#jon bernthal

I just finished Fury and I AM NOT OK. YOU DID THIS TO ME 😭

Thank you for a new obsession 😭🤣

IM SORRY BABE 😭

IF I HAVE TO SUFFER IM BRINGING ALL THE GIRLS DOWN WITH ME.

Also your welcome 💋♥️🥹 grady deserves more love!!!!!!

(And a bath, and pie, and a damn wife)

Side bar: I have more content like this on the TikTok. Frankiecastle7

You, Frank Castle, and Peter Parker had somehow become a thing. A unit. A fucked-up, blood-splattered trinity that shouldn’t work but did.

Peter called it “three morally questionable friends hanging out.”

Frank called it “a persistent, grating headache.”

And you? You lived for the brutal honesty of it. For people who didn’t flinch when you stumbled in at two a.m., knuckles split and shirt stiff with somebody else’s blood.

Tonight, the three of you were packed into the close, gun-oil air of Frank’s hideout. The space felt charged, like the quiet before a detonation. Peter was on the couch beside you, fingers pressed to the cut above your eyebrow. You could feel each of his breaths.

“Hold still,” Peter said, voice low. Not a request.

“It’s a scratch. You’re dramatic.”

“You said that about the stab wound last week. Shut up.”

Across the room, Frank was methodically field-stripping a handgun. But his attention wasn’t on the steel in his hands. His eyes cut toward you two like shards of glass, sharp and frequent.

Peter leaned in, his shoulder pressing against yours. He carefully pushed your hair back from your temple. His touch was careful, precise. Unnervingly gentle.

“There,” he murmured, a faint grin touching his mouth. “Still pretty.”

You felt your own smirk form. “Aw, Parker. That flirting?”

“Maybe.”

The metallic snap of Frank reassembling his weapon cracked through the room. Sharp. Final.

You looked over.

He wasn’t looking at the gun. He was staring directly at Peter, gaze dark and utterly still.

“What?” Peter asked, pulling back slightly.

“Nothin’.”

“That wasn’t nothing. That was a whole lot of something.”

Frank’s eyes slid from Peter to you. The intensity didn’t fade; it redirected. “You done lettin’ the kid play nurse?”

You held his stare, challenge rising hot in your throat. “Jealous, Castle?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. Tightened. The silence stretched, thick and dangerous.

Peter’s head swiveled between you both, a look of pure glee on his face.

Frank stood up in one abrupt motion. He didn’t look at Peter as he passed behind the couch, his presence like a shadow falling over you both.

“Not jealous.” The words were gritted out, low and rough.

You watched his broad back retreat toward the kitchen, a slow smile curling your lips.

Peter immediately ducked his head toward yours, his whisper vibrating with laughter. “He is so fucking jealous.”

From the kitchen came Frank’s voice, cold and clear and leaving no room for doubt.

“I can hear you, asshole.”

You and Peter broke, laughter sharp and bright in the tense air.

Frank didn’t laugh.

But when your eyes found his across the dim space—something burned there that hadn’t been there before. Something raw and acknowledging and fiercely, undeniably possessive.

Jon’s apartment complex is nice, very few, but expensive cars in the parking lot. I barely get out of the car before he’s already at my car door with that soft smile and the to-go box of our cheesecake.

“Ready?” He has his free hand out for me to grab.

“Ready.”

The walk to his apartment was short, he’s only a few doors down from the entrance. He opens his door and the smell of leather, sandalwood, and maybe cleaning products all hit me at once. His apartment fits him perfectly; a loft apartment, the bed on the upper level with ash gray bedding, very minimalistic kitchen right under the loft, wooden kitchen island with two stools, and a brown somewhat torn couch. The apartment has an industrial vibe to it, one wall is just brick while everything else is either wood or metal.

“It’s not much, but it’s enough.” He says it with a humble smile while putting the to-go box on the island.

“It looks like a lot to me. It’s really nice.”

We both take a seat at the island, Jon’s legs are facing me and open as I keep my legs together, perfectly in between his. He just looks at me for a second, his eyes soft as always.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what's that tattoo mean?”

“This one?” I ask as I extend my arm. I have a ‘F.A.M.E.’ tattoo on my inner elbow.

“Yea, that one.” He tentatively reaches his hand out, his thumb gently caressing the tattoo.

I smile, “Forgiving all my enemies.”

“Do you? Forgive all your enemies?”

“It’s there for more of a reminder and less of a statement, but I try. I definitely do try.” I look at his hand on my arm, then at him. My heart is so heavy with the truth, I have to tell him. “I have to tell you something.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

I refuse to look at him now, I’m looking at the floor, out the window, at my arm, everything but him as I speak softly. “I, uh. I’m.. not an alcoholic. I never have been, hell, I’ve never even drank alcohol.”

“You’re joking?” His eyebrows are furrowed, his hand is slowly falling from my arm.

“No, I’m serious. I made a promise to myself at 13 to never drink.”

“So.. Why the hell were you at the meetings? For fun? To get off on peoples fucked up lives?” He’s upset now, understandably so. His hand has fully retreated from my arm, he’s looking around in anger while trying to make sense of my deceit.

I can feel my eyes starting to sting. “No.” I sigh.” To save you a sob story, my mom was an alcoholic and it.. made life harder for me in a way. I didn’t drink on my 21st birthday just like I said I wouldn’t but that didn’t bring me the closure I thought it would. Nothing has. So I thought going to the AA meetings would, I thought they’d help me understand her better.”

“So that bullshit that I should tell my ex-wife that I'm not drinking anymore is because that's what you wish your mommy would do?” His voice is condescending, mean, and angry as he stands up, looking down at me.

I look up at him, my eyes red, and the hurt from his words visible on my face. He takes a deep breath, runs a hand over his face, walks toward the counter where he leans forward, his back turned on me.

“I know I should’ve told you earlier, I’m sorry. I just didn’t see a reason, I guess. I don’t know, I felt bad about it by the second meeting. I asked Dan and he said it was okay.”

“And Dan’s opinion really matters here because you’re at his apartment after going on a date with him.”

I just sigh, he’s right.

“Let me tell you something,” Jon turns around to look at me, his arms crossed over his chest. “That night you said you weren’t in your mind? I thought you relapsed, I thought this girl that stood out to me, that I felt this sudden attraction to and interest in was letting me in.” He drops his arms to his side “Look, I get we haven’t known each other for long, but when I told you I never loved my wife, you didn't think that was a good enough time?” He scoffs and sighs, shaking his head. “I told my story to everyone at the AA meetings, yeah, but because that's the only place I won’t be judged for having a problem. You invaded that. I thought whatever story you had was so fucked up you were ashamed to tell anyone. No, you just didn’t have one. You were using the vulnerability of everyone in there to fix yourself and that's selfish. Therapy is for when you need closure, not a sacred place for other people to finally tell their stories.”

A few tears have rolled down my face and I’m biting the inside of my cheek as I look at him, trying so hard not to just shut down and leave.

“I didn’t know you thought I relapsed. I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, you’re right and I’m sorry. I didn’t think when I went to the meetings that I’d find someone that I liked so all the plans I had went out the window and I had no clue what to do by then. I was worried that had I told you earlier on this wouldn’t have gone any further.”

Jon mumbles “damn right” under his breath. That was all I needed for me to not talk anymore. There's an uncomfortable silence.

Jon nods his head toward the untouched to-go box. “After you finish that you can leave.”

“I don’t want that. It’s all yours.” I stand up and wipe my face, I still haven’t looked him in the face since I decided to tell him.

The walk to the car was just me crushing my bottom lip between my teeth, refusing to cry. I pull out of his parking lot so quick, just wanting to go home. I speed home, no music on but I barely noticed. My thoughts were a lot louder than any song I could play right now. All I can think about is my need for closure and to understand my mother, I’m trying to find that everywhere but her.

Back home I skip a lot of my routine and just get in bed, no drawn out showers, no scandal, no diet coke. I open my texts with Tila.

Kayla: I told him.

Tila: How’d it go?

Kayla: He’s so mad at me. It was bad.

Tila: I’m sorry. You okay?

Kayla: I’ll be fine. I barely knew him anyway. Better to end it earlier on I guess.

Kayla: Bring mom to the next dinner.

Tila: What??? Why?

Not much longer after she sent the text she started calling me.

“Why do you want her at the dinner?”

“Because I’ve tried everything but talking to her. I haven’t had a true, meaningful conversation with our mother since I was 14 and right now, I just need to understand. You said she isn't drinking anymore, so I don’t see much of a problem.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing yourself right now. And when I said she wasn’t drinking I meant more of a, she isn’t getting drunk drunk.”

Warnings: none/SFW, description of kissing

A/N: HE WON’T LEAVE MY HEAD!

~~~

bf!Frank, who doesn’t think twice when you absentmindedly bring his fingers to your mouth for comfort, softly dragging the pads of them over your lips, breathing him in. Then without thinking, wrapping your soft lips around his fingertips, starting with little kisses, tasting skin with little flicks of your tongue. He won’t say anything but will watch out of the corner of his eye as you do it, half smiling at that glazed-over look in your eyes. Then he’ll just lean back and let you, eventually helping you coax his fingers a little deeper, taking glances at the way your eyelids close halfway, your tongue lazily playing, sometimes feeling the gentle pressure of teeth. It’s not sexual unless you make it so, and he just enjoys letting you take what you need from him.

bf!Frank, who knows what triggers you and will pull you a little closer to him before you even get the chance to react. He’ll gather one of your hands in his own larger one and give a firm squeeze, positioning himself to stand behind you. And when no one’s paying attention, he’ll place a light kiss on the top of your head, whispering something of “you’re okay, shh” or the like.

bf!Frank, who’s achingly, frustratingly gentle, in every way.

bf!Frank, who won’t bother you about where you are at any given time, but trust that he knows and is always thinking about the fastest way to get to you in case of danger.

bf!Frank, who will hold your hips down while he kisses your tummy, ignoring your uncontrollable giggles from the tickle of his lips and stubble. He’ll look up at you, feigning innocence and saying “what baby?”, before returning to your soft skin with the slightest hint of a smirk. Squirm and pry at his hands all you want, he’ll be done when he decides he is.

bf!Frank, who wakes you up from bad dreams by wrapping his strong arms around you and kissing your forehead. “Shh sh,” he’ll whisper, rocking you gently in his arms as you begin to stir. “You’re okay sweetheart, wake up baby it’s jus’ a dream. S’okay, ‘m right here.”

bf!Frank, who has never once raised his voice at you and never will.

bf!Frank, who hides his face in the back of your neck when he startles awake from a nightmare. He refuses to wake you, but his arms will circle a little tighter until the tremors stop and he can breathe again. Sometimes the little jump will make you stir a little, and you’ll sleepily stroke his forearm until you feel his racing heart settle against your back.

bf!Frank, who always wants you in his lap. Whether he’s reading, working on something, having coffee in the morning, he’ll instinctively reach his hand out to you or pat his thigh, waiting for you to inevitably wrap your arms around his neck and curl up in his lap.

bf!Frank, who can’t get enough of kissing you, and is achingly good at it too. The way he cradles your head in his big hands and looks at you before touching his lips to your softly, taking it so slowly. First placing the tiniest kiss to your top lip, then your bottom, then flicking his tongue between the two. Pulling back to kiss your nose, your forehead. Holding back until your stomach is fluttering and you need him, rushing to close the distance, savoring the taste of him as he smiles against your lips.

bf!Frank, who could cry at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you, so he distracts himself with making sure he’s able to take every measure possible to protect you.