Hello!! Congrats on your goal ❤️ Could I please ask a smau with Tom in which he accidentally confess to Y/N that he’s still in love with them?? Or just a smau you’d like to write! Thank you, have a good day ✨
In love
Just finished this, and saw it said "still in love" and not just "in love" 😑 Hope you still like it!
Hello 💕 I really need something about jealous!Fabri and fluffiness, so it would be cute if you'd wanna write something about it. Have a good day, love your metamoro headcanons x
Hello!!! Thank you so much for sending this! Here’s some jealous fabri 💕
Fabri is a strong believer of freedom, so he tries not to get jealous too often. The last thing he wants is for ermal to feel chained and constricted by him, he wants ermal to have a fulfilling life outside their relationship too
But sometimes… sometimes it gets too difficult for fabri to control his jealousy
Because have you seen ermal meta? He’s a walking Greek statue, puts Michaelangelo’s david to shame
The looks on the people’s faces when they lay their eyes on ermal, like they’re undressing him with their filthy gaze… if 25-year old messy ball of anger fabrizio moro is still here he’d have murdered them all
thank god today’s fabrizio is a 43-year-old rational man with 2 kids, it helps with the patience
So one time they’re attending a eurovision party in lisbon, something both of them dread especially fabrizio because he cant understand what others are saying 90% of the time
Aligning with the spirit of eurovision the party is held at a gay bar
They get there and meet a lot of new people, and honestly everyone’s been really nice so fabri slowly relaxes
He leaves ermal for a bit to get them drinks (ermal gave him a crash course on ordering in english prior) while ermal starts talking to a group of guys who seem friendly
While waiting for their drinks, fabri watches ermal easily charms the socks out of all the guys and he smiles adoringly from afar
Until he notices something: that one guy with a hat two sizes smaller than his head is being a little too friendly
There’re 4-5 people in the bunch but that dude’s sticking to ermal, laughing obnoxiously at his jokes like he’s desperate for his attention
Fabri’s mind just goes TING TING TING Someone’s!! flirting!!! with!! my!! boyfriend!!
He feels the jealousy bubbling inside him, threatening to reveal itself
The guy starts to touch ermal’s arms casually, lingering a bit too long, disguising it as a friendly gesture
Can’t fool fabrizio though
Now Fabrizio’s thinking hard of ways to pull ermal away from the conversation and most importantly away from the creepy annoying guy
He gets an idea that’s gonna cost him his dignity but who the hell cares??? What matters is saving ermal
So here’s the plan: He’s gonna pretend to be so drunk that ermal has to bring him home
genius isn’t it
He grabs more cocktails from the bar, downs them in one go then makes his way towards ermal
Ermal lights up when he sees fabri (god fabri loves that face so much) and puts his arm around him, kissing him on the cheek
Fabri smiles smugly when he sees the shocked expression on the guy’s face
It’s time to execute his plan
”Errrrmaaaalll… i don’t feel gooooddd” he plasters himself to ermal, who’s now confused
“Bizio the fuck are you doing” “Let’s go hooomeee i wanna cuddle!” “bizio please everyone’s looking at us” “Let them look, fuck em!!”
Ermal excuses them from the conversation and pulls fabrizio to the side
(“okay you never get drunk, so tell me what’s happening” “That guy’s trying to get in your pants” “Which one?” “The one with that stupid hat” “Ohhh him, yeah he’s a little forward, but that doesn’t explain why you’re acting drunk?” “i just want to get you away from him” “oh? Fabri are you jealous? :)))” “yes i am so what”)
And that’s all ermal needed to hear, he rushes back to the group, still holding fabri’s hand
“Sorry guys, I have to take my boyfriend home, he turns into a cuddlemonster when he’s drunk and I don’t think you all can handle that”
The flirting guy, now obviously offended, crosses his arm and asks “boyfriend?”
He says it like he’s thinking ‘i cant fucking believe you led me on’ and now ermal’s the one getting irritated because he wasn’t even flirting back?? he was just waiting for fabri to get them drinks, chill
So he just shrugs “yeah, fabrizio’s my boyfriend, i’m sorry did you think i was single?”
Fabri doesn’t understand because it’s english but he hears his name so he decides at that moment to join in the fun and hugs ermal from behind, nuzzling ermal’s neck, whining “ermal amore, andiamoooo”
They escape the crazy party and in the cab back to their hotel both of them are laughing uncontrollably, recalling how it went down
(”i can’t believe you played along!” “yeah well you went through the trouble of pretending to be drunk, the least i could do was support you, also you’re cute when you’re jealous” “who said i was jealous?” “uhhh you did???” “okay you got me there”)
Back in the hotel ermal’s like “sooooo you still up for the cuddles?” and fabri just jumps him and shows him who he belongs to
The next day the giornalisti gossippari are all “FABRIZIO MORO SPOTTED DRUNK AT A GAY BAR IN LISBON WITH ERMAL META”
Ermal, being a little shit, posts a selfie in response, hickeys very much visible on his neck, with the caption “la gelosia è buona ;)”
Prompt: how about Jessica's reaction when she sees Matt for the first time after the last episode of "The Defenders"?? Like she can't believe he's okay and she understands that she has feelings for him and she doesn't know if he has them too? Happy ending please? Feel free to tag me if you write it, thanks for your attention x
She walks around for weeks with a strange feeling in her chest. It feels like regret and guilt all rolled up into one dull ache. She tries to drown it with alcohol, but when she passes out there are dreams with a demon staring up at her with sad glowing eyes from the bottom of a deep black pit. Her subconscious is not subtle or creative apparently. Nevertheless, she wakes up panting more than once, the stench of alcohol sweat the only thing to pull her back to the present.
The bartender at the hole in the wall down the street knows her on sight. He takes her credit card wordlessly and opens a tab every evening around six, handing her a full bottle of whiskey. The bouncers toss her out around ten each night after she starts trading insults with the other patrons. She lets the meaty dumbbell grab her under the arms and drag her out to the sidewalk. She could break him in half if she wanted, even with the alcohol swimming through her veins making her lips numb. Instead she lets him park her ass on the curb and ignores that pitying look that flashes across his face.
She knows it would be cheaper to just go fill a cart up at the closest liquor store, but she doesn’t like drinking in the quiet anymore. The demon follows her into the darkness, and his sadness is palpable. It’s better when other people are around.
One night she’s more sullen than usual. She doesn’t have the energy to insult the juicehead at the end of the bar, or to pick a fight with the scumbag relentlessly hitting on the few women milling around. She just stares into the bottom of her shot glass until things get blurry and her vision starts to go. Strong arms wake her up, and she twists involuntarily, taking a swing at the person carrying her.
Her fists meets with an unyielding surface, her knuckles cracking painfully. “Motherfucker!”
A deep rumbling laugh vibrates in the chest she’s pressed up against. “That’s a dollar in the swear jar, Jessica.”
She should have known it was Luke. He still uses the same soap, still has surprisingly gentle hands. Still calls her occasionally to make sure she hasn’t fallen off the face of the planet. He carries her like she’s weightless, and she wonders who the hell at the bar mustered up the courage to dig through her jacket pocket for her phone. She’s too fucked up to wonder for long, her eyes drifting shut. Luke’s stride is like a gentle rocking, and she’s asleep again in seconds.
And there’s the demon again. This time he’s on his knees, head bent in prayer. She goes to move toward him, to shove him, to scream at him to fucking move before everything falls down around them, but she’s frozen, and she starts to shake with anger, tears streaming down her face. “You fucking martyr!”
When she opens her eyes she’s in an apartment she doesn’t recognize. The lighting is soft and the decorations are homey. Someone is brewing peppermint tea in the kitchen. Wobbly, Jessica follows the sound of two people talking softly. She sees them before they see her. It’s a picture of gentle domesticity. Claire with her head bent, stirring sugar into her cup of tea, Luke behind her, hands gently resting on her hips. They’re talking about Jessica.
“Are you sure… this isn’t just… normal?” Claire’s voice is so soft, so concerned. Jessica feels the urge to cry was over her. What the hell is wrong with me? She’s never been an outwardly emotional drunk, but her nerves suddenly feel exposed and the slightest breeze feeling seems to set her off.
“This is different. It’s… grief. I know what it’s like.”
Guilt slashes through her at the mention of Luke’s pain. She clears her throat awkwardly, the contrived sound echoing in the tiny kitchen. “Hey, uh, your neighborhood lush has slept off the worst of it, so I’ll be heading--”
Claire shakes her head, cutting Jessica off. “You’re not going anywhere. Drink this and about a gallon of water, and then maybe we’ll talk about setting you loose on the streets of New York again.”
Jessica’s too tired to argue, and she’s lying about sleeping off the worst of the alcohol. It’s easy for Claire to guide her back into the living room. The nurse is motherly in a way Jess has long forgotten, and stern too. For the first time in a long time, Jessica feels compelled to do what someone else tells her.
The tea is warm, the smell of peppermint filling her sinuses, waking her up. Claire brushes away a clump of hair that’s fallen in front of Jessica’s face. “We all miss him, Jessica.”
Jessica rolls her eyes, or at least tries to. It looks a little more like a failure to execute a wink. God, Luke sure wins this round. With his perfect girlfriend, and her perfect tea, and her perfect reading of my pickled brain. She feigns ignorance. “Who do we miss?”
Claire sighs, taking the cup of tea from Jessica’s limp hands and setting it aside. She draws Jessica into a tight hug, and even though Jessica has the all the strength in the world, the tenderness is what breaks her. Tears stream down her face noiselessly.
Eventually she manages to eke out a strangled question. “Why do I feel like this?”
“That’s what he does Jessica. He’s charming and kind and good… easy to love. He makes you care about him and then self-destructs.”
Jessica wasn’t lying when she told Matt that she reads people, but it’s still a surprise when she looks into Claire’s eyes. They are filled to the brim with sadness. Jessica sniffs, “What an asshole.”
Claire laughs. “Yeah.”
-
She thinks she might be losing her mind when she starts to see the demon during the day. Out of the corner of her eye there’s a flash of red, light bouncing off of round red lenses. It happens at least three times before she pinpoints a source. Whoever it is disappears into a dark alley, and they’re gone before she can push through the crowd of people milling on the sidewalk. Her heart thunders in her chest and her hands shake as she scales the side of the building.
Looking out across the rooftops she finds nothing at all, disappointment like a boulder settling on her chest. She stops by the liquor store on the way home, using the last of her credit card balance to purchase a measly pint of whisky.
When she gets home, she notices the lock to her door has been fiddled with. All of her internal alarms start sounding, fight or flight building in her muscles. She eases the door open as quietly as possible, eyes scanning for signs of an intruder. She checks every nook and cranny, fear coiled inside of her like the spring of a bear trap.
The last thing she notices is the brand new leica camera sitting on her desk beside a fancy leather case. There’s no note to accompany the strange gift, but her heart leaps into her throat anyway. There’s only one person who owes her a camera, and only one person who’s guilt would prompt him to come back to the grave just to buy her the most expensive camera that exist. She can’t fucking believe the asshole is alive.
-
Once she knows she’s not losing her mind, it’s not hard to catch him following her again. He likes to watch from up high with an easy escape route. And he’s Matt Murdock, she just knows he’s hiding out in some quiet religious nook. It’s not long before she realizes all of her sightings center around a monastery in Brooklyn.
She watches from afar for a full day, lying on her stomach on the roof across the street, her new camera with it’s telephoto lens clicking away. He doesn’t make her life easy and just walk out into the open. She does notice a nun making trips to one of the side buildings on a regular basis, taking fresh linens into the building and leaving with a bad of dirty laundry. No one else approaches the dwelling.
She waits until it’s dark before vaulting over the stone wall. A rose bush clinging to the brick and mortar swipes across her cheek, leaving angry red marks. She hisses out a curse, stifling the urge to rip the bush right out of the ground.
She’s not stealthy, doesn’t even bother to try. Matt knows she’s coming. She makes sure he can hear her muttering under her breath, panting with anger and pent up frustration. She’s about to rip the door to the stone lodging right off its hinges when it swings open.
Her heart stops when she sees him, something she hadn’t anticipated at all. She wants to send him flying into the wall with a swift kick, wants to beat the soft expression off his face with her bare knuckles. He’s not wearing his shades, and his unseeing eyes are wide open, surprise fluttering across his face. She can’t fucking move for the life of her.
He breaks the strange tension, one hand coming up and reaching toward her face. “You’re hurt.”
There it is, the damn is broken. “You’re damn right, I’m hurt.” Halfheartedly, she shoves him. Even at half strength it’s enough to send him stumbling across the room. She stomps after him. “You made me like you.” She shoves him again. “You fucking martyr, you made me care about you and your stupid devil ears, and then I couldn’t save you.”
Wavering, her voice breaks. Her eyes are glassy, and she can barely see what she’s doing, but she steps forward again, pushing him one more time. He lands with a thump on the bed in the corner of the small dwelling.
“Jessica…”
His voice makes her so mad she can’t think. He’s sorry, she can hear it. He regrets what he did. She moves forward again, but this time he catches her around the waist with his arms and pulls her down on the bed with him.
He holds her tight, letting her bury her face in the crook of his neck. She hates crying, hates the way the salty tears feel slipping down her cheeks, hates how her nose gets all stuffy, hates how it makes her feel like she’s baring her jugular to a wild animal. She mumbles into his skin. “You asshole.”
He’s so warm beneath her, wearing nothing but a soft pair of sweats. She can feel the pulse at his throat, and she needs to know if he feels any of the things that have been ravaging her for the past couple months. She presses her lips against the skin, sucking gently, kissing a tentative trail up the side of his neck. “That god damned camera was cost like three thousand dollars. How the hell am I supposed to repay you?”
His arms tighten around her, body shaking as he chuckles. Oh, she fucking missed that, his amusement at her prickliness. “I can think of a few ways, although I’ll have to immediately go to confession in the morning.”
