Jon Bernthal Imagine - Tumblr Posts

scars full of lies.

pairings. frank castle x fem!reader

about. frank is hoping to keep his vigilante life a secret, but it’s hard when reader asks questions that brings that wish to risk

warnings. lying? nothing really

ricky rocks. ma man 🤗

scars on the back of his neck.

that's it. that’s what you thought about a lot. especially when night rounded around the corner and you were having a hard time finding sleep. so, instead of counting sheep, you counted his scars by memory.

you wondered how they surfaced on his body and who made the execution to create such deep cuts on his body in hopes to hurt him. frank was a scary man. you understood that. but who was scared enough to hurt him?

or not scared at all?

you thought about frank a lot more than you’d like to admit. you knew he’d tease you and you already had a hard enough time dealing with that—it would be a field day for him if he knew what went on in your head.

“you alright?”

“yeah, i’m fine,” you smiled softly to the concern that erupted through franks voice as he looked up from the book he read. you adjusted your place next to him, sinking deeper into the couch and deeper into his side, cuing him to go ahead continue reading with the nod of your head.

but he didn’t look back down to his book like you had hoped, “what’s going through your mind right now, sweetheart?”

you smiled at the name and your cheeks began to grow warm when his hand reached and clasped the back of your neck softly, as if to pull you in closer.

fuck.

he always got you, if not with his words, then his affectionate actions.

“i don’t know, i just think, frank,” you mumbled, not wanting to finish your thought.

his brows narrowed, struck slightly confused, “yeah, well i hope so.”

“no, i mean, i think about you, frank, a lot,” you were hesitant with your words, not sure if you should speak them aloud, because the thing was, you felt it shouldn’t be that way.

you met frank on the subway station after he saved you from tripping onto the tracks before never really seeing him again until a month later at a coffeehouse—accidentally spilling coffee on him before recognition kicked in and the two of you sat down together.

it felt like talking to your father—scolding you for being so clumsy with both encounters you two had and telling you, you should really study your surroundings more. and then the cell phone thing—

“can i get you number, you know, just to thank you some other time, more properly.”

he had froze from putting his coat on, a hesitant look immediately overcoming his face causing you to cringe, wondering what had gone wrong despite everything going so smoothly for you two being strangers.

“oh, i mean you don’t have to, i just—“

“no, i just don’t really have a phone, at the moment,” he finally had his brown coat slung over himself, giving you a sympathetic smile. “i recently moved into the area, lost my cell in the process and really haven’t found time to replace it.”

what a lie, was what you thought.

“i’m not really a good with a phone in the first place,” he shrugged before pulling out a pen he had in his pocket, sitting back down. “this is my p.o. box, write me a letter sometime.”

he winked, before getting up and walking away.

but it seemed since day one, frank was never one to track, someone who didn’t want to be held down.

he didn’t get a phone until five months after you sent your first letter, but he still couldn’t keep track of the thing for the life of him.

“you want to tell me what it is you think about?” his finger tips teased the side of your face before tucking some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“i feel like… i barely know you,” you pause, feeling uneasy about your words, “i mean, i worry because i don’t know who you were before we met.”

“same person as i am now,” he smiles.

“yes, but,” you sigh, taking a step back in your head, attempting to recuperate. he studied your face with a sudden hard frown, studying the emotions that were crossing your face. you suddenly set your hand on the back of his neck, your finger tips finding one of the many scars easily and tracing it back and forth. “this. i want to know about this.”

his lips twitched upward, “my scars?”

he seemed confused as to what was so fascinating about them, making you feel dumb by the way you couldn’t help but nod eagerly.

“okay…” his tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he thought while his eyes strayed from yours. “i had a bit of rough childhood, i’d come home almost everyday to my mom screaming at me, for no reason.”

he shook his head, a look of distress coming across his face as he spoke, almost reliving that moment, “one day, i had came home a little bit later than usual for whatever reason—maybe i saw a dog, i don’t know—but it just wasn’t her day,” he tsked, his head slightly shaking, “threw a glass vase my way, shattered and sliced my neck all up. one of many, many marks,” he slid his sleeve up, brining light to the small scars that tore up his arms. “she had a short temper.”

a lie. frank was full of lies, but it was better if you didn’t know the truth. and it was good that you ate it up, because he couldn’t imagine how you’d react to the real reason half his body was full of scars and hidden wounds.

“frank, i’m so sorry,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you had practically thrown yourself to his body, a feeling of remorse overcoming you as you held him as close as you could. “you didn’t deserve that.”

even if it was true, he probably did. he deserved every little mark of pain on his body, even more so for lying to you about it.

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