#corbyn besson

Hakari’s friend gets a makeover ૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა  cw: suggestive, mention of rave/party, mention of bribing, cursing(it’s Hakari, duh) note: hi!! Yess, I can do that. The song isn’t really what I’d normally listen to, so I hope I got the whole vibe right. This one is shorter because I didn’t want to derail the theme.

Hakari twists his ankle clockwise, then back again. He’s been waiting outside your room for about twenty minutes.

The mission should be simple: get into the club, make a deal with some younger higher-ups so they don’t sniff around his club. Bribing, in other words.

He told you to dress accordingly because, well, your style is too casual. There’s nothing wrong with dressing comfortably, but there’s no way security would let you in in your usual attire. According to Hakari, you dress like a stressed secretary on her day off. Not suitable for the occasion.

“Please don’t wear a ponytail,” he mutters to himself as he hears shuffling behind the door. There’s some worry in him that your attempts at looking cool and ready to party will be futile. If he’s honest, his heart is beating faster than usual. A lot hinges on tonight’s success.

The handle is pushed down with a soft click.

Hakari, previously busy with leaving a whole trench in the carpet along the hallway, freezes and looks up with a grimace.

A grimace of horror and confusion.

“…what the fuck happened in there?” He stares at you, then steps back and squints. “Dude… what the fuck?” His tone is almost offended, definitely outraged.

It’s not that you look bad. The opposite. Hakari’s brain just struggles to process how good you look. The images in his head immediately slip into dangerous territory. Were those curves always hidden under your oversized shirts, or did you make some kind of beauty-related binding vow?

He doesn’t even know where to focus. The let-down hair? The top with the low-cut cleavage and the vulgar message on it? The miniskirt and layered tights? The black straps crisscrossing your body like a present he wants to unwrap? The makeup giving you cute alien eyes? Hell, you’re even chewing gum and it makes you look more assertive than usual. There is no explanation for why you own these items. That’s a problem for later.

“You said it’d be a rave. This is rave-friendly,” you mutter and twirl once.

Silence.

“Kinji?”

Hakari swallows sharply, almost choking. Finally, he manages to look away from the way the straps press into your arms.

You are rave-friendly indeed. But the reason Hakari is horrified, despite you executing his request perfectly, is that he now realizes just how damn good you look.

“Yeah?” he asks, his tone trance-like.

He’s known you weren’t ugly, and he’s had his little weak moments in the past, allowing himself to wonder. That one time he did… that thing when he was drunk… well, neither of you talks about it. “Can we go?”

Ahem.

Anyway, he’s never seen you like this. The realization that he wants you soooo badly is both unsettling and badly timed.

“Dude…” He really should stop calling you that now. Do you get in now Kin-chan? Your friend is a girl.

Hakari blinks. His brain is firing on all cylinders, yet none of them seem to make sense anymore. The world feels thinner, sharper, hotter.

He clears his throat aggressively, as if it will help. It doesn’t.

You chew your gum slowly, deliberately, blowing a perfect bubble and popping it with a sharp snap. You can almost hear the cogs in his head grinding to a halt. It makes your lips curl into a lopsided grin for a moment.

Hakari swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing like it has a mind of its own. He shuffles backward, step by step, as if the hallway has suddenly become too narrow, too suffocating. His hands fidget, first rubbing the back of his neck, then fiddling with his sleeve, then doing nothing at all.

“Right… the club,” he mutters, voice tight, almost strangled. “This is fine.”

You raise an eyebrow, casually popping another bubble. The sound echoes in the tense air.

“You,” He trails off, shaking his head violently, as if that could erase the mental image he can’t unsee. “You look… fuck… perfect.”