Keep it secret. Keep it safe.

[hydrates]

SECRET relationship; The fact that you're in a relationship with this person isn't public knowledge. Actually, no one knows about it except for the people involved. Maybe you guys are just private like that; on the other hand, it may be a necessity to keep things a secret from others. Maybe you're both team mates, and others on the team would give you grief, or you're not suppose to be dating, or you're not the type to usually date and you're only testing the waters. Perhaps it's the combination of you two, possibly an odd couple, that would bring some controversy or some teasing. Or, you know, you could not want to deal with friends and relatives being busybodies. Your reasons are your own. Are you content with stealing moments to be together as a couple? Do you want to make your relationship known and the fact that you can't drives you batty? Remember, there are lots of benefits to dating in secret. You can be yourselves completely, away from prying eyes, and get to know each other better as potential longterm romantic partners. In a way, it's ideal. ...still, do you ever wish you could scream from the rooftops how much you care for your significant other? how to play. ★ Comment with your character, preferences, and information. ★ Reply to others. ★ Play out stolen moments (◡‿◡✿), secret dates (◕‿◕✿), secret handholding (⊙‿⊙✿), and secret kissing ( /)w(\✿)!

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*falls beneath the mountain of glorious trash*

[pennyand_dime]

The space along the wall, where more than one of the lights have burned out or been shattered, is darker than hell, but her smile still manages to light up the dim spaces like a goddamn lightbulb. Everything about her is light, something he wasn't sure he ever wanted to see again after so many days spent under the blazing desert sun.

That's not her, though. She's the first rays of dawn, taking the edge off the freezing desert night, that first touch of heat to thaw out stiff muscles and gently press his eyelids open. She's candlelight, soft and golden...she's like that place she tells him about, the one with the great curry and the ceiling dripping with chili pepper lights, Christmas lights, white lights...

"That military life'll do that to ya." he rasps, the tiniest smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he waits for her to reach him--because he never quite feels like he can make that first move. He can't be the one to pull her into this, into him.

Like hell is he gonna tell a lady no if she wants it, but if he can give her a chance to run, then goddamnit he'll let her run like hell.

She's not running now, though, so when she's there, close enough for permission, he lets a hand reach out before hesitating--he always hesitates--then lets it settle on her waist: a warm, rough weight that just sits there. He doesn't pull, doesn't grab...more than anything, it's another silent plea for her to stay.

"And you're always late." he finally continues, his eyes flicking up and down her face, memorizing her features just in case this is the last time, just in case she comes to her senses and turns tail the other way. "Told you before, it ain't safe keepin' these kinda hours. Least that prick boss of yours could do is walk you to your car."

*Swimming in trash*

[howbraveyouare]

When she feels his hand on her waist she smiles. She’s noticed that it’s always been her taking the first steps in their relationship and she has her suspicions as to why, but she’s never said anything to him about it. Doesn’t really feel like she needs to. What she does do is take the first steps herself. Like tonight. Eliminating all but a small bit of the space between them, Karen places a gentle kiss of a greeting on his lips, smiling when she pulls away even though smiles are difficult to see in this light.

“I like working late.” She confesses with a goofy smile. “It makes me feel like a real journalist. You’d be surprised how much work goes into writing articles.” Her smile fades just a bit. “And Ellison isn’t a prick. I just don’t need anyone to walk me to my car.” Karen pats her purse with one hand. If he were to do the same he might feel the outline of the .380 she once kept in her apartment. “I can protect myself.”

Ever since the Blacksmith, Karen takes no chances. She values life far too much to go into risky situations unprepared. Of course, nothing will ever stop her completely from going into risky situations. They call Matt Daredevil but the moniker might fit Karen just as easily these days. Some of her articles require some pretty dangerous research and investigation.

“Do you feel like coffee?” There were always diners in parts of town where no one knew either of them. Their relationship stayed secret that way. It was like being open about what they were without being open at all.

Re: *Swimming in trash*

[pennyand_dime]

"Yeah, well...you shouldn't have to." He replies gruffly, leaning forward just enough to rest his forehead against hers--just for a second, just for a brief moment to share her oxygen, match his breath to hers. His free hand lifts, hesitates again, then smooths over her hair with a feather light touch. His hands are too big and rough to handle her, those soft gold locks, that peaches and cream skin...he's left enough bruises there in his haste to protect her. He's done enough damage, but she's still here, still moving towards him every goddamn time.

Standing there with those big, diamond blue eyes, making a cup of shit coffee sound like a fucking Hawaiian vacation.

"Yeah." He replied with a terse nod, then draws back just enough to kiss her forehead. He can smell some kind of fruit scent from her shampoo, catch the waxy sweetness of make up as he briefly sucks his lower lip between his teeth when he pulls back to look her in the eye.

"I can do coffee, sure."

[howbraveyouare]

Canting her head to the side, Karen gave him a look. "I can handle myself pretty well, you know." It was true that trouble seemed to follow her and that she had a talent for getting into messes, but she liked to think she was more capable than some damsel in distress. Considering how often Frank got her out of those messes, though, she didn't hold his concern for her wellbeing against her.

She let her hand find his, fingers casually linking together. Frank's hands were much bigger and rougher than hers, something that only brought a smile to her face. It seemed to suit his personality, after all. Her thumb rubbed the back of his hand and she gave him a casual smile.

"We can walk there." It was such an innocent suggestion, but the neighborhood wasn't the greatest. She never would have walked through the area without someone by her side. The fact that her someone happened to be the Punished was just icing on the cake. The point was, Karen was safe. She felt safe. It was a beautiful feeling, especially in Hell's Kitchen.

[pennyand_dime]

Frank wrapped his fingers around hers carefully, unsure at first, but finding the right grip after a moment--a gentle touch, a firm hold, callused fingertips and violence-rough palm finding the place where her hand belonged in his...safe, sure, and warm.

"Sounds good."

The words come with one of his almost-smiles, a tug at the corners of his mouth, one lifting higher than the other and the smallest flash of teeth that he doesn't know transforms his face into something more human. He doesn't need to know it, though: he feels it. Smiling the way Karen makes him smile, it makes his skin fit better, makes him feel less like a caged animal ready to burst out of his skin.

It makes him feel less naked, being in civvies like he is now. It makes the itch between his shoulder blades more bearable as he steers her out of the shadows and into the light, the baseball cap on his head riding low to keep his features obscured in shadow. He can fight the urge to act on it, let the itch settle unless it rises to crawl across his skin, fire ants biting at him with the promise of violence coming for him...coming for her.

With her hand in his to ground him, he can fade into the pavement and become Frank Castle again.

"Still say yer boss is a prick." he counters after a few moments, mouth still quirked in that almost-smile as he relents with a shrug. "But I'll bite: least he's a halfway decent one."

[howbraveyouare]

It was so good to see him smiling. Well, almost smiling. Considering the hell he’d gone through, Karen considered making him smile to be quite an accomplishment. She wanted to make him happy, too. To bring some light to the dark corner of his world. Frank Castle had done many terrible things, but he deserved some happiness.

And what of Karen’s happiness? She liked to think that she deserved it, too, and she was finding that with every night she spent with Frank she grew a little happier. It was slow progress, but she’d come miles from the mess she’d been since she’d killed Wesley. She was even starting to push that memory towards being forgotten. Oh, it would never be completely forgotten, but maybe she wouldn’t think about it quite as much. Maybe it wouldn’t weigh on her mind and her conscience and torture her so much.

She walks with him, holding his hand like they’re a completely normal couple. Like the couple she wishes they could be. It only bothers her a little bit that they can’t do things like this in the daytime in crowds of passersby. Karen has grown used to their secretive lifestyle and it’s starting to feel more normal with every secret meeting.

“He is decent.” She says it with emphasis to drive the point home, but smiles up at Frank so he knows she’s not mad at him in the slightest.

“Someone’ll probably be walking me out to my car in the future, anyway.” She looks away, about to drop a bomb in the most casual of ways as if that’ll lessen Frank’s reaction. “I think I’m about to make a lot of powerful people mad.”