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Valentine’s day. The only day in the year where being good-looking was a curse, and Hawks felt it. Every year, on the same day, at the same time, in company of the same best friend, the same thing happened.
He tentatively opened his locker a crack. He peered inside and was welcomed by the same old view of piles over piles of letters, sent by all of the horny teenies this school could bear, and more. A strong sent of perfume hit him next and almost sent him to the ground, asphyxiated.
“Argh,” he choked out and waved his hand frantically before his nose. God, it was getting worse and worse every year. He’d gotten a signed dildo last year, what was coming next? The real, entire cock?
Flowers, luckily, had been banned from the school three years prior, after the janitor had been forced to use a wheelbarrow to empty the woman’s toilet (Hawks and Mirko had needed a big enough space to dump all the roses – the woman’s toilet had won, only barely before the main hall).
Sexuality did not matter, he had found out very quickly. He had gotten as many letters from straight guys as from lesbian girls. Apparently, he’d make a great sugar daddy. (Their words, not his). His sexuality did not matter either, as he was openly gay. Which didn’t mean he’d never kissed Mirko, but everyone would kiss Mirko, wouldn’t they?
He eventually had to open the locker completely and he was showered by a mountain of love letters, ranging from cheesy to flirty to horny to outright porn. He had tried reading the two last only once – he’d never done it again. The wording was often as colourful as the letters were themselves.
There were white ones, pink ones, orange ones, lime green ones, chocolate (poo) brown ones, neon blue ones, black ones and other strange colours. Here a little cut-out of one of his favourites to really show how bad it had gotten:
Hawks, you are my love, my life, my laugh and the reason I masturbate in the bathroom every night
Chose me and I’ll take us to Hawaii, where we’ll have seven kids (or mooooore…!) and a blooming sex life (wink wink)
I’m in for threesomes, foursomes or more
The rest of the letter basically described the persons favourite positions, sweet spots and was followed by a fanfiction of how their life together would look like. (Spoiler: it’s a lot of sex).
A few steps next to him stood his best friend Mirko, who was much in the same situation as him, only that her letters were less obsessive and more focussed on describing her own body and why they were attracted to her, which was a lot less fun to read when really drunk with friends. It would be, if it wasn’t so damn sexual. Some had been creative enough to make Hawks question his sexuality.
She moaned loudly as she picked up one of her letters and skimmed over it quickly. She ripped it into confetti and let it trickle to the ground almost instantly. “Hawks, honestly, why the fuck did you insist on coming to school today?” she asked while opening the next one. Hawks looked at her while her eyebrows rose slowly.
“You bloody well knew this was gonna happen,” she told him. Then she handed her the letter she’d been holding. “Read this.”
It read:
Your breast look like ripe melons and I bet they taste like it, too
Breast-feed me
I love you, forever
(ps: crush me between your thighs, mommy)
Hawks pursed his lips and tried to hold back a grin. “That’s a good one, though. Look at this,” he retorted and handed her one of his own. That one was one of the strangest yet.
You’re hotter than the boiling water my mom poured on my little brother’s face
Mirko blinked slowly, once, and then twice. “Am I supposed to be scared?” she asked. Hawks shrugged. “It’s probably just a joke.”
Mirko shrugged in turn and then turned to face him. She stared him deep into the soul and then asked once again: “So, pretty boy, why did you think this was a good idea, again? Someone you liiiike???” She waggled her eyebrows.
Hawks snorted. “Of course there is! That sexy hothead in English class. I’d bang him.”
She rolled her eyes. “The one with the fire quirk? I bet that could be useful in sex. Didn’t know you were a masochist, though.” She gestured grandly with her arms and her voice took on a tone a radio speaker. “Number one hero Hawks burnt to crisp while having incredible sex! His human remains were bought by KFC to be sold as chicken nuggets!”
Hawks grinned. “That’d make for good headlines.”
“With your luck, that letter with the boiled brother’s from him. And he’s a killer trying to destroy society as we know it.”
“Yeah, sure. But how I know myself, he’d be fucking hot while doing it. Both literally and figuratively,” he commented.
She nodded. “Most certainly. But that’s a really freaky one. Have you gotten a death threat yet?” she changed the subject.
He shook his head sadly. “No, still nothing. Your last year really surpassed everything ever seen.”
She winked at him. “Still better than you, then, shorty.”
Hawks groaned and started his way to history class, without bothering to clean up the mess he’d made. So did Mirko.
“One day, maybe, they’ll understand I’m a lesbian,” Mirko muttered.
“Yeah, sure. That’s the day that I’ll get to touch Endeavor’s squishy butt,” he grumbled back.
Mirko groaned. “You and your obsessions with butts and Endeavor do not combine well.”
Hawks shrugged and put an arm around her. “Oh, but they do! You, too, will understand it one day.”