#threads: blake.

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@jetaiimee)

"You’re making this sound like it’s a job interview," Blake said, letting his hands wander up Clara’s sides, feeling the curve of her waist before flattening both palms against her back and arching her toward him. "Give me a sec to remember my resume. It’s been a while since anybody’s asked," Blake continued, curling his lips just enough to count as a smirk. "I like it when people know what they want. Cuts down on the formalities, don’t you think?"

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@rosesonbreeze)

Blake hated being called babe, but it was an easy role to play, so he went along. He curled his lips into a lazy smile. "Missed you, too. What are you drinking?" He flagged the bartender with two fingers, not waiting for Amelia's answer. The bartender came over, bored and hostile, letting Blake order another round. Chelsea jersey was still hovering, his pint glass sweating on the bar, trying to make sense of the shift. Blake ignored him. "Thought you were with Lydia," he said, voice just loud enough for the jersey to hear. "She still hates me?"

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@twilightmccn)

          "because if words fixed rot, we’d all be saints by now." blake's lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it. "some people don't benefit from... emotional excavation to feel better. some of us have the necessity of being better. there's a difference."

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@amberlooms)

blake's fingers pressed harder against the wound, crimson seeping between the pale digits despite his attempts to stem the flow. he inhaled sharply, every breath stabbing through torn muscle. yet he forced his posture straight, shoulders squared against the cool brick. he recognized the simple, human logic in her offer, the attempt at a bargain. it was almost endearing in its naiveté. "and you think you can make me do anything?" he scoffed. he pushed off the wall, a sudden, jerky movement that sent a fresh wave of agony through his side, but he held himself upright, refusing to falter. "i can simply tear your throat out the moment you're within reach. wounded animals are notoriously unpredictable."

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@hellsfavor)

"i was caught up in the sorrows of a desperate man," blake remarked, watching the suitor limp away into the river of bodies, shoulders caved in defeat. he tilted his head at the femme, appraising her with new interest, weighing her wit against her bone structure. both won out. "if you'd prefer 'schnookums', i'm at your mercy," he offered, attempting levity. "but you don't seem the type to go in for pet names."

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@fcxglove)

"heart-to-heart sessions aren’t part of my schedule. can be if you're paying for it," blake was quick to respond, lips tight at the corners. he let his gaze linger on her for a long moment—appraising, almost amused. "i would have thought that was abundantly clear. unless, of course, your perception is as lacking as your understanding of social cues."

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@gckko)

          the edges of his lips were pinned in place for the cameras, his jaw relaxing only when the shutters paused for half a second. "you think i like talking to you at all?" blake muttered, eyes trained forward. "if it were up to me, i'd be drinking espresso in milan and…" he paused, his gaze sweeping over elliot, a silent assessment of his discomfort, "certainly not enduring this… forced intimacy." but the publicist had made it very clear—he needed to soften his image. make himself more 'human'. whatever that meant. elliot, with his anxious smiles and bookish reputation, was the pr fairytale: the gruff model and the quiet writer, opposites attracting and whatever bullshit they were selling. the studio loved it. the fans were frothing. blake, on the other hand, was fighting the urge to light a cigarette just for the hell of it. "just a little longer," he said after a beat, meant as reassurance as he straightened. "smile for the nice people, and then we can get out of here and go back to pretending the other doesn't exist."

[loveshard]

continued from blake's open starter (@racointeur)

blake's eyes narrowed to glacial slits as he studied the blood-drunk euphoria that remained within reddened eyes. what a messy little display of rebellion. as if they wanted to bait something feral out of him. it almost worked. even after a deep clean, the scent of the girl, all fear, cheap perfume, and the distinctive copper tang of fresh blood, was everywhere. he could feel it latching to his tongue like the taste of betrayal, though he wouldn’t call it that out loud. that would make it personal. and blake didn’t do personal. he said nothing at first, simply letting the corners of his mouth lift in a condescending smile, cigarette burning low between his fingers. the cigarette found its place between the vampire’s lips, and he took a long drag, eyes never leaving theo’s. smoke curled from his nostrils, unfurling like steam before he finally crushing it in the nearby ashtray. he let theo guide him backward, step by step, toward the bathroom, aching for a chance to rid himself of his blood-spattered clothing. "always," he finally answered, letting the faintest tremor of his fangs show. he dipped his head closer, inhaling traces of the human, barely concealing his irritation. "next time, ask my permission before you bring a snack home." it was a pointed barb, a reminder that he called the shots, or at least wanted to. he refused to be overshadowed, especially not by a prat like theo. "i'm getting bored of your silly little fits for attention," he stated with a not so gentle shove into tile wall, switching on the shower. "strip."