him close into an embrace, warmth oddly enough seeping into his flesh as he sank.
Begging the almighty and universe...he would see those blue eyes again.
*
“Jeezus it’s cold!” A girl hissed.
“Well, yeah.” Her partner said. “This place is known for tragic winters…before all the renovations and electricity and central heat…”
“And the Tesco…”
“And…and the Tesco.” Amber said. “But this is where some of my ancestors lived and died!”
“…Morbid.” Her girlfriend Nuru said with a smile.
“Oh, come on, my great great…not doing that, ancestor V. Ruddiger was a chemist who tried to create new medicines…but he got sick and died himself…” She said, wrinkling her nose. “He was the only one to be born and dead here now that I think about it…But there’s a cabin on our families name that’s been passed down! My cousin lives there.”
They walked over the stone bridge with a plaque on it.
“Gravedigger’s Bridge?”
“Yeah, a thief turned gravedigger turned hero.” Amber said. “He saved this little girl that went on to be a famous writer with her sibling. Wrote one of the first sapphic romances with a werewolf.”
“No way!” Nuru chuckled. “Wait, the one that’s being turned into a play?”
“See?! This town is so cool!”
They heard music and saw a pretty cabin, a bigger modern house behind it where two men were dancing together in a waltz on a wooden patio overlooking the lake, a speaker on a table near the open back door.
“Are you seeing—”
“That’s Varian and his fiancé, Hugo.” Amber said with a chuckle. “They love dancing together despite being STEM nerds.”
“I know that song…” Nuru said.
“Yeah.” Amber hummed as they paused to watch the men twirl together.
They seemed unable to let each other go, both wearing matching green and blue scarves and smiling despite the autumn chill. They twirled to the violins and flutes, eyes locked and cheeks flushed happily.
Amber sighed wistfully as her cousin and his lover danced, connected as if they had been for centuries instead of the three years they had officially met. Hearts like puzzle pieces coming together, Varian’s father had put it.
They swayed a bit to the music.
Nuru looked away as they saw Varian dipping Hugo to kiss him as the song hit it’s crescendo.
“My cousin is a bit more morbid than I am considering they want to dance to this at their wedding.”
“Why?” Nuru asked. “They look so in love. How can this song…their song, I’m assuming, be morbid?”
“It’s called Danse Macabre.”
Sneak peek of Halloween one shot