ᴛᴡᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʙʏ ᴛɪᴄᴄɪ ᴛᴏʙʏ

thank you so much! he’s one of my favourites to write for :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡

Like, one look at Hugo and we automatically go “yeah he’s good at flirting” which I firmly believe as well. But I feel like Hugo is 100% bullshitting his way through every compliment and quip and romantic interaction between people he comes across. His words are his weapons, his voice is hypnotizing, and his charm is his key in and out of things. He knows he’s good looking and uses that to his advantage.

That’s the issue though—he only sticks around for what he needs and then leaves the second he accomplishes that. That’s all flirting really is to him—a resource that contributes to a process. A tool to get a job done.

Which leads us to Varian. Hugo likes teasing him, riling him up, getting a reaction out of him. But that’s the thing—Hugo’s good at getting reactions out of people. He’s not good at having it be any more than that.

I want a moment in Vat7k media where Hugo’s flirting with Varian as usual, solely to be annoying, to pass the time, and because Hugo doesn’t expect anything more from Varian other than a roll of the eyes, or a “cut it out.” Varian—to Hugo, and probably to everyone—just doesn’t look like someone who is capable of flirting and doing it well.

That’s what catches him off guard though. When Varian trips over his own two feet and stumbles a bit while collecting firewood, and when Hugo nudges him in the shoulder and grins, “Don’t trip over your own two feet, genius,” he’s taken aback when Varian shoots him a look of challenge, “I’d rather trip into your arms, but thanks for the concern.”

Hugo’s mind stutters for a second—it wasn’t the words themselves (who was he kidding? Yes it was) but it was the way Varian said them—or maybe the way he looked at him, Hugo didn’t know. There was a glint of playfulness in the alchemist’s blue eyes, a bite to his voice that sparked something warm in Hugo’s chest, a thrill he couldn’t help but savor.

Yet, there was also a specific sarcasm that tinged Varian’s words, showcasing a kind of annoyance that made Hugo’s mind blank and his heartbeat flutter.

Sure, Varian could insult him back, roll his eyes, let a groan slip past his lips like hearing Hugo’s voice alone was exhausting, but he never challenged back with a pickup line the way Hugo did.

Hugo hated how hot his face suddenly felt, hated how his hands immediately clammed up, hated how he sputtered for a moment, at a complete loss for words. It was like he forgot how to speak—what could he say? He was prepared for an insult at most, not that. Not the look in Varian’s eyes. Not the sparkle in his irises, glinting with a certain fierceness that rarely appeared.

True, Varian’s words weren’t extraordinary, so logically, Hugo shouldn’t have been this worked up. It was just the fact that it was Varian who said them. Someone who Hugo couldn’t admit that he was fond of out loud or to himself.

The worst part? Varian simply turned away, the words meaningless to him, and focused back on setting up the campfire. Hugo stood there for another second, flustered and confused before he quickly gained his composure, clearing his throat with a forced grin, “Careful there, goggles. Keep looking at me like that and I might get ideas.”

He was completely unprepared for Varian to grin back at him, light reflecting in his eyes as he quirked an eyebrow down playfully, “Yeah? Who says I don’t want you getting ideas?”

Hugo’s brain short circuited. That was enough for him.

He stuttered before huffing and marching away, refusing to stand there and take the mental blow to his fragile ego. He resorted to mulling things over (cringing at himself for being so flustered) in the caravan instead of helping set up the campsite.

Nuru walks over to Varian a little later, confusion written in her expression, “Where did Hugo run off to?” And Varian simply shrugs, “Beats me.”

i feel sad. the thought of such a gentle, kind child experiencing such volatility and violence that he would turn that hatred back on himself makes me sick and honestly just so angry. but i also feel so much pride, because despite everything just look at him now! that tiny child who never felt safe or happy in his environments and in his own self fought his way out! he created the place in the world he has today and he did it all by himself, by being the kind-hearted soul that he always was and fighting his way through the horrors he was put through.