❝ you can't run from your past.
once there is blood on your hands,
they will never be clean again. ❞

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【 cobra kai crossover / miguel diaz x fem!oc 】
━━ black cat x golden retriever
© zozoleesi, 2022

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❝ i'm going to do what i should
have done a long time ago. ❞

❝ what is that supposed to mean? ❞

❝ it means i'm gonna fucking end you. ❞

❝ if i told you about the darkness inside of me,
would you still look at me like i'm the sun? ❞

i love you
▄▄▄ it'll pass

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ starring

━━ cassiopeia

𝐒𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐎𝐕𝐀

❝ you and me, we're not the same.
i am a sinner, you are a saint. ❞

━━ the widow maker

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ additional cast

xolo maridueña. el serpiente.
maitreyi ramakrishnan. andromeda.
chandler kinney. aquila.
lana condor. orion.

aja naomi king. madame v.
nicole beharie. black widow.
coco jones. white widow.
david castañeda. the soldier.

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˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ synopsis

WHAT IS FREEDOM?

And no, I'm not talking about the bullshit definitions that elitist institutions shove down our throats.

I want to know freedom, in its truest, most pure form.

Was it the wind in your hair with the windows of your car down? Strawberry stained teeth, and cherry juice dribbling down your chin? Was it the tropical drinks that were served in the shells of fruit with a tiny umbrella? Was it basking in the sun as you felt the sand between your fingers, or the water lapping at your feet in the moonlight as you searched for ghost crabs?

Perhaps it was the head rush accompanied by a thumping heart, even burning lungs. The burn in your legs as you ran from your troubles, your responsibilities, and the shitty life everyone turned a blind eye to. Or maybe, it was aching shoulders and sinuses stinging with saltwater as you paddled beyond the tide, waiting for the perfect wave.

Or maybe it was rage.

Every ounce of rage you have ever had to shove down for the sake of your consequences ( or your life ), just having the opportunity to let it control you for once. Maybe the violets blooming on your knuckles and the ruby liquid dripping down your nose and staining your teeth offered a fix that was better than heroin. The smiles that once drew people to you had turned sharp, and made you look primed to tear their throats out.

Sweet, sharp, silver-tongued Svetlana Novikova wouldn't even give you that.

Every story of freedom was just that.

A story.

A joke.

Hands, who have never seen a day of work in their silver-spoon lives, dangle the wonders of freedom over you like it's a toy, and laugh when you are unable to reach it. When you do, you choke, you fail, and they laugh even more.

So I ask again, what is freedom?

No one?

That's okay, I can tell you.

Freedom is a gift ... and freedom is a lie.

Freedom was for the people who dangled the carrot and were fed with their silver-spoon.

Freedom was not for the girls who followed someone's every twisted whim, and threw you away when you broke. It was not for the girls who had dripping red ledgers.

Freedom was not for the Black Widows.

They were made for the shadows. They were made to be stories and lies.

Ironic, right?

Svetlana lived on lies.

She fucking thrived on them.

Her strings were cut, the puppet master was dead, and now, the games begin.

She was careful, quiet in her escape to the states. She had every detail regarding the life of Stevie Novak planned meticulously ( leaving her Academy given name to Red Room ). Her hair was bleached and black and severe. She traded in her skintight catsuits for jackets three times her size. She could use the shitty makeup she shoplifted to cover the shallow scars.

She had stories prepped and ready to put in her back pocket.

Where were her parents? Oh, they got into a car accident when I was little. Here's their death certificates and the paper that covered them.

Where have you been for the past ten years then? Oh, I was in an orphanage in Little Russia. It got shut down and I emancipated myself, so I wouldn't have to get sent to another one. ( If she slipped up with her accent, it was whatever. Just another lovely little backup detail. )

However, there were things that weren't so easy to explain away.

How was she supposed to answer if people asked why she had about twenty guns in every corner of the apartment, and even more butterfly knives scattered around?

She could've gotten away with maybe one or two of the deep scars on her body, but she had twice that in her torso alone. How do you explain away the multitude of raised, ugly, wounds on her body that would more than likely outlive her?

What was she supposed to say, now that San Fernando Valley was in the midst of a karate Renaissance, and she still was leagues above all of its best fighters?

She spent months pretending, curating a reputation for herself that was built on nothing more than rumors that followed fearful eyes. People learned their lesson freshman year, and no one had the nerve to step anywhere near her these days.

Correction, almost no one.

She did have a new neighbor, who wasn't quite aware of the status quo.

Miguel Diaz was as stubborn as a mule. He was scrawny in the way that made you tilt your head, and watch him move pathetically: almost like a train wreck you couldn't turn away from as he spewed nonsense. He was comic book obsessed: he offered strange references that made her feel like she was some hormone-riddled fantasy. He was nothing, if not, persistent.

Miguel Diaz was sweet like honey. He had a smile that warmed Stevie like the sun, despite her frigid heart and her tortured soul. He had eyes that stared at her so tenderly, it could have made her cry, if she had not already gone years without the capacity for tears.

Miguel Diaz, despite every warning and every threat, refused to give up on his strange courting game. Despite her unbearable lack of her charm, he fell victim to the annoyed glances and forearms pressed against his throat. He couldn't help his unsteady breath as she mindlessly brushed her fingers against his, nor his chest burning when she pressed her body into his. Even the wicked grin directed at him made his heart flutter.

He knew, deep down, in his soul of souls, that there was no way that feeling—that encompassing, all-consuming feeling that left him with flushed cheeks and butterflies—there was no way it could be anything other than love.

Poor boy.

Didn't his little friends warn him that she didn't know the first thing about it?

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ dedications

my babes, my darlings, my homies kelci, will, kim, beatrix,
and of course, my sweet el, i love you soooooo much <3

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ disclaimers

━━ all of the characters & plots from karate kid, cobra kai, and marvel belong to their respective creators. all original characters, plots, & graphics have been created or edited by me.

━━ this is a part of my killer queen series where it goes over the lives of the youngest class of remaining black widows after the fall of the red room. the killer queen series is an alternate universe of my marvel series ( death on two legs ) where mcu canon holds very little importance with the exception of black widow. this means there was no accords, no thanos, no world altering nonsense.

━━ this book contains profane language, graphic violence, death, and sexual assault. please read at your own risk.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ author's note

━━ this is a revamp of my miguel diaz fic, formerly known as fool's gold. i love this fic more than words can say, but i was just not very happy with how it looked and how it read.

━━ this is a part of a series/shared universe, where some of my original characters will have a fic available on my plot shop. if you guys are interested, you can go check it out on my account.

━━ just so i'm clear about where i stand and can weed out the shitty pro genocide people that may possibly linger around, free palestine. free congo. eyes on sudan. liberate haiti. peace for cameroon. donate if you can. boycott either way. call your reps. use your damn voice.

━━ i am incredibly slow with updates, mainly because i'm kind of lazy and easily distracted, so please bear with me. i am also a little bit of a perfectionist, so if what i write doesn't come out exactly how i wanted the first time, i hate it and don't want to write for a month.

satellite
【 killer queen, book one 】
━━ published 2022
━━ completed n/a

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