2015 drabbles

[h_itoshi]

Title: Drabbles of the year!
Fandoms: Kis-My-Ft2, Hey! Say! JUMP, Sexy Zone
Ratings: PG
Wordcount: 5 x 100
Notes: So I wrote five drabbles this year. Yep, five, because drabbles are NOT my thing (/wordvomiter). But here they are, inspired by random things I've seen during the year but didn't feel enough about to write a full fic. Like Kitayama's solos, the Kindaichi drama and Fuma playing with a hula hoop on sc.

Challenge

The most attractive thing about Kitayama, Senga thinks, is that he knows what he's doing. Not knows like Kamenashi does, or even Yamashita. He's not swaying his hips in an elusive, somehow over-earthly way to signal to fans that they can always look but never have him. No, Kitayama knows how to project that he's right there and he wants it. His intense eyes are so present when he dances like that, that tiny knowing smirk asking you to come and play with him, ravish him, wipe that smile off his face. And that's exactly what Senga aches to do.

That Special Air

There's something special about people in love. Something in the air that turns best friends into something so much deeper.

Kitayama's not the romantic type. But with three different kinds of 'something' in the air around him, he's gotten good at recognizing them. How Tamamori automatically calls for Miyata when something fucks up, how Nikaido's hands gently rest on Senga without even thinking about it, how Fujigaya smiles when Yokoo says something sweet.

And even though he doesn't have a relationship himself, Kitayama thinks he's the happiest, because he can have all of those special airs at the same time.

Golden Skin

Yokoo dips the brush into the golden paint, carefully wiping excess paint off on the edge of the jar, before putting the tip back against Fujigaya's tanned skin. He continues the pattern he's been working on, finishing the abstract swirls that trail from Fujigaya's shoulder blade and forward, down to his collarbone, a few strokes on his throat.

"Does it look good?" Fujigaya asks, biting his lip anxiously.

Yokoo looks it over, at the shiny gold contrasting Fujigaya's skin, at his smoky eyeliner and low cut neckline. "Taisuke, if he doesn't make a move on you tonight, he's not even human."

Direction Detective

“Hey Dai-chan.” Yamada smirks, grabbing Daiki's wrist as he passes him in the dressing room. “I like you looking like a dork and calling me 'senpai'.”

“Bet you do, brat.” Daiki rolls his eyes and tries to tug himself free, but instead he's pulled closer to Yamada.

“Yeah.” Yamada breathes, reaching up to slowly remove Daiki's ridiculous glasses. “Feels like a roleplay.”

“... Well, if you want me to keep calling you senpai... Prove that you deserve it.” Daiki challenges, and immediately there are hungry lips against his while Yamada's hands go straight for his curls.

Hula Hoop

“Fumaa.” Kento whines out of nowhere and Fuma turns to look at him, surprised.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow at Kento, who's suddenly sulking on Fuma's sheets, phone in his hands.

“Do you have to flaunt your hiprolls on television?” Kento pouts, looking up at Fuma.

Fuma just stares, because Kento himself looks like a shameless slut the second there is a camera close. “... Seriously?”

“I'd rather you only show me that.” Kento explains, a light blush on his cheeks but his eyes dark, and Fuma can only laugh before leaning down for a kiss.