ice in my veins

“There will come a time I will look in your eye, and you will pray to the God that you’ve always denied”

[julianarmstrongs]

euphoriatus‌:

                                He was annoying. For the most part. Refusing to admit the bright side, that being having someone to talk to, Kenna was counting down the days. The more time passed, the more anxious she became because she knew well, how her father’s return would only mean one thing; trouble. They both had gotten lucky in that aspect since the older man hadn’t shown up for a week, though how much luck did they have on their side? 

“You know what, you can at least try and be respectful.” 

Dripping wet hair stuck on her skin while she crossed a freezing cold hallway. Nothing had prepared Kenna for the sight she came across to the moment she stepped into the room. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes glanced over the small journal, knowing the writings it contained and an uneasy expression took over, forgetting where she stood and how she wore nearly.. nothing. “I told you not to go through my stuff. First fucking rule, Julian. Come on, give it back.” 

           “That was fucking respectful,” Julian argued, but zeal was missing--- a lick of his lips and poorly warded off, sinful smile in place as he watched her, “I could have said you sound like my mom’s cat when she’s in heat, but that would have been plain rude.”

           Though his eyes barely flitted up to acknowledge her, Julian was hyperaware of the blonde’s towel-clad frame--- or lack thereof. Blonde hair darkened in its dampened state, clung to her swan’s curve, drops of water rolling down bronze skin. The two had a complicated relationship: they drove each other nuts, worked together, and in the oddest of ways, were probably best friends. Well, in whatever way Julian could have friends, anyway. Still; no matter what they were, the way she looked was a given, distracting to any man, Julian Armstrong included, and it took a lot of his will to keep his eyes on her musings instead of her skin, “Me? Oh, just reading this pretty sad, handwritten book is all,” A lie, one with a cruel inclination, but hopefully his teasing grin softened the blow. 

            “... Fucking come here, read it to me,” He shifted away from her, so she couldn’t snap it away from him, but found his gaze settling on hers; cold, in its usual way, but there was something of more depth in there. Flickers of warmth, just for her, “I just wanna to see all the kind of shit you talk about me in here. It’s gotta be good.”

[julianarmstrongs]

              “I know you’ve got about four of ‘em, but I wouldn’t quit your day job to pursue any kind of singing career if I was you.”

               It was day lost count of Julian's stint in Kenna’s Warren bedroom--- a hole up, a hide, an overstayed welcome on the blonde’s bedroom floor, and the fiery ball of a woman hadn’t wrung out his neck, yet. It had been over a week and the heat of the boys in blue was still hot on his back, rendering his skin pale from lack of sun, his mind mad from cabin fever, and utterly helpless at the vixen’s fingertips. The same way she had always been at his.

               Now he sits on her bed--- a harsh no the male proceeded to rebuke ---ankles crossed, head sunken in pillows, hands flipping slow through what he hoped was a journal; just hoping to get a rise out of her, something, anything to keep him from going nuts. And she, his partner in crime and whose space the dealer had eaten up, had just returned from a soulful shower he was sure she hadn’t expected him to listen in on. Towel wrapped, dripping wet, and startled by the smirked coveting his mouth and the intense blue hues to match, he got his rise. But he wants more.

[julianarmstrongs]

euphoriatus:

                       It wasn’t the first time and surely it wasn’t going to be the last. This world they lived in, it was a chaotic mess, one, that neither of them would be able to survive alone. If there was something Kenna had learned so far was that trust was essential and Julian was the only one to have earned hers. Was that good? Probably not, but it was something. Better than nothing. 

“Oh God.” The blonde cried out, already regretting the whole deal. There was nothing special about her empty room, not the mattress on the floor, not the stupid drawings on the walls. Frankly, she was lucky enough o have a space to call her own, though that wasn’t for anyone to know. “What did you expect exactly? A stripper pole right in the center of the room - or like all the sugar dust we’re selling scattered around?” She mocked him, turning on her side to look at him. “Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff.” 

                            "No," he replied vaguely, still engrossed with the room she called her own, a slow saunter, one of a predatory creature adapting to his new environment present in his gait. His hands came up in surrender when he heard the venom in her voice drip behind him, the remnants of his smirk now a full blown one. "No stripper pole, no sugar dust," he turned then, his arms folding across his chest and his back resting against the adjacent wall. "It's modest. Minimal. Just like my room..." he raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing at her slightly, hoping to antagonize more out of her. "I mean, I knew you liked to spend time with me, but I didn't know you like my room enough to REMODEL after it..." A laugh parted his lips, a coy simper, it cut short when his eyes found the drawings pasted on the wall her bed rested against. "Did you do these?"

[julianarmstrongs]

euphoriatus:

                            Once again he had fucked up – she figured that much, since Julian never actually made an appearance out of nowhere. Especially when Kenna had made it clear, her house was off limits to anyone, well, unless it was a matter of life and death. “You out of your mind.” She told him, falling back onto the mattress, like that would convince him not to. The silence surrounded them and after a moment, the blonde let out a long, heavy sigh. “One night. And you’re sleeping on the floor. Bathroom’s downstairs, clean towels’ in the closet. Don’t go around the house in the morning and more importantly, don’t go through my stuff.” Kenna stated, opening one of her eyes to look over at him. “What the hell happened to you? Looks like you pissed your pants.”

                 Julian nodded toward her and didn’t say anything; no thank you, no professions of relief or gratefulness. His expression was void per usual, yet there was a hint of something in ocean eyes---- a silent comply of you got my back, I got yours. Then his gaze was gone, shifted out the window again, watching as the hue of blue and red lights and shrill sirens falter into the dark of the night, their chase now useless, and feeble.

                 “No fucking questions,” he murmured, eyes still trained out the window. An idiotic demand to make from an outsiders point of view, especially when she was willing to hide him from a certain fate for the night, but that was who they were. They didn’t ask, they didn’t tell. He turned and rose to his feet, catching his breath finally, and allowed himself a moment to look around the room. The first ounce of something that wasn’t frigid stone hit his features, and the remnants of a smirk lifted at the corners of his mouth. “----- So this is Kenna Warren’s bedroom, huh?” he started to walk around, eyeing the decor, a hand lifting to a framed picture to inspect. “.... It’s oddly nothing and everything I pictured it being.”

[julianarmstrongs]

euphoriatus:

                      It was supposed to be her day off. She was looking forward to it, with her father gone, all the hours of sleep Kenna planned on getting. Hell, anytime any plans were made, something would come up, something important. As if being curled up on the mattress of a bed she had, wasn’t enough of a sign that whatever was going on.. she wasn’t willing to deal with it, Julian’s voice became stronger and that was difficult to ignore. “It’s fucking open.” She finally shouted, sitting up slowly onto the mattress and grabbing the only pillow to cover her lap. 

                      Her obvious disdain and reluctance to get up made Julian feel nothing, no sense of being unwanted, no sense of crossing boundaries. Nothing. The confirmation that the window was unlocked did however make him move mechanically to open it, and in desperate movements, he was climbing in and dropping at the foot of her bed, scrambling to close the window behind him. “Fuck,” he cursed in relief, his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath. When he did, he finally acknowledged Kenna, swallowing toughly. “Let me stay here tonight.” It wasn’t a request, it was posed as more of an order than anything else. He always had her back, and Julian Armstrong never did anything for free. This was compensation when he needed it.

[julianarmstrongs]

@euphoriatus

                       “Kenna---” the name left his seethed tongue in a low hiss, bruised and discoloured knuckles rasping against the glass of her bedroom window. He could see her through the sheer of her white curtains; slight frame cocooned in a comforter, hair the colour of honey cascading. He knocked a little louder to grab her attention from where she lay curled on plush fabric. “Kenna, open the fuck up..” Adrenaline hammered his heart, but the rare inflection of fear piqued his tone, breathless as an arm came up to wipe sweat and blood that didn’t belong to him off his brow.