#The teachers will never know a bull wrote the fucking essay

[anaminals]

Got my septum pierced today, chose a gold-ish clicker ball ring (won't be sharing a photo for extremely obvious reasons) and I really like it! It wasn't really painful, though I did tear up while getting it, lol.

Some people have jokingly called me a bull (hell yeah!) and I've been kinda bull-shifty and it honestly feels so nice. It's not the only reason I got the piercing, but still a very fun side effect!

This is me btw, if you even care 👇

[crazygaze]

It's Just That Time of Year

Pairing: Hanamaki/Matsukawa, slight Iwaizumi/Oikawa 

Rating: T for titties they swear but that’s about it

Synopsis: Finally posting that hanamatsu meme drabble fic for my birthday, I’ve had this forever!! Big insp from HQ meme bot

"Wha-I don't want to hear this from assholes who bought a gingerbread house making kit only to eat the pieces and suck the frosting out of the bag it came with," Iwaizumi points accusingly. 

Matsukawa shrugs and Hanamaki raises his hands in surrender. "In my defense- it's hard to resist gingerbread, Christmas is the only time of year I get it." Iwaizumi looks to Matsukawa. 

"Frosting... is good." He says simply. 

Oikawa grumbles. "What good is it to have a gingerbread house making contest if the competitors eat the supplies." 

=

"I love you," Hanamaki sings flatly and strums a badly tuned acoustic guitar with complete gusto, "-bitch." He points meaningfully at Matsukawa.

"And I'm never gonna leave you," Hanamaki strums the guitar again loudly and sings slightly off-key, "-bitch."

Matsukawa watches him impassively from the drums and when Hanamaki goes for the creative musical solo, a music store worker comes up to them with an annoyed look and kindly asks them to leave.

= 

Iwaizumi scowls and pulls open the door. "Honestly, I don't even know why I-" he stops. 

Oikawa frowns. "Iwa-chan, why did you..." He trails off and peers over Iwaizumi's shoulder. 

The team sat in the dark meeting room in a circle with joined hands, the only light in the room was a cellphone placed in the middle. Probably because the fire hazard issue with candles. "If there is a spirit here," Hanamaki says with the utmost seriousness. "Please knock Oikawa out." Kindaichi gives Iwaizumi a desperate look from where he kneels, clutching Kunimi and Watari. Yahaba glances at Oikawa nervously. 

"He's the pretty one." Matsukawa adds helpfully. Hanamaki glares at Matsukawa. 

"Now the spirit is going to think I'm Oikawa and knock me out, I'm the pretty one," he hisses. 

"Oi-" Iwaizumi interrupts the seance finally. "Everyone get to bed! I don't know what stupid shit those two started but it's going to be lights out and everyone in bed in two minutes." 

When there's a silence in response he crosses his arms. "Is that understood?" There's a chorus of uneasy affirming and sweaty hands letting each other go. Just as Matsukawa opens his mouth to say something, Kunimi slumps over on his side, bumping Kindaichi's leg. Kindaichi goes as pale as a sheet of paper. "He's unconscious." He says in a trembly voice. Hanamaki looks offended and puts a hand to his chest. 

"What the fu-hey, I'm supposed to be the pretty one," he argues into the air. Matsukawa pats his thigh consolingly. There's multiple alarming shouts and clamoring and Iwaizumi drags a hand down his face. Kunimi sleeps on, undisturbed. 

= 

 "I don't know why you're crushing on him," Oikawa sniffs. "Look at Iwa-chan, at least he has redeeming qualities." They both look over to where an Iwaizumi is talking to Yahaba, sleeves rolled up and blissfully unaware of all the ogling he's receiving. "He could sneeze on a pickle jar and the lid would pop right off!" 

"First of all, that's disgusting. Secondly, Hanamaki can open pickle jars just fine and didn't Iwaizumi threaten to smash a jar over your head once because you were groping his arms?" Matsukawa lists off and raises a thick but well kept brow. "Also what do you mean crushing on him, he's my boyfriend." 

He waves. "Semantics. By the way, where the hell is Hanamaki?" Oikawa asks, looking around with a squint. Hanamaki is nowhere to be seen. Matsukawa sighed deeply and put a hand over his heart and stared off to the distance forlornly. 

"Hey what the hell is he looking at?" Iwaizumi walks over and nods at Matsukawa, staring at the gym wall or a possibly unamused and equally uncomfortable Kunimi. 

"He's being stupid-" 

"Hanamaki is in detention." 

"What," Iwaizumi said in disbelief. “Why?”   

"Wrote 'sickass motherfucker' on an English essay we were supposed to do. Printed it out and turned it in." 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi look at each other. "I miss you, babe," Matsukawa sighs again and pulls out his phone to snapchat a very close picture of his expressionless double-chinned face and a large caption of 'Send Nudes' to Hanamaki. 

"And they say romance is dead." Oikawa sniffs.

 = 

In an empty classroom in the morning before class, there's Oikawa screaming, running around desks trying to avoid a pencil wielding Iwaizumi. "It's not my fault you don't know acronyms!" Oikawa screeches, darting around desks. He's got the disadvantage of being on the opposite side of the classroom door. 

"You could have told me like a normal human being but no, you waited till there was a teacher behind me?!" Iwaizumi roared, cheeks blazing red. 

"'TBH' isn't hard to figure out, Iwa-chan!" He yells and throws a poorly crumpled paper ball at Iwaizumi. It doesn't deter the other in any way and bounces off his shoulder harmlessly. 

Off to the side, Hanamaki clutches his sides and gasps for air. "T-The Butt Hole," he wheezes and slaps his desk, "He tho-thought! TBH was-!" Hanamaki cackles.  

Matsukawa is softly chanting "Stab him, stab him, stab him," and it rises louder and louder every time Iwaizumi lunges for Oikawa with a mechanical pencil. 

 = 

Hanamaki groans and throws his pencil across the room and it sails over Iwaizumi's shoulder and hits the wall he's leaning on. Iwaizumi doesn't even blink or snap like he usually would, the air that passes through his lips is less of a sigh and more like an exhalation of his soul. His biology textbook has been open on the same page for the past half hour. 

Oikawa is passed out face down on a backpack with a timer counting down for a 15 minute nap. Matsukawa jerks awake at the thump of the pencil hitting the wall and the pink highlighter he was holding to a textbook skitters off the page. Not that it did much considering how much was already highlighted. "Fuck, I hate finals," Matsukawa whines for the nth time. 

"I'm not meant for education," Hanamaki says empathetically. He glances at the clock and 3:17 AM glares at him in red. They're quiet aside from Oikawa's soft muffled snoring. 

"Guys," Iwaizumi says in an uncharacteristically small voice. They perk up from where they lay on the worksheet strewn bed and look over. 

"Will you guys still love me when I no longer ball so fucking hard?" Iwaizumi looks up at them with red-bull-induced despair and wide, adorably sleep deprived teary eyes that shouldn't belong so well on a muscular heartthrob of a volleyball team who literally challenged the basketball captain to a thumb-wrestling contest with the morning gym schedule on the line. 

"I coulda swore I would be the one in the emotional crisis this time around," Hanamaki mutters softly as Matsukawa clamors down from the bed to Iwaizumi. Sheets of papers fall but he heeds them no mind. 

"Of course we'll love you. Don't worry, you'll always ball hard," Matsukawa shoves a pencil in between the biology textbook as a place marker and shoves it off Iwaizumi's lap with a loud thud. Oikawa doesn't stir. He clumsily sits in its place. Matsukawa is already tall as it is and it's a slightly awkward crouch but he pulls Iwaizumi's sniffling face to his chest and clutches him close. "You'll always ball so hard, Iwaizumi. So fucking hard." 

Iwaizumi just trembles and Matsukawa can't tell if it's the fourth can of red-bull kicking in or it's emotions but he affectionately pats down the spiky brown hair. His arms wind around and hug Matsukawa. Hanamaki isn't even phased, "Yeah," he adds helpfully. He rifles through his backpack and pulls out a packet of wasabi peas he forgot to have for lunch. He tosses them down next to them. "We love you. Oikawa too," he adds as an afterthought. 

Oikawa's phone alarm rings and Oikawa mutes it without looking at it and peels himself off the backpack. There's pink indents on his face and he takes a long moment before squinting his eyes open and looking at where Matsukawa has now taken to feeding Iwaizumi wasabi peas in his lap with whispering reassurances. 

"Seriously?" He asks, voice rough but toneless with borderline-grade-at-stake-studying-exhaustion. He’s been riding on 10 hours of sleep for the past three days  

"Don't even," Hanamaki threatens mildly with a protractor. "We literally madeout with you last time this happened because you were convinced we all secretly hated you" 

"...That's fair." Oikawa mutters tiredly, throwing an arm over his eyes.

=

“Send nudes” Matsukawa says rather loudly and sudden in the silence of a perfectly good lunch. 

Hanamaki gets up and leaves.

Minutes later, Matsukawa’s phone pings, he checks it. “Nice,” he says with emphasis.