skincare guru v. 2 in 1 shampoo
. . . synopsis: hugo judges reader's beauty care choices and treats them later on to a shopping spree to make up for it
. . .wc: 3.7k
. . . notes: might be occ, reader’s poor beauty choices scandalizes hugo, established friendship, they kinda gossip for a bit (i’ll elaborate on the gossip in another oneshot shhhhh you didn’t hear that from me though 👀), tops and ravenlock slander, hugo is dramatic as hell!! fluffy and comedic (hopefully)!!
Hugo stares at himself in the mirror, eyes squinted, looking for any imperfections that lay embedded within his pale skin. He pats his damp cheeks, chin and forehead, trying to feel up any hidden and pesky pimples or blackheads that threaten his clear skin agenda.
Thankfully, there was nothing.
Just the typical smooth, hydrating and bouncy feeling that came with poking at his own skin. He smirks, satisfied with the outcome. “I mustn't get too cocky just yet.” He says as he squeezes whatever is left of his go-to clay mask onto his fingertips, massaging the blue paste against his fingertips before applying it on his face evenly.
Once he finishes applying the soothing clay mask, he reaches out to his right on the bathroom counter. His finger tracing the rim of the porcelain plate before picking up two fresh and juicy sliced cucumbers, sticking them over his eyes in a methodical manner— enough so they won’t fall off at the slightest movement.
Hugo sighs as the cooling sensation washes over his weary eyelids, washing away all the idiocy he was forced to witness and the headache inducing actions caused by dealing with his “family” for longer than necessary.
Now I can finally relax, dealing with those poor excuses of family members really dulled my complexion.
He turns off the dim bathroom lights with a languid clap of his hands, sauntering towards the living room, weaving through the hallways without bumping into a single thing. It’s still clean, just as I left it hours prior.
As soon as the scent of sandalwood wafts around him like a soothing embrace, he allows his shoulders to relax a teensy bit. He nudges the edge of the L-couch with his shin blindly before sinking down on the sofa, resting his back against the corner wedge area, bringing his head back to rest against the pillows. His long, loose silky golden hair pooling around his lithe figure with an elegance that cannot be replicated.
And all Hugo has to do is wait, wait for the clay mask to set and pluck out the impurities embedded in his skin.
As if he has any to worry about.
It’s not surprising his skin remains practically poreless and vibrant considering he runs his skincare game like the navy:
Buying high-end beauty products that cost more than the average person’s grocery list for the week.
Always hogging the single bathroom just so he can make those multi-step clay masks that make you roll your eyes to the back of your head.
Maintaining a schedule: A clearcut plan for each day of the week on specific products to use, having a designated product for every part of his body.
Always checking himself out— looking for imperfections using his pocket sized mirror you swore costs more than the shared apartment’s rent.
Always reapplying sunscreen every 2 hours on the dot to avoid looking "shriveled up.”
Or to put it bluntly, “To avoid looking like a Ravenlock elder before the age of 30— crabby, wrinkly and jaded beyond disbelief.”
His words, not yours.
It's no wonder why Hugo remains loyal to his meticulous and extreme skincare routine, despite how crazy he is for having over a 10 step by step routine planned for each day of the week?
He looks flawless.
Even if you’ve grown used to your best friend’s… obsessive way of caring for his appearance, he never projects those same high expectations onto you. For you never have the time to even think about sitting down and analyzing every little imperfection on your face, nor do you have the time to do research on what skincare product fits best for your needs.
He understands.
Yet there were exceptions to that rule, where Hugo had to point out your… interesting choices when it came to the realm of beauty.
The sound of the front door opening rouses Hugo from his drowsy state, his pointed ears perking up upon your late arrival. He knew it was you, could tell with the familiar pitter patter sounds your shoes make against the polished wooden floor. Could tell how you clapped your hands in the same “tu-tu” rhythm in order to turn on the main lights.
And he for sure knew it was you because of your blood-curdling scream bouncing off the walls.
“Hugo?!?!” You exclaim, unable to take your eyes off Hugo’s… current appearance. You drop your keys to the floor out of sheer horror, eyes comically wide alongside your agape mouth, wide enough that your jaw hurt for how wide you had it. “Y-you?!? Ugh— Really!?!”
After your small, melodramatic moment, you facepalm. Shoulders slumping in mild defeat. Unable to fathom with the idea of you, out of all people, getting spooked over something completely normal. Hugo’s going to tease me to oblivion for this, won’t he?
You knew Hugo was going to be home, you knew he often does his wacky skincare stuff that never made sense to you no matter how many times he explains it to you. You could’ve sworn you’ve conditioned yourself to not react strongly whenever he gets into his ‘beauty guru’ mode.
You didn’t condition yourself well enough it seems.
Not that Hugo cares, in fact, he relishes in your priceless reactions.
Hugo sits up, slowly turning to face his none the wiser best-friend. Still keeping his cucumber slices on his eyes. “Oh? You’re home early.” He says nonchalantly, making no attempt to remove those poor cucumbers. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, feigning offense. “Not even a ‘Hello! How are you, Hugo? I'm so glad to see you on this fine evening?’” He mimics your voice, doing the talking hand gesture mockingly. “Am I that ugly to you that your first instinct was to scream?”
You pause for a moment, unable to decipher whether Hugo was pulling your leg or not. He is.
That bastard has a way with masking his true emotions eerily well. “Oh come on, you know it’s not like that.” You say with an annoyed huff, stomping your way towards his relaxed form lounging on the L-couch— lazy and graceful like a cat, stupidly graceful to the point it made you want to rip your hair out.
Part of you knows he’s smirking within his mind, and that fact only seemed to irritate you for how he remains unbothered with him accidentally spooking you.
You collapse onto the cushion beside him harshly, ignoring the surprised ‘oomph’ that slipped between his fangs. “Hm? Long day I presume?” He asks, deciding to drop his teasing act for a moment, allowing you some level of grace.
You nod lethargically, rubbing your eyes forcefully, hoping to ease the dull persistent ache between your eyes. “You’re correct,” You sigh loudly, exasperated. Smushing your face against your palms. “Classes aren’t getting any better and our classmates seem to always have a permanent stick up their ass— they're impossible! I can’t talk to them without them giving me the stink eye?!”
Hugo tilts his head, suddenly intrigued. He flicks the cucumber slices off his eyes, revealing his heterochromatic eyes to the world once more. “Oh?” He purrs, pressing his clay mask-covered cheek against his knuckles, attuned to the microexpressions dancing across your features. Mesmermized. “Do tell~”
“Well—”
“Was it one of the adopted children under that dreadful man Mosseint?” He begins, holding up two fingers with his left. Raising a sharp brow, trying to gauge your reaction. “Or was it those unpleasant individuals from the Porcelumex faction?”
You furrow your brows. “Man I don’t know?!” You deflate further into the couch, beyond exhausted with keeping up with your obnoxious classmates.
“Quite frankly it doesn’t matter who,” Hugo sighs, shrugging off his resignation. “Anyone under the TOPS’ umbrella tend to all fall under the same category: insufferable and most of the time? Beyond saving.”
“Right?!” You shriek excitedly. “You get it!”
Hugo scoffs, mildly offended. “Of course I do, I used to dwell in the same manor with those fools!” He raises his chin up, feigning superiority. “I’d say my words on the matter hold some level of weight.”
“Right.. Right… how can I forget?” You exhale, a puff of laughter slipping past your lips. “To be honest…? They all blend in with one another, it’s hard to distinguish them from each other— unless they do something outrageous enough that they become memorable enough to put a name to the face.”
“Mhm, now you’re getting it~”
You gasp dramatically. “And are you saying I never did?”
“Never said that~”
You chuckle, your annoyance dissipating as quickly as it came. He really is a breath of fresh air. “Ah whatever,” You rise from the couch, stretching your arms above your head. “Though you aren’t wrong… They really are the most unpleasant bunch, sucks that they’re the majority instead of the minority.”
You turn to face Hugo, who was watching you with an expectant gleam in his mismatched eyes. He probably wants all the juicy details.
You’ll tell him later. If he can afford to spend his sweet time hogging the bathroom whenever you need it most? Then he can most definitely afford to wait for you to finish showering.
“Gonna have to cut our conversation short though,” You yawn, already heading towards your room. Your voice echoing throughout the quaint apartment. “I need to freshen up before I decide to do anything else.”
“I’ll tell you the rest of the juicy details later!”
Now that got Hugo’s attention. Of course it did. Any gossip info-dumping sessions always had him at the edge of his seat, even if he acted all nonchalant. “Mhm, you better fulfill your promise or else I won’t stop nagging you~ we both don’t want that now, correct?”
You roll your eyes, your mild annoyance palpable in the air as you leave your room. You sling your towel over your shoulder, carrying a fresh pair of clothes on one arm as you walk past Hugo’s still lounging figure on the couch.
Still graceful as ever.
You nod. Pressing your lips in a firm line. “Right.”
He sighs, glancing up at the grandiose clock. 5 PM. “Mm, perfect.” Hugo mumbles, caressing his clay mask-covered face with his pointer finger, assessing whether he can wash it off already.
Not yet.
He watches as you disappear into the bathroom, utilizing the hissing sound of the water rushing out the showerhead as his white noise, closing his eyes momentarily. Just for a moment. He yawns softly, his breaths slowing with how he allows his body to sink into the couch further.
He’ll wash the clay mask off soon.
—
5:23 PM
Hugo nods his head side to side sluggishly, his bleary eyes fluttering open. Struggling to focus on the grandiose clock once more.
Is it time?
It had to be, the persistent hissing sound coming from the bathroom stopped.
It probably was. His clay mask began to chip off his skin, revealing bits and pieces of his clear skin beneath. The once hidden impurities falling onto the polished floor. He’ll clean it up later. He pushes himself to sit upright against the couch, blinking away his drowsiness in order to get back to business. His skincare business that is.
As soon as his eyes registered what he was looking at, his drowsiness vanished quickly as it came, for he sprung up from the couch with sudden, profound vitality. Ah, I almost slept past my appointed time.
With that, he wasted no time in washing it off. Even though the bathroom is clearly occupied for how the door remained closed, he’s able to work around it by using the kitchen sink instead.
It wasn’t the end of the world.
He lifts the faucet up, adjusting it to his preferred temperature, waiting for the water to trickle a bit, letting the cold— to now lukewarm water spill from between his fingers. Once the water reached a temperature the young elite was satisfied with, he hunched over and began to wash the clay mask off his face, massaging the mask into his skin in circular motions.
As soon as he was done, he pushed the faucet down. Reaching for his personalized handkerchief— a deep midnight navy color, paired with his infamous Mockingbird symbol stitched in golden thread in the corner.
Just as he was about to pat his drenched face dry with his clean and personalized handkerchief, the scent of something… pleasant wafted nearby, prompting him to perk up from his hunched state. He straightens his posture, now curious as to the origins of the smell.
It had to be from your shampoo, no?
Hugo knows for sure it wasn’t any of his “ultra smooth, non-frizz, hydrating, voluminous and non-sulfate” hair products. They held a distinct smell that was so… him. Something that made anyone snap their head in his direction whenever he happened to walk by— It was a certified neck breaker for sure.
And knowing you, you’d never interfere with whatever beauty products Hugo used. He has a bunch of products crowding the corner of the bathroom, enough products that only he knows how to navigate and apply according to his hair needs.
Who knows? He’ll probably have to wait till you get out—
Click.
Ah, he didn’t have to wait too long.
He watched as you left the bathroom, closing the door behind you before making your way towards the living room, ruffling your hair dry with your clean towel. Looking a lot more… alive, so to speak.
“Ah,” He approaches you, stifling a smile. Mirroring your movements, patting his face dry with his handkerchief instead. “Look who made it back in one piece~ You didn’t snooze in the shower like you did last time?”
You scoff softly. “No?”
“Thought so,” He shrugs, pocketing his handkerchief. Tilting his head as he observed your every move, his eyes narrowing as he tried to find an answer to his questions: Is it one of your shampoos? Did you buy a new one?
Hugo’s better off asking you upfront.
Cutting straight to the chase, he lets out a hum. Prompting you to halt your movements for the time being. Listening to whatever he had to say. “Did you buy another shampoo…? I fear I don’t recognize this scent on you.”
You pause, blinking slowly as though trying to process his blunt question. In the end, you snap out of it. “Yes?” You answer, your voice rising in pitch. “Why?”
“Oh nothing,” He sighs gently, running his fingers through his own hair, marveling at how his hair glides between his fingers seamlessly. A tiny self-assured smirk gracing his lips. “Just wanted to know what smelled so good, it’s not everyday a haircare product that isn’t mine manages to catch my attention~”
“So?” He continues, his voice losing its usual light and teasing tone, now shifting into something mildly serious. He raises his brows, prying for answers. “What’d you use?”
“Oh?!” Your face brightens up with glee, pride kicking in full-throttle. “Are you really asking me what I used?”
He answers non-committedly, his face a picture of perfect casualness. “Mm, correct.”
It was incredibly rare for Hugo to come to you, asking “what product did you use?” Not once in your however many years of living together ever led to this point, this was practically the equivalent of a fashionista asking you “Where’d you get your outfit from?”
And to be honest?
It stroked your ego a bit.
You threw your towel and dirty clothes onto the L-couch, unable to ignore the giddiness coursing through your veins. “One sec!!” You exclaim with a smile on your face, unable to stifle the giggles that left your lips as you ran off into the bathroom. Missing the tiny smile on Hugo’s face.
The moment you came back into the living room, holding the very thing that led to Hugo questioning you in the first place?
All hell broke loose.
A scandalized gasp left Hugo’s lips, the sound loud and sharp enough to pierce glass. His obvious displeasure was clear as day, There’s absolutely no way—
2 in 1 shampoo.
Are you for real.
2 in 1 shampoo. This… horrid abomination the beauty industry loves to manipulate influence the public into thinking this poor excuse of a hygiene product as a “superior cleansing agent in comparison to other hygiene products.” Hugo never understood the appeal of mixing shampoo and conditioner together. To him, it was the equivalent of mixing water and oil together— the shampoo never cleans deeply as a regular separate shampoo bottle should, nor does the conditioner ever soften as efficiently if one uses a separate conditioner.
Instead? You’re left with an unhappy scalp and split ends begging to be chopped off immediately.
And Hugo? He fears for the very hair on your head, even if it smells ridiculously good. There’s no way he’s going to let you live this down.
He stammers lightly, almost at a loss for words. “…Hm…” He begins, feeling your expectant eyes on him, as though waiting for him to sing you a hymn of endless praises.
Yeah right.
“Your boldness and bravery are exceptionally commendable,” He sighs, snatching the dreaded bottle from you without blinking. “To which I believe sometimes teeters at the edge of ignorance, but this is… a whole new level.”
“What—?” You gasp, dumbfounded. “I don’t think it’s that much of an issue!—”
“It is.” "But it deep cleans my scalp—" "No it does not, my friend." "..."
Taking your silence as a sign to continue, he lets out a weary sigh. Realizing he has to explain the obvious to you. He wraps his fingers around your limp wrist, leading you back towards the couch, ordering you to sit with a gentle open palm. “Sit.”
As soon as you ease yourself onto the couch, Hugo follows suit. Sitting beside you, back perfectly straight as a metal pole. Poised.
“2 in 1 shampoos never do you any favors, dear friend of mine.” He jabs his finger at the poor bottle, currently under the never-ending scrutiny of the elusive yet critical drama king. “Not only do they fail to do their job, you, the consumer, end up getting robbed and juiced for all your worth in plain sight— and do we want that to happen?”
He raises his chin up. “Not when you’re barely living paycheck to paycheck, hm? Tell me, am I wrong?” He inquires, silently daring you to challenge his logic.
You sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. Answering begrudgingly. “…No…”
“Just as I thought.” He tosses the bottle aside, ignoring how the bottle groaned the moment it made contact with the wooden floor. He leans slightly forward, never breaking eye-contact with you. Trying to cement his advice into your being in hopes you make better financial and beauty choices.
“Those retched shampoos only scratch the surface of your scalp, so the idea of it “deep cleaning your scalp” is already false. Nor does the conditioner within the bottle even bother to soften your ends— it only works to further progress the dullness your hair already possesses thanks to your continuation of utilizing this poor excuse of a “product.””
Ouch.
And Hugo wasn’t done. He knew he had to explain it differently for how you’re currently staring at him as if he grew two heads.
I deserve another spa day after this.
“Think of it like this,” He pauses, his face contorting with a seriousness that left you speechless, further reassuring him that yes, he should continue spilling his truth. “You’re trudging through this desert that seems never-ending, hopelessly in need of immediate hydration… And funnily enough? You find a promising oasis.”
You hum in agreement, following his dramatic hand gestures. “And what does an ordinary person do when they’re in need of hydration? They sprint over with whatever energy they have remaining. Yet as soon as they reach that said “oasis”?”
He leans forward once more, letting the dramatic pause marinate in the air between you two before dropping the bombshell.
“They’re left in utter despair upon realizing that oasis has dried up.”
Oh.
He leans away once more, acting like his words weren’t the final nail in the coffin for you and the poor mop of hair on your head. “Now do we understand why I have a clear disdain for 2 in 1 shampoos? They deprive the very thing your hair is begging for! Hydration!”
He scoffs loudly, his repulsion clear as day. “God, (Name). You really have the bad habit of grasping my heart and twisting it for what it’s worth!”
“Oh come on don’t get all melodramatic on me again—” You try to retort, only for Hugo to cut it short with a mild glare. Forcing you to pipe down and let his melodramatic behavior pass.
Hugo stands abruptly, shaking his head as he buttons up his fitted dress shirt. “You know what this calls for?” He glances towards you, taking out his card that you knew was filled to the brim with neverending cash.
“A shopping spree.”
“A what—”
“You heard me~” He smiles, his expression mirroring a sly fox who wouldn’t let up. “I wouldn’t want your hair to fall off before you turn 25, that’d be absolutely harrowing.”
“Now you’re just exaggerating—”
“Hardly.” He scoffs harshly. “Have you seen those crabby elders I unfortunately have to call my own? Yeah.”
“Though…” He pauses, tapping his chin with his pointer finger. Feigning deep thought. A smirk slowly creeping up his lips. “It’s fine by me if you want to look identical to the remaining members of the Ravenlock family.”
He spins his car keys with his pointer finger casually, ignoring the disgusted expression on your face with a sly grin. “You know what they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery~” Never in a million years will you allow yourself to be compared to his "family," out of all people? This is asinine. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to indulge him... every once in a while. You couldn't help but let your fingertips grace your scalp, cringing at how it already began to grease up— all in hopes to hydrate itself after that horrid 2 in 1 shampoo stripped your hair follicles dry. Maybe he's onto something.
“Ugh fine,” You acquiesce reluctantly, knowing your fate was set in stone the moment Hugo looked at you with that cocky expression of his that screams “You know I’m right~”.
“Just this once—” You frown, displeasure setting between the furrows of your brows, causing Hugo to take your wrist. Already dragging you out of your shared apartment without looking back.
“Just as I thought~”
And that’s when you knew, It was going to be a long evening.
a/n: UAHAUGHEEGU DAY 8 OF HUGO VLAD APPRECIATION MONTH!!! I CAME THROUGH WITH MY PROMISE (a day later,,, erm,,, whoops!!) i'm not gonna lie i love love LOVEEEE how this one turned out oghaeogug it's so silly i can't </3, i can't help but write hugo as a drama king it's so funny i might write a bit more since the next few days i'll be stupidly busy with university prep so </3 expect some silly hugo related things or a short oneshot (which i tend to struggle to do because I just end up yapping????) this oneshot is no different </3 i fear i derailed once more and let my fingers just move around the keyboard!!
