To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU: Chapter 1 - Out [Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz x fem!Reader] (Cobra Kai)
You have been writing these love letters since seventh grade, but what happens when they somehow get sent out?
Warnings: high school (lol i wrote this one when i was in high school but im rewriting it now that im like three years out of it so it feels weird and i feel like it warrants a warning, definitely senior year tho.), hardcore crushing on miguel, mentions of a crush on moon so if ya don’t like women too then idk, uhh mention of smoking weed.
Your letters were your most prized possessions: yours, and yours only.
You wrote one when you had a crush so intense you felt like you needed to snap out of it or otherwise you’d collapse.
So, you wrote letters to try to find closure. Intricately detailed letters that contained every single unfiltered thought and embarrassing feeling you could find in yourself. Everything you noticed about them, everything you wished you had with them, everything you wanted to say but couldn’t.
It started a long while ago.
You never sent them, of course. That idea was completely off the table. They remained stored inside the little blue box with the white ribbon buried deep in the back of your closet, from where you would occasionally take them just to read them again and reminisce on the thoughts a younger version of you once had about all those different people.
They were all properly sealed, stamped and addressed in pretty cursive letters, but never, ever posted.
They were six in total, addressed to five different people.
The first one ever written had been for Eli, from seventh grade. Adorable little Eli, who was one of the biggest nerds you’d ever seen, always too shy to talk around others, but who would go on excitedly about a tv show or a comic book series he liked for hours around you after getting paired for a project got him to warm up to you.
Adorable little Eli, who trembled like crazy before kissing you in a dumb game of spin the bottle, right before running home crying because some girl thought it would be hilarious to comment on how she wouldn't have let him kiss her with "that mouth" if she were you. You, in turn, couldn't feel more different from that bullshit comment of hers after that messy seventh grade first kiss that lasted barely a couple seconds but fed your crush on him for months on end after.
That letter was followed by a new one, addressed also to him, but the new him this time around, many years later, in your sophomore year- to Hawk, not Eli. However that worked.
To Hawk, who had decided to “flip the script”, as he called it, by changing his entire aesthetic and his whole demeanor, showing up to school on a random day with a blue dyed mohawk and a brand new attitude. You liked it.
Confident Eli seemed happier even though he sometimes acted like a bit of an asshole and, as much as you didn’t want to admit it, he looked really, really hot. He was still Eli, but this Eli wasn’t afraid to flirt with you, which evoked brand new feelings in you.
The second letter you ever wrote was addressed to Demetri, from eight grade, who you met around the same time as Eli.
Demetri, who would talk to you about superheroes and binary language and would be so excited about it that you didn’t care to tell him you couldn’t understand a word of what he said.
Demetri, who was so kind as to go to your house to help you with your part on the biology project you were partnered with him in because he knew it was stressing you out, who would offer to tutor you when you told him you were having a hard time with a subject he was good at at school, and who you got closer to when randomly put in many classes together.
The third letter you ever wrote was addressed to Robby Keene, who you became closer to after ditching the homecoming dance in your freshman year to hang out by yourself at the bleachers, despite Sam and Aisha’s protests, only to find out it apparently was Robby Keene’s favorite smoking spot.
Apparently high school dances could be pretty lame, no matter what all high school movies from the 80's had been telling you all your life. You had asked if you were interrupting something when you noticed his presence and he told you it depended on whether you'd be snitching on him or not, and suddenly freshman homecoming didn't suck all that much anymore, because you managed to make friends with the most unlikely acquaintance you could ever have.
Robby, who at fourteen years old got detention for threatening to beat up the kids who made you cry because they kept making fun of you during a presentation, which was about substance abuse, ironically.
The fourth one had been written to Moon, who you used to despise because she used to hang out with Yasmine- who, for the longest time, had loved to pick on you and your friends- especially Eli and Demetri.
But Moon, who turned out to be so sweet after she started doing and saying things for herself as opposed to whatever her friends wanted her to and started hanging out with your friend group.
Moon, who would excitedly invite you to sleep overs and braid your hair as you gossiped about people you barely knew from school, who would do your makeup for you and take you shopping and call you pet names platonically, making you blush furiously and putting you in the verge of short-circuiting by being so casually affectionate now that you’d become friends.
And, lastly, the most recent one had been written to Miguel Diaz, of course.
Miguel, who was your best friend in the whole entire world, ever since he moved to Reseda and you first befriended him at school.
Miguel, who was currently dating Sam, who you’d drifted apart from, but couldn’t for the life of you hold a grudge against.
But before he became Sam’s boyfriend, he was your boyfriend. Well… boy-friend. A boy who was a friend. And things were good as they were.
But then things started changing.
Things started changing when Miguel asked Sam out and you realized you didn’t like that. When the first thing he did when he got home was to tell you all about it, and you felt a pit in your stomach as he went on about how well things had gone.
Until you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore and had to face the reality that the reason it all made you feel so awful was that you were jealous.
It was even worse to figure out why: as much as you could try to lie to yourself and pretend you were just jealous that she was spending time with your best friend, you knew you had to face it: it all came down to the simple fact that you were in love with him.
You didn’t know when it happened, or what was the turning point for that, but you were. Utterly and irredeemably.
And, in hindsight, it seemed obvious.
But then they started dating, and they didn’t want you to feel left out, so they would you and Aisha everywhere, which made things so much worse.
And then they broke up, and things got, somehow, even weirder. Now it was all you and Miguel again, and, even after all of that, you still had those stupid feelings for him. But you weren’t a complete bitch, or insensitive. You’d never make a move, you’d just have to live with it.
Which didn’t mean there was nothing you could do about it: you decided to try to put an end to it, your own way.
Hence, how letter number six came to be. Signed, addressed, stamped, sealed and stored in the blue box under all the others.
Maybe after this you’d be able to move on. Maybe after this things would go back to normal. How you craved for things to go back to how they used to be.
It seemed reasonable enough to just wait on your feelings to die out.
But a certain day came when then Eli- well, Eli, who was Hawk now, marched up to you in the middle of your gym class.
“Y/n?” He called your name, and you stopped running your laps, turning around to face him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. What was Hawk doing in your gym class?
You let him approach you. “What’s wrong?”
“Look, I appreciate it but it’s… not gonna happen. Like, you know we’re friends, and you know I'm still like… hung up on Moon, or whatever. Right? I know the power of the Hawk’s pretty irresistible,” he smirked, quickly going back to his stern expression, “but you should cut it out.”
You really had no idea what the hell he could be possibly talking about. “Dude… what?”
“C’mon you don’t have to play dumb, it’s cool that you think my scar makes me look cute or whatever but like. I uh. Don’t have any feelings for you now.” Wait, what did he say about the scar? He kept on. “And like it’s- it’s pretty cool that you liked me before and now too but this would just- this would be weird. You know that, right?”
You just weren't getting it.
And then you saw it: in his hand, signed, addressed and stamped, were two open envelopes with two different names written on them in your best cursive handwriting. Fuck.
“Hey- woah are you alright? You look like you're gonna pass out.”
You felt like you were going to pass out. You couldn’t even form a sentence in the midst of your shock.
And then, Miguel came into your line of sight. Because of course things had to get worse.
“There’s no fucking way,” you muttered, incredulous. He was walking up to you, a red envelope in hand.
The letters got out the letters got out the letters got out.
He looked confused. He obviously, and much understandably, wanted answers. Answers you’d much rather get hot by a bus than giving him.
This could not be your fucking life.
“No, no, no, no, no, oh, my god,” you looked around frantically as he got closer, trying to figure out what to do. Hawk surely thought you were crazy now.
And then Miguel made eye contact with you and he had that fucking look of pity on his face and you panicked. And so you did the first thing that came to your short-circuiting mind, which was possibly the dumbest thing you could have thought to do: apparently all you managed to think of was jumping Hawk, tackling him to the ground and kissing him in the middle of gym for Miguel to see.
How maturer and over him you were! Incredible!
The kiss was over as soon as it happened, and you pulled away as Hawk stared at you with two wide eyes and shock all over his face.
You could sympathize with the guy- getting this as a reaction to your rejection was probably really confusing.
More important things going on, though. You got a glance of Miguel stopping in his tracks at your little theatrics, making you realize it definitely didn’t do anything other than make things more awkward for you.
“Uh. Thanks. Sorry or… whatever. I’ll see you in bio!” You told Hawk, patting his chest before standing up and booking away from him, running past Miguel way too quickly for him to be able to approach you and ignoring his call of your name, and locking yourself in one of the stalls of the closest bathroom you were able to find, trying every single breathing exercise you’ve ever come across to calm yourself down.
This was it. Miguel hated you, surely.
No, worse: he pitied you. Because obviously he didn't feel the same and obviously receiving a love letter so embarrassingly honest from his closest friend was weird. Now your friendship was going to be weird, and it was all you fau-
No. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. This can't be happening, there was no way.
“Oh my god,” you muttered to yourself. Maybe willing him away in your mind would alter reality so he wasn’t there in the bathroom with you.
If only it were that easy.
Resting your head in your hands as you tried to convince yourself this was some sort of nightmare, you heard a noise come from really close to you and opened your eyesto the pink envelope being slid under the stall to you.
“I thought you’d want it back. Seemed pretty personal.”
“Robby, holy shit, I’m so sorry. You do know I wrote this like years ago, right?” He had to have figured that out, didn’t he? You weren’t even close anymore.
“Yeah! Like freshman year right? When we smoked together while everyone was at the dance.” He didn't seem to be mocking you, didn't seem to be angry. Just pointing it out. You sighed and opened the stall door, deciding facing Robby wouldn't be as bad as facing Miguel. You walked out.
“Yeah it was- it was pretty cool. Better than whatever was going down in the dance.”
“Yeah, I taught you how to smoke that day!” He smiled. “Thinking back on it makes me think you shouldn’t have been hanging out with me back then, actually,” he points out.
You could only let out a small laugh. “I guess not.”
“Look, I don’t know why you decided to send this but uh. I feel like I should tell you that Sam and I are like. Together.”
They were? “Oh. Right! Duh. Obviously. I knew that.” You most definitely did not know that. “I don’t know how this got out, really. I never meant for you to actually see this.”
“Look, we can still be friends. You’re pretty cool. Even with… you know…” he motioned vaguely, “the whole Cobra Kai thing”
“Okay! Yeah, definitely.” He was only being polite, because that’s how he is. But this was much better than having him think you were trying to get with him. You let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll see you around?”
You looked everywhere. Everywhere. The stupid fucking blue box just wasn't anywhere. You tried asking your mom about it, but her answer was short and simple: It probably went with the Goodwill box you’d made last week.
How, you couldn’t figure out, but it seemed to be the only slightly plausible possibility.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. That meant there were five people out there total, five people you still saw every single day, who you were friends with, who had received a fucking love letter with your name signed all pretty on it.
This was hell, it had to be.
You were sure of it when you heard a knock on your front door, accompanied by Miguel’s voice calling your name.
Shit, shit, shit, you were not ready to have this conversation. Why did he have to be your next door neighbor on top of everything? It had always been convenient to live so close to each other, but right now it seemed everything but.
So you did what any sane, responsible person would do: you got out by the kitchen window. Naturally.
Miguel would think you just weren't home.
Again, very mature and totally normal and over it of you.
You decided someone would probably be at the dojo and the last thing you wanted right now was to accidentally encounter someone else who had a letter by surprise. You figured it was too early for someone to be at the diner nearby, so there you went.
You ordered yourself a milkshake and tried to reason with yourself. You couldn't avoid Miguel forever. He’s obviously find a way to talk to you at some point. And then what would you do? Admit you were in love with him even though to him you were just best friends? Let him tell Sam you were in love with her (well, at-the-time) boyfriend? Get politely rejected by him and go around pretending being pitied by him for not being corresponded wasn’t pathetic? It all seemed to come down to terrible endings.
You were so lost in thought you didn't notice him sit beside you at the counter until he spoke up, ordering some fries.
“What are you doing here?” You asked him, annoyed.
“Went by your place. Miguel said you weren't there. Things felt preetty awkward I’ll be honest with you. But you weren't at the dojo either so I thought I’d find you here.”
“Okay. And why did you wanna find me, exactly?”
“Look I just wanna make it double clear that nothing’s gonna happen between us. Nada.”
“Eli Moskowitz I am not trying to date you.”
He seemed to cringe at his own given name, but didn’t complain out loud about it. “Then why would you write me a love letter?”
“No, you talk about me as Hawk though.”
“Last year! Right when you did… that,” you motioned vaguely to his mohawk.
“Okay I hear you but like. Your mouth is saying one thing… but then your mouth said… something… else. To my mouth. Directly.”
“I was panicking! And I’m like, actually sorry.”
You let out a sigh, defeated. “Miguel was walking over.”
“And he also got one of those,” you motioned with your head at the letter in Hawk’s hand, “and I cannot deal with that right now.”
His expression shifted. “Wait, I’m not the only one who got a letter?”
“Huh. You really think you’re special.”
“Are you not, like, surprised about Miguel?”
“Oh, no, it was pretty obvious. But damn you get a love letter and think you’re the man but then you find out she wrote to another guy too?”
“Oh there’s six of them, so don’t go feeling too special.”
You then realize you’d spoken too much. He doesn’t need to know all of this. “Nevermind.”
“Damn y/n, fuck yeah, you're a player! Who were they for?”
“No one! It’s none of your business.”
“Come on, I deserve to know! You did kinda jump me in front of a bunch of people.”
“I mean I wouldn't- I wouldn't want people to find out you think my scar looks hot. Or that when you look at me you think about ‘kissing the annoying smirk off my lips’- I mean who knows what guarantees you don’t have a tattoo of my face on your ass-”
That was embarrassing enough. “Okay shut up! Shut up. Fine, if you wanna know so bad. So two for you. Then uh. Demetri, in-”
“You had a crush on Demetri?”
You kept on. “Then Robby Keene, on freshman year.”
“What, do you have a thing for LaRusso’s boyfriends or…?”
“How did you know they were together? I didn’t know!”
He just shrugged, and you continued. “And then there was uh-” you glanced at him and back to your milkshake. “Moon, after she uh. Started dating you, and hanging out with us.”
He let out a snort. “Right.”
“Sorry. I uh- I know she broke up with you-”
“What, are you gonna make a move on her? Is this what you have a thing for, crushing on your friends’ partners?”
“No. And you asked me about it!”
He looked sorry. He didn’t say it. He sighed. “Fine. Is that everyone?”
“With Miguel, yeah, that’s everyone.”
“Okay. I was the only one to get two letters though.”
You rolled your eyes at the comment. Of course he’d make this be about feeding his ego. The two of you finished your food in an awkward silence before he spoke up again. “Did you walk here?”
“Okay.” After paying, you walked outside, getting on his motorbike. He surrendered his only helmet to you.
Holding onto his waist the whole time after all this was definitely weird but you didn’t let yourself think about it too much, instead thinking about a bigger issue: you really, really hoped Miguel wouldn’t be there when you got home. You got to the parking lot, getting off the bike, taking off the blue helmet and handing it back to him. “How do you even put this on with your hair?” You questioned.
He laughed. “I just like. Push it back.”
“But how does it not ruin it?”
He shrugged. “Power of the Hawk.” He smirked, full of himself.
“Oh, come on. I bet you walk around with a little bottle of hair gel so you can fix it when you take it off.”
“Magician never reveals his secrets-” he looked off at something behind you that caught his attention. You furrowed your eyebrows together in confusion, turning around to see what it was.
Miguel. He hadn't noticed your presence yet, but there was no way he wasn’t going to.
What do you do now? You felt paralyzed.
Hawk seemed to think of something before you could. He placed his helmet on the handle of the bike, very obviously making sure to make noise with it to attract attention, and leaned in, pulling you into a kiss. A… rather passionate one.
He pulled away, wordlessly leading you in the direction of your front door. You got the hint, walking to your place without turning around, and unlocking the door. He pushed you in and closed the door behind him with his foot, loudly. You stayed like that, with him leaning on the door and your bodies flushed together, in silence, trying to listen if Miguel was walking towards your door or not. After a couple seconds, you figured he was not, and you pulled away from him.
“Sorry,” he looked at the floor, sheepish. An usual sight for the new him. “First thing that came to mind.”
“Why is jumping each other the first thing that we think of when we panic?” You laughed.
Hawk laughed along, more at ease knowing you weren’t mad at him. “You did it first.”
You sat down on your couch, but he stayed standing. “Sorry to pull you into this. And thank you for helping out just now. Think I’ll just pity myself ‘till I sleep and then die of embarrassment tomorrow when I see him or something. You can go if you want.”
“Yeah, I think I’ll- yeah.” He started walking to the door, but stopped midway, turning around to face you again. “Hey what if-” he tried to find the words to explain his idea- “um- he probably thinks we’re dating right? Or at least hooking up, or something. I mean, after all the kissing… and stuff.”
“Shit. Yeah. I’ll clear things up, sorry-”
“No! What if- what if we let him?”
“What if we let him think we’re dating? And not just him. Everyone else too.”
“So he won’t think you're in love with him!”
“I’ll rephrase it then. Why would you do that?”
“I mean you know- you know I’m still really into Moon. Maybe we could make her… want what she can’t get?”
“You think that would work? On Moon?”
He just shrugged. “Maybe.”
“So you’re suggesting we fake-date.”
“Have you never seen a movie with a fake dating trope? Doesn't end well.”
“What, you think you’ll catch feelings?” He opened his signature grin, and you sighed, annoyed.
“I’m just saying it’s probably gonna blow up on our face eventually.”
“Why? We can just pretend to date for like a couple weeks. And then we break up or whatever.”
“I’m not-” This could not be a good idea. Could it? “Look I’ll- I’ll think about it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Miguel, Miguel, Miguel. Miguel seemed to be what occupied your thoughts the most. No matter how absurd the amount of drama you were going through was, your thoughts always came back to him.
But the night after the letters got out… it wasn't like that. Eli Moskowitz- well, Hawk, hadn’t been in your head all that much ever since you got over the last crush you had on him a couple years ago. But now Miguel wasn't the only thing in your head anymore, weird of a way as everything else had come into your thoughts.
A/N: in all honesty im only rewriting this because im in a bit of a slum and i almost deleted this off of my ao3 bc of how terribly written the original chapters are lol so idk here’s something someone might like i guess. I won’t be in any rush to post the chapters of this whatsoever, scandalous is 100% my priority this is just for some piece of mind bc I know I’m better than the shitty writing in the original version of this lol
