i need no such light.

Matt didn’t plan to show up at the precinct. He didn’t plan to get involved in the case that was dropped on Jen’s desk. He knew he needed to keep a low profile, and he was entirely planning to follow that plan – but then he actually cast his hands over the pages, picked up on the details as they went through his audio reader, and he realised he couldn’t ignore this case. It was like it was cherry picked right for him, a teenage kid dragged into something and the blame placed squarely on his shoulders because it was convenient. There was a break in the interrogation, so Matt went out into the hall to grab a cup of water. That’s when he heard a voice, and he realised he’d pressed the hot water button instead of the cool water, judging by the warmth of the cup in his hand. “Color coding doesn’t exactly work for me,” he replied, gesturing to his shades with a self deprecating smirk. “You mind pointing me in the right direction?”

Elektra wasn’t saying anything. She was just sitting back in the hotel room, watching Matt lose his goddamn mind, and she wasn’t saying anything. She always fought back. She always rose to the occasion, always made it so that Matt couldn’t breathe for the irritation welling up in his chest, in his throat, in his heart. She was everything that made him mad and everything that calmed him down all condensed into one person, and he had been ranting for the past half an hour about life and death and how he needed to get himself together, and how he had friends that were expecting him, and how his recovery wasn’t going to plan, and how she was alive and he was alive and they both should’ve died down there …

Matt made a certain name for himself as Daredevil. He gained a reputation that he wasn’t expecting, developed a legacy that he used to be proud of but now resented. There was only so far he could take anonymity now when his fighting style hadn’t changed, and he had reverted back to his old outfit. The horns were gone, the red, the body armour – but still he found himself moving in similar ways, utilising the batons as Stick had … as Stick had taught him. It was only so long before someone would approach him, and Matt didn’t even start when they did.‌ “Devils,” Matt corrected, “but I guess they’re one and the same. Glad to see I’m recognisable.” He paused, smelling the air. “You smell like a barbecue. No gasoline, though. Guessing you weren’t the one setting the fire?”

(✉ → unknown): wait, really? What happens if someone sends you a picture? It describes what’s on it? (✉ → unknown): I’m just curious, but you don’t have to answer that.

(✉️ ➡️ MM): It’s inevitable, Matthew. We’re inevitable.  (✉️ ➡️ MM): Why do you keep denying that? 

Matthew Murdock was a challenge and he was one that Elektra thoroughly enjoyed. Everything else was easy. Killing people was easy. Sparring was easy with every other opponent. This was the most difficult thing that she ever had to do and for once in her life - she wasn’t sure that she was succeeding. Her mission had been to seduce Matthew Murdock. In that - she was successful. She needed to recruit him to the Chaste. She was trying. Her mission was to seduce and use him to her advantage. To the Chaste’s advantage to destroy the Hand. Never to fall in love with him. 

Yet - she was head over heels and it terrified her. She wouldn’t let him know how much power he had over her. She knew how much she had over him, but Elektra would never show her cards to Matthew. At least, not all of them. They were in a game of tug of war and neither of them relented. Elektra’s nails dug into his chest, her patience wearing thin, but her arousal only heightening with each passing moment. “Matthew,” she breathed his name, a soft, impatient whine knowing the things that it would do to him. 

There was nothing that could affect Elektra in the way that Matthew Murdock did. It was almost embarrassing the way that a single look from him could send her heartbeat into a frenzy. She’d been trained to be an assassin. She’d been trained in seduction. Trained in lying. Yet somehow - this man had this big of a hold over her. She knew it would be best to forget about the mission. She knew that it would be better if she ran. But that was the problem. She didn’t want to. 

Elektra knew what she wanted. She knew that she wanted Matthew. However, she didn’t like to make it easy for him. She liked making his life challenging. A living hell. Matthew pushed her against the wall and Elektra wasn’t sure that she ever felt more alive. Sans for when they sparred. Her back hit the wall and she melted into his touch, her body conforming to his. She kissed him heatedly, pulling back to murmur against his lips. “No,” she breathed, turning them so that he was the one pressed to the wall. “You give it to me.” 

Every sound she made was thrilling, every move enticing. How was Matt supposed to focus on anything else, how was he supposed to want to, when Elektra was right there beside him, in front of him, in the back of his mind, constantly drawing attention back to herself? There was no one else who could touch her like this, hear her like this, love her like this. Matt needed to take the opportunity he had been given and show how grateful he was for it. Law school was one thing, but all the successful cases in the world didn’t compare to the power Elektra gave to him. When he was standing beside her, everything else faded to nothingness. There was no problem she couldn’t solve, no issue they couldn’t handle together.

They could go anywhere, do anything. Matt knew the crash would come eventually. He knew his mind would act against him, knew before long he would be back down to the dark rock bottom he was so familiar with, but for now, it felt so out of sight he couldn’t even imagine it. “Say it again,” he choked out, and it took a few attempts for it to even become audible to anyone apart from his own enhanced hearing. Elektra would know anyway. Her grip on him tightened, and he knew she could feel his chest rise and fall with increasing speed, his heart pounding under her hands.

Elektra pushed against him, and Matt immediately went to kiss her, not able to hold back. Elektra had the same idea, and his hands went from her hips to curve around her cheek, brushing against her jawline. “I love–” He was cut off, though, by the sudden shift in weight, feeling his own back hit against the brick. No one else could catch him off guard like that. No one could distract him while making him feel as alive as he ever had. Matt let out a burst of laughter, a grin coming onto his face, and he didn’t bite down on his lip to stop it, didn’t feel like it was something he needed to hide.

@mcnwithnofear​

Every time that Karen thought she had a grip on her life, the world had a way of surprising her and turning things upside down. It happened with her brother. The move to New York. Frank. Their child. They were finally in a good place - married, waiting for their daughter. Things had been normal when she went to sleep and the next morning she woke up inside her Fagan Corners bedroom. Still nine months pregnant, no Frank in sight - Karen was a mess. Then, just as she was breaking down, her brother barged into her bedroom and things weren’t so simple anymore. Turned out she was in an alternate universe. 

When she woke back up in her normal surroundings with Frank at her side, she’d been relieved. However, she was also a little bit disappointed. Karen went to her doctor to make sure that nothing was wrong after the whole universe jumping thing. Everything checked out and she just had to wait a few more weeks. The blonde settled onto the couch, choosing not to go to the office for the day. She was uncomfortable and sleep no longer came easily. She’d spent so long fearing the birth of their daughter, but now? She just wanted to hold her and see her feet again. Karen had finally gotten comfortable when there was a knock at the door. 

“God damn it,” she cursed under her breath as she attempted to get off of the couch, “Give me a second!” Karen struggled for a second before getting to her feet and waddling towards the door. The blonde opened the door before stopping dead in her tracks when she saw who was on the other side. Was she in a different alternate universe? It wasn’t possible. 

“Matt…” His name left her lips in a choked whisper. The grief that she’d swallowed months ago came roaring back, along with a hint of irritation. All of that was magnified times a thousand because of her hormones. Karen slammed the door in Matt’s face immediately, pinching the bridge of her nose as she tried to work out what was happening. He wasn’t alive. She’d mourned him for months. She still did when it was late and she saw a picture of them. When she passed the restaurant they’d gone to on their first and only date. Josie’s. Their old law firm. He wasn’t alive but the sight of him on the other side of her closed door stated differently. 

Karen reopened her door and without thinking immediately slapped Matt across the face. 

He should stay away from her. Matt knew he needed to stay away from her – knew that all he managed to bring to Karen Page was hurt in one form or another. Taken by the Russians. Screaming at him on the steps of the courthouse. The brokenness in her voice that day in the abandoned office of Nelson and Murdock when he pulled the mask from a paper bag. How her hands shook immediately after he told her the truth, when he pressed her hand to his chest to prove he wasn’t lying.

At the end of the day, he lost Karen’s trust. He lost it over and over again, broke it down with each lie that passed his lips. He said back then that he was doing it to protect her, but now he knew the only way to do that was to stay the hell away – but then she trusted him again. This other version of her, this younger version, this version that smelled of alcohol and had a heart rate affected by drugs … she trusted in him instinctively, and so a part of Matt – a stupid, hopeful part that wouldn’t die no matter how much he tried to smother it – thought maybe the same could be true for this universe’s Karen.

Maybe there really was a chance of redemption with everyone. Maybe Karen was his.

She called out to him, and Matt felt his breath catch in his chest. His hands shook until he shoved them into his pockets. He was in a suit jacket, an outfit Maggie had pulled together for him, looking every inch the same as he had been when Karen saw him last. Her voice was familiar, her heart beat familiar … but then there was something else. Another heart beat. Someone was with her.

Matt. He planned out what he was going to say to her, how he was going to explain. It all died in that moment. Karen slammed the door, the reverberations making Matt clutch his head and let out a hiss of pain, so when she opened it again, he was just recovering before he sensed her hand coming for him.

@mcnwithnofear​

After an episode, Sarah always liked to go to church. No matter what time it was. Luckily, there was at least one church left in Hell’s Kitchen that subscribed to the idea that no church should ever lock its doors. She wondered if people took advantage of that in more sinister ways than she was. 

Sarah was lighting the candles around the alter, just to scare off some of the chill of the November night. She was just finishing the last one when she heard the doors open behind her. “I hope it’s all right,” she called out. “I promise to take care of them when I’m –” But when she turned, it wasn’t a priest or a nun who stood there. Just an ordinary person, like herself. “Oh,” she said softly, smiling to herself. “Sorry, I was expecting – doesn’t matter,” she said, tossing the spent match into the receptacle. She walked towards him, down the long aisle. “Were you hoping for a quiet prayer, or is a little conversation all right?” 

It wasn’t as rare as most people would believe to have visitors at all hours of the day. Sister Maggie mustn’t sleep, because every time Matt woke up with a start from a nightmare, he could hear her whispering softly to patrons a few floors above him, her voice lulling him back into a fitful sleep. Tonight, though, he could tell she was curled up in her bed, so he took it upon himself to walk up and see who came in instead. It was the least he could do, he rationalised – and maybe he wouldn’t mind being alone when yet again, he felt like he should’ve woken up covered with a thick coating of rubble.

“The first what?” Nadia asked clearly, not entirely catching on at first. She supposed most people her age probably didn’t go to lawyers that often. Maybe he was retired here, and he just didn’t help superheroes like her that often. Jarvis leaned forward, whispering the answer in her ear. “Oh! Really? But you seemed like such a good lawyer. Janet recommended you and everything, and she has refined taste.” She posed dramatically before remembering he couldn’t see. She couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t have a bunch of clients.

 “Sort of?” she said, rocking on her feet. “You helped me become a yankee doodle.” 

Jarvis sighed behind her. “You helped Miss Nadia obtain her citizenship … in our world.”

“The first to look for me. Typically people show up looking for Ms. Walters, instead.” Matt didn’t exactly blame them – for one, he was supposed to be dead, for another, Jen was by far the safer choice if you wanted legal representation. She was far from normal, but at least she was guaranteed to show up to court. She was less likely to be bleeding out on her couch, after all. “Janet?” Matt repeated, raising an eyebrow. He could hear the girl shift in front of him, could map out a vague picture of how she was standing, but he didn’t let it register on his face. It was easy to keep a smile off, after all.

(✉️ ➡️ MM): Meet me there.  (✉️ ➡️ MM): We can spar like old times. 

(✉ → unknown): I'm really glad that I didn't say anything too personal then. 😬

(✉️ ➡️ MM - unsent): You don’t think that I felt exactly the same, Matthew?  Five minutes later (✉️ ➡️ MM): Yes.      (✉️ ➡️ MM): [location attached] 

“Don’t ask,” she mumbled. She refused to look at him, focused instead on ripping the metal handcuffs off her wrist and tossing them aside. The cops would be pissed. They were always pissed at her, even when she goddamn cooperated – which was more often than people thought. She didn’t care, it was easier to imagine the annoyance of the NYPD than think about what was happening in front of her now. 

Jessica closed her eyes tight, inhaling sharply. She remembered the sound of it – the rumble of falling concrete, the dust that flew into the air as part of the skyline disappeared. The red and blue police lights flashing across the scene, but no screams. No tears. No one, except a select few, even knew that there had been a loss. 

She turned back to him, staring at the scars across his arms. “So we fought ninjas, and then nuns brought you back?” She sighed. “That might be the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever  heard, and I’ve heard some shit, Murdock,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. There was something wrong about it – losing Matt had been one thing, a terrible thing, another weight on her shoulders, another name on the list she was responsible for, but this felt wrong. More wrong than Trish, or Coulson, or even… “You owed to me?” she repeated, jaw clenching, hands tightening into fists. “What kind of backwards, Catholic-guilt logic led you to that bullshit conclusion? Jesus,” she breathed, slamming a fist against the table. Barely even denting it, but just enough to release some of the tension coursing through her.

“It sounds … Biblical. I wouldn’t expect it,” Matt replied, because he was never very good at shutting up when it counted, especially when it came to Jessica Jones. They’d poked at the soft, sensitive spots of each other since the day they met, never relenting, and when he heard her voice now all he could think of was sitting in that kid’s living room, running his fingers over the piano keys. He wanted his son to be proud of him. It took fifteen years for someone to look at Jack Murdock’s death in that way, and Matt hadn’t known what to do with it. He didn’t know what he did to deserve that kind of insight – and he sure as hell didn’t change anything that he did after that point to rectify the fact that he didn’t.

After all, he knew what it was like to be left behind. He knew what it was like to hold someone in your arms, knowing they were dead, and he knew the flip side, too – to be told that Mom was just out to the shops, and realise days later that Mom wasn’t coming back. His earliest memory was of someone who was supposed to love him above all else leaving, and Matt followed in her footsteps.

“I was never gone, technically,” Matt replied. “More on the brink.” If his heart stopped beating and he returned, he wasn’t sure what he would do with that. “You’re a woman who can lift an elevator,” he deadpanned. Arguing was pretty much the worst thing he could do in this scenario, but when had Matt ever been good at this? “I owed it to–” Jessica’s fist flew through the air, and Matt took a step back, mostly because he knew the sound would be deafening to him as she hit the table.

The city was in chaos and Matthew Murdock was standing in front of her. She was supposed to come back to New York with no distractions. The chaos was fitting. Elektra thrived upon it and knew that it wouldn’t be a problem. Matthew Murdock, however - he was a different story entirely. He’d been just another guy at the bar. Another mission that she was bound to carry out for The Chaste. It turned into so much more than that in the end. So much more that they had multiple endings. 

She’d fled the first time after she failed the mission. She returned to Hell’s Kitchen and they’d found each other again. She died in his arms. Then, she was resurrected and somehow - he managed to bring her back. No one knew her like Matthew Murdock did and she knew that no one knew him like she did. Midland Circle had been another ending. It was supposed to be the final ending. For her - it wasn’t. The Hand managed to bring her back to life again whether she liked it or not. It didn’t matter if she would have preferred to stay buried under Midland Circle with him. Nothing mattered. 

This wasn’t the Matthew that she knew. This wasn’t her Matthew. Her brain knew that. Her brain knew that there were alternate universe versions of everyone running rampant in the city. Her heart wasn’t so easily convinced. This felt like her Matthew. The way that he said her name sounded like the way that she remembered. The way that she’d heard so many times before. 

Elektra’s grip on Matthew tightened and she opened her mouth to respond only to be cut off by his lips. She didn’t want to think. For one second, she just wanted to pretend. To pretend like it was a possibility that this was her Matthew. She wanted to be selfish. So, she was and she returned the kiss heatedly, her fingers gripping tightly at his shoulders and refusing to let go. 

Her nails dug into his chest and suddenly, Matt was back ten years in time, back to that dorm room where he pressed Elektra to the wall and her lips were on him just like they were now. She moulded to him so seamlessly that he could almost pretend they were back there, that he was ten years younger and believing entirely in the longevity of the kind of love they had instead of knowing the reality, that they were a wildfire destined to burn through the forest long before either of them were willing to say goodbye. If he was intelligent – and Matt used to pride himself on that fact – he would pull away from her and try to move on with his grief in a constructive way. He would take on a job with Jen, he would date a nice, slightly boring girl, he would wear cheap suits to work and help people through the legal channels he spent thousands of dollars and many years of his life trying to learn.

When it came to Elektra Natchios, Matt Murdock never claimed to be intelligent. Everything about her was pure feeling, instinct, like she was calling to him from another life, if such a thing could exist. Matt moved with her, hands immediately going to thread through her hair, and then down to cup her face, running to her hips. He couldn’t decide where to settle. All he could focus on was that familiar heart beat pounding in his ears, the smell of her vast and all consuming and home, and he wanted to remind himself this wasn’t his Elektra.

He was betraying her. He was betraying the woman that died for him, that he tried to die to save – but he had the feeling she wouldn’t hold it against him. Not this one night, not this one moment.

She knew that she had Matthew under her thumb. She knew that she didn’t have to bat her eyelashes to make him bend to her every whim. Elektra guessed that he’d do anything that she asked if she asked him nicely enough. It was obvious in the way that he looked at her. It was obvious in the way that he treated her. Obvious in the way that he ignored his friends, his classes - all for her. She knew her mission. She knew what she was doing. Elektra had a plan for the end, but she wasn’t ready to get there just yet. She wasn’t ready to lose this. 

Elektra had sparred with the best. She’d been taught by the best. However, nothing compared to sparring with Matthew. Whether it was physically or verbally, he matched her on every whim. She’d move and it was almost as if he could predict it. Matthew asked her the question and Elektra smiled at him as if she was egging him on. “Oh, Matthew,” she purred, “It can be.” Their foreheads pressed together and she pouted at the fact that she couldn’t reach his lips any longer. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as her grip upon him tightened. “If you know what I want Matthew, then it’d be wise if you give it to me already. I don’t like to wait.” 

Matthew had a strong will. She’d give him that. If it were anyone else, they would have given into her already. They’d be putty in her hands. Matthew, however, was still standing and he was matching her every move. He’d impressed her in the bar when they’d first met and he continued to surprise her. He put his hand on her chest, over her heart, and her eyes met his and darkened with arousal. He knew her better than anyone and she should have been running, but she didn’t want to run. She wanted him to burn her. She chewed on her lower lip, knowing the effect that it’d have on him, before murmuring, “And you enjoy me making your life hell. Don’t deny it.” 

She had him. She knew that she did the moment the shuddered breath left his lips. As much as Matthew knew her, he forgot that she knew him too. She knew what he wanted and hell - she wanted it just as badly. Elektra wrapped her her hand around the one that was around her neck and she squeezed slightly. “Do it,” she urged breathily. The words left his lips and her heart rate skyrocketed, but she breathed, “I love you, Matthew.” He finally gave into exactly what she wanted, but she couldn’t make it that easy. Elektra pressed her lips to his, before pulling away and asking, “Are you sure, darling? Maybe we should go to dinner.” 

The only other person apart from Elektra who knew about his abilities was Stick, long gone and seemingly never to return. Even his own father went to the grave not knowing just how much his son changed the day of that accident. He lost his sight, but he gained so much. People treated him with pity. He could hear the things they said about him, could hear them muttering about what a shame it was, but Elektra never treated him as if he was made of glass. It was good, too, because Matt was steel. At the end of the day, he was still a warrior. Stick might’ve left, but his lessons remained, and Matt made a point to keep himself up to date, keep his body in that same honed state. It was almost as if he’d just been waiting for Elektra to walk into his life and challenge him in every way – mentally, physically, emotionally.

He lapped up every moment. “I always thought it was a fight,” he retorted. Negotiations were for civilised cases – negotiations were what he was learning to partake in. What he did with Elektra he never needed to practice. It came completely naturally. “Good things come to those who wait,” Matt replied, moving in once again to brush his lips over hers, not pressing them together entirely. He wanted to, though. There was no better taste in the world, nothing he craved so much as knowing that they were connected, that she was his, and he was hers.

It was almost embarrassing how easily Elektra could get his body reacting to her slightest touch, how he followed the curve of her words up and down. She was his first love, first everything, and so he supposed it made sense that she captured him so entirely … but first love implied that there would be another. No one could compare, no one even came close. “Yes,” he whispered, breathlessly. “I’m not denying.” Stealing cars, breaking into houses, Elektra slamming him to the mat in Fogwell’s, none of it phased him. All of it was thrilling, but just as thrilling was standing in front of her. He couldn’t predict her every move and it was infuriating.

Karen imagined that in an alternate universe her life would be drastically different. She hoped that in this universe, her mother had survived. She hoped that her family hadn’t fallen apart. She hoped that this universe’s Karen didn’t turn to drugs to fill the void in her life. However, with everything that she witnessed so far - she wasn’t sure that this universe was so different from her own. This universe’s Karen was older and more stable. However, she didn’t see any signs of her family around the apartment. There were no pictures. She had moved to New York City and away from Fagan Corners. Karen didn’t want to, but it wasn’t difficult to fill in the gaps. 

“You don’t know me, no,” Karen replied, her gaze never wavering from Matt. There was something about him that struck her. There was something that she felt connected them even if she didn’t know whom he was. Maybe it was the drugs. There was no explanation to it. “But you know this universe’s version of me. At least, I’m guessing. Are we really that different? Or maybe you just don’t know her as well as you think.” 

They were different now, but Karen worried about her future. What the future held for her. 

She didn’t have time to worry, however. Not with her heart racing in her ears and Matt grabbing her to swing across to the next rooftop and the one after that. Karen clung onto the man and closed her eyes tightly. When they landed safely, she opened her eyes, but didn’t lessen her grip on Matt. “Is it safe now?” 

This Karen never met Matt Murdock – but then again, this universe’s Karen hadn’t either, when she was this age. Matt wondered whether it was truly an alternate version, or whether this was the woman he knew from the past. If travel between universes was possible, time travel certainly couldn’t be out of the picture. “Yeah,” Matt said lowly. “I know her.” They didn’t have much more time to speak before he had to take off, and then all of his focus was solely on keeping them balanced, moving through the buildings while compensating for his still recovering muscles, improvising where necessary. It was good to have something else to focus on rather than the familiar bounding of her heart.

TEXT MEME || for @ofkarenpages