#700 words

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe - Daredevil (Netflix)

Trope: Enemies - Canon Divergence - Open Ending 

Character: Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter (Bullseye) 

Pairing: Dex + Assassin!Reader (Female)

Summary: One assignment could change everything. 

CW: Angst, OOC Dex, violence, dark themes, power dynamics, morally grey characters, etc.

This Idea

Author’s Note: Hi! As an important detail, this story has been inspired by movies like “Black Widow” and “Ballerina” from the John Wick series. Feedback would be appreciated and thank you so much for checking out my work as always. - V. 💜 

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When drifting between countless shadows over and over again, your footsteps meet corners without detection. Who the hell remained sober enough to check windows after sunset? The city might as well drown through darkness. 

Their eyes meet. The Haruspex forgets his line. "W-why?" is what he comes up with, voice cracking. That's not it, it was something about them being alike – The word sounds strange coming from his yet unused vocal chords, feels ticklish in his throat.

No matter how much he tries, Lan Wangji cannot move. The swarm of women is closing in around him. Their movements are strange and unearthly, too quick for the eye to follow and yet slow and treacly. Not quite a dance but he knows no other words that could describe the way in which they swirl and titter around him.

A hand trails down his chest. Lan Wangji grits his teeth and looks away, staring unseeingly into the darkness. He does not know what their intentions are but he knows he must get away, he will not fall prey to this.

“Ah, I see…” the woman whispers into his ear. “I know what it is you need.” And then finally steps away from him.

I like Kot Kot a lot.

Despite the almost harsh difference between the intro and how the song progresses, it´s not too out there.

The music seems chaotic and structured, is melodic, nostalgic and two-faced more out of necessity than provocation, and it´s ongoing. It spirals.

There is a lovely moodiness to it that seems mature and balanced, deliberately using the intro as a bridge again and repurposing the funky "kot kot" into something that softens into the lighter part of the song. The change of pace is noticeable but not alarming and almost hopeful.

Kot Kot is not a big song nor does it exist to troll. It enjoys being silly with the chicken theme and builds a narrative that can be purposely misunderstood by people who don´t like him.

During my first listen I was a little confused but intrigued by the seemingly contradicting parts that adapt well by the second listen. Pop and Rap evolve from clashing into shaking hands.

It feels a bit like a song nobody would put on an album anymore because it is deemed barely good enough to keep up with its fellow, more popular tunes. It stands on its own where others see a filler track.

Overall, it makes me have more hope for the album now; for it to be an album and not just a compilation of Singles.

I wouldn´t be surprised if this song was the opening number, nor would I be shocked to not find an Intro at all – Kot Kot is an introduction in itself.

From what I understand of the lyrics, it also is the first song of his that makes me want to know more about him as a lyricist.

To start the song of with MAYDAY is a deliberate choice because the song is not what it seems.

It´s soft spoken and not a shrill cry for help but knows of something that already affects the narrator enough that reaching out soon is imminent. It´s a literal stress signal.

The teaser made me think the protagonist in this song was simply sick of being treated like someone doomed to continue staging a party for others.

Relying on translations and interpretations of this song, the protagonist seems to realise that their lifestyle will rather leave them with very little time spent having fun with friends – because even the party-goers have gone to bed earlier than them.

Those that tried to keep up with them may have lost their step and had to give in to their own different schedules, or are worse off for keeping them company. So their company diminishes further.

There might be little life beyond the lifestyle, the sobering thought that solitude is too close within reach for comfort – the time left after work cannot always be shared nor of quality due to their schedule.

A double blow. Real life and bonding has to be spent in time confetti. Throughout it all, the silliness persists.

Rather laughable is the Explicit rating of this song. Was it the Perhana!?

The ending is a jumpscare, them finally being silly, breaking the cycle. But at the same time, it´s a rooster greeting the morning – the protagonist worked the night away.

For a moment, you are relieved the song is over. And then you play it again.

I would love for the upcoming album to be a concept album.

This song seems to divide people in a different way than songs before it did.

Some of you seem puzzled, others more neutral than hateful, none of the dislike so far is really loud.

The timing might be a bit unfortunate – song releases at this hour have the same problems as the protagonist in Kot Kot.

And even if you really don´t like this song, I fell that there will be something on the album that you will like.

It´s ok to not like things and it doesn´t have to be justified.

Still, I am interested to hear what you don´t like about this song because I think it makes for a worthwhile conversation and I like interacting with you.

“Not this again,” Harry murmured, with the eyeroll and the tragic sigh and the telling quiver in the corner of his lips.

“Sorry,” Draco grinned.

“You know I hate it when you—” gasped when Draco took his hand, pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. “Malfoy.”

Draco batted his eyelashes. He’d heard from a very credible source they were devilishly long, and awfully convincing. “What? Am I not allowed to court my partner?”

“Allowed isn’t really the issue. We’ve been married for three years, arsehole. There’s no need to court me.” Still, with a slightly-trembling hand, he took the flower. “Where’s this from, then.”

Grin widening: “A village near Halifax. Got rid of the nastiest case of Knottivites you’d ever seen, the poor lamb was barely even visible underneath it. Got her trimmed and happy by tea-time, and the field was just lovely on the way back, all blossoming. Made me think of you.”

“Because the grass is just like my eyes,” Harry said, in a tone that was probably meant to sound mocking, failed miserably. “No, let me guess, a flower reminded you of my lips.”

Such cheek could only be met with decisive action, Draco thought, and grabbed his husband by the waist, brought him close-close. “It was actually a tree,” with a huff, and a kiss to the tip of his nose. “A specific curve in a branch. Perfect, just like your arse.”

“Oi!” Harry squealed when Draco pinched, “get your—honestly! Draco, that tickles, you son of a—ha, ow, ow, stop!”

Flushed-cheeked and in his arms, unbearably sweet, laughing and squirming. “Never,” Draco said, and he meant it. “Harry, I—”

“No! Stop it! You silly thing, I know,” breathless, “I know you’re a sap and I know you’re relentless and I hate how, how,” stopped there, shook his head. “I can’t think when you’re like this. Can’t you just, insult me a little or something?”

“In a minute,” Draco promised, nudging until he had access to Harry’s neck, to kiss it and kiss it. “I think I kind of like you like this.”

“Shut up,” still laughing. “You like me any way.”

Draco hummed. “It’s possible.”

“And you’re im—Draco, ha ha, stop!” to the probably-ticklish nips up his jaw, behind his ear. “What about dinner, you git. Stop with the bloody, attack, okay, we get it, you like me!”

“Do we,” with a lick just to drive the point across. “Do we get it. That I like you. Honestly, Potter, sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing wh-hat!” the cry turning into an actual shriek when Draco picked him up, legs automatically fitting around Draco’s waist. “What the fuck!”

Harry was heavy, and Draco’s whole body was sore from casing all day in the field. Happy, happy, he carried his husband to the sofa, and dropped him there with a thud. Climbed on top of him, crushing a bit. “Do we get it now?”

“That you’re a twat? Yeah, baby, we knew that already.”

“Mm-hm,” with a helpless grin. “And you hate it, of course.”

“Despise it,” this fire in his eyes, truly unbearable.

Draco traced his bottom lip with a gentle thumb. “Abhor it,” he added nonsensically.

“Detest it,” nodding, spreading his thighs wider, wiggling so Draco slid closer. “C’mon, Malfoy, quit nattering and kiss me already.”

“You fiend,” with affection thick in his throat. “Do you get it, though. How much I like you. How I think you’re the loveliest thing in the world, and the prettiest, the most precious—”

Harry put his hand on Draco’s mouth, then replaced it with his own. “Yes,” in between kisses, breathless, “yes, I got it, okay. I’m lovely and precious and you’re a prick.”

“He truly does get it,” ducked, still laughing. “What about dinner.”

“We’ll get to it,” getting himself comfortable on the sofa, red-cheeked and the dearest thing Draco’s ever seen. His husband, who’s so easily flustered and so incredibly sweet. “What about my kisses.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” raising an eyebrow, “I thought perhaps it’d be too sappy for you to—”

Harry smiled against his lips: dinner would have to wait. This was more important.

Petunia is frowning, looking down the street with contempt. Lily doesn’t understand it.

“Do you want to look around?” She asks. 

Petunia shakes her head. “I want to go away! I don’t want to live here!”

Lily throws her a sympathetic look that Petunia ignores; there isn’t anything any of them can do now. Their parents just signed the contract and now the Evans are the owners of a nice cottage in the country.

Lily doesn’t want to say anything, but she is happy with this change. Sure, she will miss their home in London, her school and her friends, but there’s something about this village that looks far more charming; perhaps it’s the old look of the town, one that takes her back to Roman times, or the cottages that seem to have existed there since Shakespeare was a boy, but whatever it is, she could swear that Godric’s Hollow is almost magical—

“There are no other kids here,” Petunia adds, moping. She turns to enter the house. “We will be all alone with old people.”

Lily had always thought her sister fared better with grownups — everyone always commented how proper and well-behaved she was — but she doesn’t answer, Petunia’s concerns reaching her now. There is no school in the village, so they will study in a nearby town—but when they return home, that's it for the day, and Petunia says she is too old to keep company with Lily all the time now…

Perhaps this change wasn’t a good idea after all.

She kicks a stone in the ground, and sits dismayed on the porch in front of her new home. She doesn’t want to be alone—she closes her eyes and imagines all the magic in this small town swirling like a galaxy spiral, wishing that she won’t be alone—

And the universe seemingly answers her, for when Lily opens her eyes, she finds a boy around her age in front of her, looking just as amazed to find her there as she is to see him.

“Hey,” he calls, smiling. “Are you the new neighbours?”

It’s hard to get Yuzuko to take things easy: she is pregnant and she is bored.

More than once, Kazuki has woken up in the middle of the night to discover his wife fussing over yarn or rearranging jars in the cupboard. “Don’t they look nicer this way?” she’d asked innocently, as though it were perfectly acceptable to be awake at 4 am lining up sauces, pickles and jams from lightest-to-darkest.  “It’s like a little rainbow.” 

Ignoring her protests, he’d taken Yuzuko’s shoulders and steered her away. 

She takes little trips to the park.  Ambles along to the convenience store.  She almost always returns with plants – another tiddly succulent to stash beside the TV, or a solitary stem to plop in the vase that sits on their dining table.  Kazuki doesn’t mind.  The yellows and purples and blues that Yuzuko fills their home with contrast sharply against the blood on his hands.  He likes the distinction. 

He’ll have to stop, when the baby gets here.  Lying to Yuzuko is getting harder.  Every morning, he leaves the house wearing a suit.  He returns at an appropriate time.  Over dinner, he makes excuses about how he’s spent so long wilting in the office that he can’t possibly bear to recount his day.  However, Yuzuko’s desperate for entertainment and wheedles the occasional story out of him.  Kazuki goes into overdrive, inventing colleagues – there’s Kyuusuke, his desk-mate who wears glasses and Yatarou, a guy who used to run a café before he moved into corporate management.  Every so often, Kazuki loses track of which of the pair said what.  Yuzuko scratches her ear and says that Kazuki’s clearly overworked. Why else wouldn’t he be able to keep his stories straight? 

He’ll have to stop. 

For sure.