#beardthal is the bernthal
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Fantasizing about Shane if he'd survived S2, with no way to shave his face anymore since the farm is gone, and running around with his curls back and a thick beard added to them 🤤
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How to sit like Jon Bernthal: 1. Sit down like you have a big dick.
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Behind the Red in My Eyes
Mikey Berzatto x Reader
Summary: Mikey comes home, yet again, exhausted after a long shift at The Beef. You offer him some encouraging words and his favorite touch to unwind.
Warnings: cursing
Author's Note: This is my first entry for @bernthirst-events's Beardthal Bash! I had this idea for a while, but I ended up writing way more plot than was needed oops! I still hope there was enough mention of the beard to count!
Word Count: 2.9k+
Mikey Berzatto took pride in his work. It may not be the most glamorous job, but he put countless hours into the family restaurant that he tries so hard to keep afloat. It’s one of your favorite things about him—how much heart he puts into everything he does.
The only downside is how often you’re stuck missing him while the apartment grows too quiet as the hours pass. You have the schedule of The Beef’s hours ingrained in your mind, tacking on the extra time it takes to close up at night. But all the counting does little to stop the frequent checking of the clock on your phone’s lockscreen.
You were thankful when he worked up the deal with Carmy to split some of the necessary management time at the sandwich shop—if you could call it management time. It would be more truthful to call it “babysitting”, taking into consideration the hotheadedness of the staff. And let's be honest, leaving the restaurant in the hands of Richie Jerimovich? Absolutely not.
But, as much as the Berzatto brothers meant well, this plan didn’t last. It worked for a while, Mikey taking the mornings and helping with opening the store so that around the time that the menu changed, Carmy could come in and work until close. They figured it would be the best way to not overwork themselves but still put a healthy amount of time into their family business.
And then one day it was too busy for Mike to come home. Since then, there hasn’t really been a fix to the original plan. You miss him a lot and definitely wish you could see him more, but you feel so much pride swelling in your chest each time you think of how hard he works for that little brick building. No amount of missing him could outweigh that feeling—or how your face feels as if it might split in two when you sneak into the restaurant and see how happy he is to be there.
Nine times out of ten, you walk in and see his smile brightening the whole room as his infectious laugh fills the air. His eyes would be squinted into thin lines as his head falls back and he clutches his chest for a breath. He always cared about the people and wanted everyone to feel welcome there no matter their background or history. You loved seeing him like this and kept these memories at the front of your mind whenever it got harder to be patient on the long nights alone.
Your phone is in your hand before you can even register it. A habit I need to break, you remind yourself, but your screen shows the time anyway. Quarter after midnight. You place the phone down on the coffee table with a sigh, exchanging it for the book that your friend swore you had to read.
Tucking your finger between the pages and your bookmark, you open up the book and scan the printed words until you can jog your memory of the last thing you read. Once you find your place, you tuck your legs to your chest and lazily tug the blanket down from the back of the couch to cover yourself. It doesn’t take long before your surroundings begin to fade and the words paint a picture in your mind.
You look up from your book at the sound of keys jingling inside the metal deadbolt on your apartment door. What time is it? A second later the door is opening and there stands Mikey. He sighs as he holds onto the doorframe before pressing the toes of one foot to the heel of the other, taking his shoes off before bending down to place them beside the entrance.
When he stands back up you finally get a good look at him in the lamplight. His shoulders are slouched, his whole body a portrait of exhaustion. He’s rubbing his knuckles sleepily at his eyes, setting the keys down on the small table beside him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you call to him as his footsteps gently sound out on the wooden floors. He finally glances over to the couch once he notices you and the smile that stretches over his face is tired, yet genuine.
“Hey, baby,” he whispers back to you. His voice is hoarse, mostly likely due to all the yelling in the chaotic kitchen he’s spent the whole day inside of. It’s almost as if his words are caught in his chest, sounding out deep and warm when he speaks. He makes his way to the couch, leaning over the back of it, and placing a quick peck of his lips on your forehead.
As soon as you feel it, he’s gone, making his way to the kitchen in the next room over. You can immediately tell something is off; Mikey gets quiet after a long day of being the loudest guy in the room, but he’s not usually reserved in his affection towards you.
The blanket you were wrapped up in slowly slides down your chest and onto your lap as you sit up against the arm of the couch. You question whether you should push it, but something in your gut wouldn’t leave it be.
“Mikey? You okay?” you call out towards the kitchen. The sound of him closing cupboards echoes through the space next. He makes his way to the fridge, opening it before leaning inside and scanning the leftovers from the meals you make while he’s out.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds monotonously, pulling away with a glass container in his hand. The slightly blue lighting shines across his face, illuminating his features in a cold hue. It looks almost intentional, as if to reflect his mood. “What is this?”
“Baked ziti from last night. I’m here for you, Bear, you know that right?” You don’t miss a beat, purposefully choosing not to fall for his distraction of mentioning the food. You watch as he pauses for a moment, setting the food down on the counter and closing the fridge before walking back towards you. You never want to push him or demand he open up to you, but you also want him to know he can lean on you if need be.
A heavy sigh leaves him as he sinks down onto the cushion beside you, one arm resting along the length of the couch, the other propping his head up in his palm. You can see all the evidence of his tiring day of work now that he’s closer to you: the dark grease stains along the bottom of his blue shirt, the marks under his eyes indicating he didn’t sleep enough, the new bandage wrapped around his thumb. All signs point to a draining, most likely not rewarding, day.
Gently reaching out for his wrist, you pull his larger hand into yours. “What happened here?” He moves with you, turning his palm face up as you let your index finger gently trace over his skin. The bandage is uneven, and you can see the faint maroon marking under the tan color.
“Was a uh,” he begins, sighing as he rubs at his eyes with the knuckles of his free hand. “Was an accident. Cousin called me while I was choppin’ onions and, well,” he gestures to his injured thumb. You feel your features change as he speaks, the words painting a clear picture in your head of him in the kitchen as he gets hurt.
“I’m so sorry, Mikey,” you whisper in the small space between the two of you. Your own fingers drag down the inside of his arm, trailing over scars from accidental fryer burns and playing rough outside with Carmy when he was younger. All the little markings on his skin have little stories behind them, and you cherish the boisterous laughter that comes from him when he tells the tales.
“S’alright, baby, happens all the time,” he attempts to reassure you. The tone surrounding his words falls flat and leaves you with the same weariness in your mind. Glancing up at his face, you see the tired lines under his eyes and the way he stares out at nothing while his mind wanders.
Curling your fingers around him tighter, you bring his hand up to your face and place a gentle kiss right under the bandage. It takes him another moment to react due to the other thoughts trailing around in his mind. When he finally glances over, his eyes are fixed on your lips pressing against him, the small peck sending a wave of warmth through him. You continue staring up at him from under your eyelashes; the sigh that leaves him makes his chest deflate when his gaze locks with yours.
“Thank you,” he murmurs softly, a sad smile on his face.
“Is there anything else I can do to help?” you ask, wanting to try and improve his mood. He twists his back and adjusts himself against the couch.
“Nah, nah, baby, it’s okay. It’ll heal up,” he answers dismissively. It’s clear he didn’t pick up on the other meaning of your question, so you try wording it another way.
“No I didn’t mean the cut, Mikey.” His eyebrows pull together, confusion painted all over his features. “I can see how tired you are,” you continue, watching him sigh again and prepare to defend himself. “I just want to take some of the weight off your shoulders, is all. I’m not gonna say to cut your hours back, I know you can’t do that but…” you find your words trailing off when he reaches up to drag his palm down his face.
“You have to at least take care of yourself,” you whisper the final words as his hand drops to his lap. There’s a silence that lingers over the room and you’re worried you’ve overstepped in suggesting the restaurant being the source of a good portion of his stress.
“You’re right,” he speaks up, and you feel the tension leaving your body almost instantly. “You’re right, I just don’t… think about it?” his tone rises at the end, twisting the sentence into more of a question. His eyes find yours again and you give him a slight nod, wordlessly encouraging him to continue.
“It just… It’s always been the restaurant first, y’know? Like if that goes under then I’ve got nothing left. And then all the things everybody says about me are true.” He finishes the last sentences with an exasperated breath. Your heart sinks at his words, especially after spending one too many family dinners at his mother’s house and hearing how they treat him and his impulsivity. You want to defend him, but choose not to interrupt his venting.
“And nobody in my family knows how to slow down. I mean, shit, look at Carm,” he chuckles dryly as he shakes his head. “Nearly fuckin’ killed himself out in New York. Mom doesn’t have her head screwed on straight, doesn’t know what’s going on half the fuckin’ time. It just—.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his head hanging low in his hands.
There’s a quick sniffle before he’s raking his fingers through his hair roughly. He sits up and stares down at his fingers, anxiously picking at the skin around his nails. Every fiber in your being screams to reach out to him and comfort him, and this time you listen to your instincts.
“Mikey,” you start, gently placing your hand on his forearm and pulling him towards you. His body falls and you feel his weight instantly pressing into your shoulder. Slumped against you like this, his body heat instantly warms up your side and you melt in turn.
“I know you might not know how to take those breaks, but we can work through it together,” you attempt to calm him. “It might not be easy at first but we can just take it one day at a time, yeah?” You glance down at your shoulder to see him staring up at you with half closed eyes. He slowly blinks before finally registering that you asked him a question.
“I like that plan,” he says eventually. His lips part as a yawn takes over and you smile as his eyes scrunch up while his jaw drops open.
“Oh, poor baby…” you chuckle under your breath. His face rests back in his natural position, but his eyes remain shut. He looks so peaceful like this that it makes your heart warm. Admittedly, it’s been too long since you’ve seen him truly relaxed like this. The last few times must’ve been when you were waking up in the night and happened to catch him asleep.
Stolen glances in the middle of the night aren’t enough, you decide. Adjusting your body on the couch, you angle yourself so your back is against the arm of the couch and your legs extend down the length of the cushions. You pull his body between your legs, guiding his head down to rest on your chest.
“You know none of that shit they say is true… right?” you ask softly as you let your fingers trail down his neck and smoothe down his back. He may not look like it, but Mike is one of the biggest suckers for physical touch—specifically cuddling.
He only hums in response, but still you continue. “The restaurant wasn’t a bad idea, baby. I think it’s sweet you kept something in the family name.” You drag your nails down his broad back softly and feel him sigh deeply, the leftover tension finally leaving his body.
“‘M pretty sure you’re the only one who thinks that,” he mumbles out, not bothering to lift his head from you.
“I swear to god the next time Uncle Lee, or whoever, opens their god damn mouth I’m gonna be the one to throw a fork.” The next thing you feel is Mikey’s laughter shaking you, his rumbly chuckle sounding out in the quiet room. You let yourself smile at the pleasant sound, pressing your fingers into the junction where his neck meets his shoulders. With each push of your fingertips, you try to get rid of those pesky knots of stress that his body is unconsciously clinging on to.
“Seriously though,” you start again, wrapping your arms around his head this time, “we’ll figure it all out. I just want you to rest for now.” You tilt your head down and press your lips to the top of his head. You shut your eyes and try to focus on this moment: the feeling of his body weighing on your torso, his hot breath gently fanning over your arm, his scent relaxing you with each inhale you take.
You let your fingers wander, scratching your nails around his scalp under his hair. There’s a raspy groan that leaves him next and the sound has butterflies suddenly coming to life in your stomach. A giggle slips out from between your lips as you ask, “Feels that good?”
Something bumps the side of your palm as you continue to play with his hair and you reach for it blindly. You try your hardest not to let disappointment wash over you as you stare at the cigarette between your fingers.
“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore, Mikey bear,” you speak in a whisper. A little less than a week ago, Mike decided to stop smoking and using drugs. You knew he could do it but you also knew how big of a step he was taking, so you tried giving as much support as you could offer. He tilts his head up at your voice and looks at you with confusedly. He glances down at the tightly rolled paper in your grasp before shaking his head gently.
“That’s from this morning, baby. Cousin offered it when he clocked in and I didn’t want to say no and have him asking a bunch of fuckin’ questions,” he explains exasperatedly. “But no, I-I didn’t smoke today.” His words are bathed with sincerity even through the tired rasp of his tone.
Your face lights up instantly, pride swelling in your chest once you realize that he kept his promise to you—his promise to himself. You can’t even imagine how difficult it must be to cut everything out like that, but you know he’s going to feel better in the long run because of it.
“I’m so, so proud of you,” you whisper as your fingers brush down his sideburns and begin to smooth out over his beard. “You’re doing so much and I see it.” You worry your words fall flat, but you also know how sometimes all you want is for someone to say that they notice the work you’re doing.
“Thank you.” You believe for a second that you imagined the words due to the barely audible breath that surrounds them. He reaches up to hold your wrist before turning his head to kiss the back of your hand. Sweet moments like this make your heart melt for him and how gentle he can be. There’s not much else to say so the both of you sit in silence, comforted by the presence of the other.
Your nails drag along the short hair that decorates his jaw and you watch his eyes flutter close for the last time. As you wrap your other arm across his chest and pull him closer, you smile at the sound of his soft snores filling the air. The ends of his facial hair tickle your fingertips but you continue gently scratching, wanting to give him a comforting touch to fall into an even deeper sleep.
“Rest up, baby boy,” you whisper as you kiss his head one final time.
#mikey berzatto#mikey berzatto x reader#the bear fanfiction#jon bernthal fanfiction#BeardthalBash#beardthal bash 2023#chelsea writes
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Compilation Post
ART
– Jon's Portrait by @lucy-sky
FANFIC
– Lost & Found (Frank Castle) by @itwasthereaminuteago – Behind the red in my eyes (Michael Berzatto) by @chelseasdagger – Growing Older (Frank Castle) by @chellestrash – Mountain Lion (Matt Rayburn) by @darlingshane – The starts we lay under (Sam Rossi) by @chellestrash – Naked (Frank Castle) by @itwasthereaminuteago – Habits to break (Frank Castle) by @chellestrash – You tell me you hate me [Yeah, I bet you do] (Shane Walsh) by @anna-hawk – Work-life balance (Matt Rayburn) by @chellestrash – Off Duty (Ethan Sawyer) by @chellestrash – First, Last & Only (Frank Castle) by @darlingshane – Unexpected Snow (Frank Castle) by @joybabyjune
GIFSETS
– JB's Bearded Characters by @darlingshane – Jon stroking his beard by @darlingshane – Frank Castle by @kwistowee – Matt Rayburn by @darlingshane – Matt & Natalie by @darlingshane – Frank Castle (#bookworm) by @kwistowee – Frank Castle (#thicc) by @kwistowee – Frank Castle by @chelseasdagger – Griff by @darlingshane – The Escape by @darlingshane – The Escape by @kwistowee – R.I.P Hallucination Shane by @kwistowee – The Escape (II) by @darlingshane – Sweet Virginia by @lucy-sky – Pilgrimage by @kwistowee – Hipster Frank by @lucy-sky – Baby Driver by @kwistowee – Frank Castle by @darlingshane
VIDEOS
– The Mute by @lucy-sky – Big Guns by @darlingshane
✨ Thank you so much for participating! See you in the next one!! ✨
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Okay, attempt #2. If it still not gonna show up in the tags, then f u c k it >_<
This is supposed to be my first entry for Beardthal Bash.
It really took me a while to make this one, but in the end I think it turned out not too bad 👉👈 The song is not quite fitting in terms of lyrics, but I like its energy.
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Movie: Pilgrimage (2017)
Character: The Mute (Jon Bernthal)
Song: Ride On by Cruachan
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those are some big fucking guns.
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Photo
i love.
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Jon Bernthal at Emerald City Comic Con on 2016
#jon bernthal#emerald city comic con#jonbernthaledit#darlingedits#love his hands and rings#he looks so pretty here#beardthal bash is not over in this house#cause i made a bunch of gifsets i didnt have time to post#this one was so far down in my drafts that i forgot i made it
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JON BERNTHAL as FRANK CASTLE
Season 1, Episode 2: Two Dead Men
#chelsea attempts to make gifs after months#i know the coloring sucks shhhh just look at the beard i promise nothing else will matter#frank castle#jon bernthal#the punisher#frankcastleedit#jonbernthaledit#marveledit#beardthal bash 2023#BeardthalBash#fun fact! any time someone says “frank castle” this is the version of him that comes to my head#this is my frankie down to the outfit n everything#*mygifs
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Beardthal at Fan Expo Dallas on June 2023
#jon bernthal#fan expo dallas#jonbernthaledit#photo edits#beardthal#darlingedits#this is a before/after meme...#first is me before napping#second is me after napping
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BEARDTHAL BASH 2023
Hello fellow Bernthirsters!
After starting the year with a bang of gorgeous Jontent, we are finally back with a brand-new event.
We are making it extra special, since the “main character” of this event will be Jon’s infamous Beard (yes, it deserves a capital B). There won’t be a theme a day this time. The only rule will be that whatever you create MUST include the Beard. Shave it off? Grow it longer? Pull on it? Burn from it? Everything is up to YOU!
Since we didn’t do anything last September, we chose to have this event around his birthday month to celebrate the man we all love and thirst over.
To help with inspiration, we included a list of prompts below.
Ready? Set… Thirst!
SUGGESTED PROMPTS: Beard Burn, Stubble, Grooming, Beard & Curls, Trimming, Petting the beard, Beard products, Not a hipster, Lumberjack, On the lam, New Identity, Beard Contest, Beard Challenge, Prickling hairs, Flowery beard, Tangled, Barbershop, Shaving accident, Cozy, Scruffy, Fluffy, Bushy, Goatee, Grey Hairs…
BEARDED CHARACTERS: Frank Castle, Sam Rossi, Griff, The Mute, Swaino, Michael Berzatto. (You don't have to stick to these, you can easily give Shane a beard if you want.)
Deadline: September 18 - September 24.
Tumblr Tag: BeardthalBash
AO3 Collection: BeardthalBash2023
POSTING GUIDELINES
#jon bernthal#the punisher#the walking dead#the bear fx#the bear#daredevil#frank castle#shane walsh#sweet virginia#sam rossi#pilgrimage#mod post#beardthal bash 2023#info post
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Petition to get Jon Bernthal to grow out his curls and beard again!
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Thoughts?!
#Jon Bernthal#beardthal is the best bernthal#poll#it's shitpost time#I take beards very seriously 😏#hope I didn't forget a major character hahaha
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Jon Bernthal as Matt in WIND RIVER (2017) for ✨BEARDTHAL BASH✨
#wind river#jon bernthal#beardthalbash#matt rayburn#kwistowee#userlyudmidla#stephibee#userninz#userlolo#userthing#filmgifs#cinematv#dilfgifs#cinemapix#dilfsource#mediagifs#motionpicturesource#dailyflicks#filmedit#darlingedits
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Jon Bernthal & Kelsey Asbille in WIND RIVER (2017) for ✨BEARDTHAL BASH✨
#wind river#jon bernthal#kelsey asbille#filmedit#filmgifs#kwistowee#userlyudmila#userninz#cinematv#cinemapix#dailyflicks#romancegifs#mediagifs#userthing#usersource#taylor sheridan#darlingedits#beardthalbash
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