#juniebbernthal

── is always soft with his girl no matter how hard she is on him.

♱ Frank acts like your anger is something precious because it means you still care enough to fight for him. You can be pacing the motel room at two in the morning, whisper-yelling about the bruises blooming along his ribs, and he’ll just sit there on the edge of the bed watching you with that tired, softened look in his eyes.

♱ Every single time you patch him up, he goes quiet. Not because he dislikes it — because he doesn’t know what to do with gentleness anymore. Your fingers pressing antiseptic to a cut, your brows furrowed in concentration, your frustrated little “hold still, Frank” makes something in his chest ache.

♱ He never argues when you’re scared. If you snap at him for disappearing without a word or getting himself hurt again, he doesn’t bite back. He just lets you feel it. Lets you get the fear out however you need to because he knows your anger is tangled up with worry.

“You done yellin’ at me?” “No.” “…A’right.”

♱ Frank pretends your lectures annoy him, but secretly they ground him. They remind him there’s still someone waiting for him to come home. Someone who notices when he’s limping worse than usual or when he’s gone too long without sleeping.

♱ He’s incredibly gentle after arguments. Not dramatic about it — just quieter. He’ll slide a cup of coffee toward you without a word. Pull your blanket over your shoulders when you fall asleep sitting up. Rest his hand on the back of your neck while passing by.

♱ You’re one of the only people who can get away with bossing him around. Other people get growled at. You tell him to sit down before he tears his stitches and suddenly this terrifying man is grumbling under his breath while doing exactly what you said.

♱ Frank memorizes your comfort habits. If you’re anxious while hiding out somewhere unfamiliar, he’ll leave the TV running low because he knows silence makes you overthink. He’ll check the locks twice without being asked. He always gives you the side of the bed furthest from the door.

♱ Sometimes you catch him staring at you like he can’t quite believe you’re still there. Especially after rough nights. Especially when he wakes from nightmares and finds your hand tangled with his beneath the blankets.

♱ He’s terrible at apologizing directly, so his version sounds more like: “Didn’t mean to scare you.” or “I came back, didn’t I?”

♱ Frank absolutely melts when you fuss over him despite being mad. You’ll be muttering about how reckless he is while dabbing ointment on a cut and he’s sitting there thinking about how nobody’s taken care of him this softly in years.

♱ When you’re on the run together, he becomes fiercely protective of your small comforts. He’ll steal extra pillows from motels for you, keep your favorite snacks tucked in his duffel, make sure you have one clean hoodie left even if he’s wearing bloodied clothes himself.

♱ He trusts you with parts of himself he doesn’t show anyone else. The exhaustion. The grief. The ugly thoughts. And when you hold his face and tell him to stop acting like he has to carry everything alone, he actually listens — at least a little.

♱ Frank’s favorite thing is when you calm down enough to finally let him hold you after a fight. Your head tucked against his chest, his rough hand rubbing slow circles against your back while he presses a kiss to your hair like a silent apology.

♱ No matter how hard you are on him, he never mistakes it for rejection. Deep down, Frank thinks someone loving him enough to worry is the closest thing to peace he’s ever gonna get.

── guess who started watching daredevil + punisher and ISNT okay! youve guessed it! not only that but all my socials are flooded with jon bernthal and his broadway debut..... save me

── comes to you to get patched up despite your attitude and his

♱ Frank shows up at your apartment looking like hell and somehow still has the nerve to act annoyed when you drag him inside by the sleeve of his jacket.

“I’m fine.” “You’re bleeding on my floor.” “Floor’ll survive.”

♱ You swear under your breath the entire time you shove him into a kitchen chair, digging through cabinets for gauze and antiseptic while he watches you with that infuriatingly calm expression.

♱ It’s always like this between you two — sharp words, tense silences, pretending neither of you care more than you should. Meanwhile Frank looks for your car in every parking lot he passes and you haven’t deleted his number in two years.

♱ You come back with supplies only to find him struggling to unscrew the cap on the antiseptic bottle, blood drying across his knuckles. His hand is shaking badly enough the bottle rattles and your frustration evaporates instantly beneath a wave of worry.

“You can’t even open the bottle without shaking,” you mutter quietly. Frank exhales through his nose, stubborn even now. “M’workin’ on it.”

"Frank." “So get your ass over here and open them for me then.”

♱ The words are gruff, but there’s something exhausted underneath them. Something dangerously close to trust. You walk over without another word, standing between his knees to take the bottle from his hands.

♱ Frank goes still the second you’re that close.

♱ You can feel his eyes on you while you twist the cap open carefully, your fingers brushing against his. And then, like the fight finally drains out of him all at once, Frank leans forward, pressing his forehead against your stomach.

♱ The movement is so sudden and quiet it steals the breath from your lungs. Frank Castle, who's always all rough edges and anger and violence, just folds into you like he’s too tired to hold himself upright anymore.

♱ Your hands hover for only a second before settling carefully into his hair. He lets out a shaky breath against you.

♱ “Frank…” you whisper.

♱ His arms slide around your waist slowly, cautiously, like he expects you to push him away. You never do. He’s still covered in blood. There’s dirt smeared along his jaw, bruises forming beneath his eyes, dried crimson staining the collar of his shirt.

♱ You don’t care. All that matters is that he’s here, alive and with you. You lean down and press a soft kiss to his crown, running your fingers down the nape of his neck.

♱ Frank turns his face slightly into your stomach, holding onto you tighter for one brief second before he catches himself.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters hoarsely. “Like what?” “Like you’re worried.”

♱ You almost laugh because you’re way past worried at this point.

♱ “You showed up half-dead at my door,” you say softly, fingers still moving through his hair. “What did you expect?”

♱ Frank doesn’t answer.

♱ But he melts further into you anyway.

♱ The tension between you changes after you finish patching him up, less biting hostility, more lingering touches. More quiet moments where neither of you pretend this is just obligation anymore. It hasn't been for a long time.

── once again saw this prompt floating on pinterest and i just couldnt not do it with frank i love him your honor

── saying goodbye to frank the first time was hard, saying it the second...

♱ The first time you see Frank again after years apart, it’s in the worst possible setting — some dingy little convenience store at one in the morning, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead while he stands there bleeding through a gray thermal like it’s nothing.

♱ You recognize each other instantly.

♱ “Jesus Christ,” you mutter under your breath.

♱ Frank looks just as stunned, though he hides it better. Older now. More worn around the edges. But his eyes still do that same thing when they land on you, soften before he can stop them.

♱ You’re the first one to speak. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

♱ His mouth twitches faintly. “Do you mean that in a good way or a bad way?”

♱ “I haven’t decided yet.”

♱ Frank still remembers every tiny thing about you. How you take your coffee. Which shoulder you sleep on. The way you go quiet instead of loud when you’re really upset.

♱ It makes getting over him impossible because he looks at you like no time has passed at all.

♱ The breakup wasn’t explosive. That’s what made it worse. Just two people loving each other at the wrong time while Frank spiraled deeper into violence and isolation until you couldn’t follow him anymore.

♱ He still carries guilt about it every single day.

♱ Frank absolutely becomes softer around you without realizing it. His voice drops lower. His posture loosens. He lets you stand too close. Lets you touch him without flinching.

♱ You notice immediately.

“You gonna let me patch you up now?” “You always did anyway.”

♱ There’s so much unfinished tension between you both it’s unbearable. The kind that lingers in motel rooms and late-night drives and conversations that almost become confessions before somebody changes the subject.

♱ Frank still gets jealous, though he has no right to. Some guy smiles at you too long and suddenly Frank’s jaw is tight, arms crossed over his chest like he’s trying not to start something.

♱ You call him out every time.

“You’re glaring.” “Ain’t glaring.” “Frank.” “…Maybe a little.”

♱ He keeps old things from your relationship without telling you. A photo tucked in his wallet. One of your hair ties wrapped around the gearshift of an old truck. A sweatshirt you forgot at his place years ago that still somehow survived every apartment and safehouse after.

♱ The moment you realize you’re both still in love with each other is painfully simple. You fall asleep accidentally against his shoulder during the subway ride back to yours and wake up to find he’s still sitting perfectly still so he wouldn’t disturb you.

♱ Frank’s biggest fear is hurting you again. Even after reconnecting, he keeps waiting for the moment you’ll finally realize loving him is too exhausting.

♱ But you already know what loving Frank Castle costs.

♱ And you stay anyway.

♱ The eventual reconciliation isn’t dramatic. No huge speech. No grand confession. Just Frank standing in front of you after a bad night, exhausted and honest for once.

♱ “Tried stayin’ away from you,” he admits quietly. “Didn’t take.”

♱ And because he’s still Frank, because neither of you have changed nearly as much as you pretend to, you just sigh and pull him into your arms while he holds onto you like coming home.

── okay i need jon bernthal to get off my screen before i jump through it.... i wanna sit on hi

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙...

── frank castle. ♱ headcanons. ⌖ oneshots.

♱ frank is always soft with his girl no matter what.

♱ exes to lovers.

♱ frank comes to you to get patched up.

── matt murdock. ✘ headcanons. ✞ oneshots.

coming soon...

hello queen 🤩 i have a bucky barnes account where i write for bucky, steve rogers and some stucky! this account is mainly for frank and matt (maybe dex)

my bucky account is @juniebjonesin

── xoxo 💋