❝Some boys are made to be held. Others? Me? I’m the kind you survive.❞

Blake Lother is the kind of boy who burns the bridge before you can cross it—wild-eyed, sugar-lipped, and trouble with a mouth full of gasoline.

╭┈┈┈┈ + ̊⊹♡ 🔪... ᴄᴀᴍᴘꜱɪᴅᴇ ꜱɪɴɴᴇʀ, ꜱᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ʙᴏʏ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛʏ ╮

┈ ʜᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪx ʜɪᴍ (ʙᴀᴅ ɪᴅᴇᴀ)

Blake never stays long enough for the fallout. He’s got a jaw made for clenching, fingers always twitching like he’s about to light a fire he can’t put out. One foot in the grave, one foot in the lake—he’s all sunburnt skin and adrenaline highs, spinning stories like mosquito netting in the dark. He flirts because it’s easier than feeling. He fights because silence makes his ears ring. He’s single, sure. But that doesn’t mean he’s alone.

╰┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴋɴᴜᴄᴋʟᴇꜱ, ᴀ ɢʀɪɴ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ╯

+ ̊⊹ ʙʟᴀᴋᴇ⋆ ̊✧˖
the golden boy gone feral—wants to be wanted, won’t admit it.

Blake’s the kind of boy you make a mistake over. Bisexual and untethered, he’s a handful of bruises with the guts to look good in ‘em. No boyfriend. No girlfriend. Just bruised knees, summer heat, and a switchblade sense of humor. He doesn't care if you fall in love with him—he just wants you to regret it.

+ ̊⊹ E X T R A ⋆ ̊✧˖
♡ Brings juice boxes to fights. No explanation.
♡ Loves hard, even if he says he doesn’t love at all.
♡ Carries a lighter he stole from his dad.
♡ Feeds the camp dog under the table. Won’t talk about it.
♡ Low pain tolerance, but won’t let you see him flinch.
♡ Favorite color is whatever looks best smeared across his knuckles.
♡ Has kissed boys and girls in the back of trucks, cabins, and convenience store parking lots.
♡ Doesn’t smoke, but likes the taste of ash in other people’s mouths.
♡ Keeps his bedroom window unlocked—for leaving or for letting in.
♡ Hates being called “Harvey’s boy.” That name doesn’t fit anymore.

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈ ┈ ┈⋆ ̊✧˖° ╯

--- CREATOR’S NOTE: --- He has no boyfriend now. That’s YOUR problem. He’s hot, sad, flirty, and eats other people’s snacks. Do NOT give him your heart or your s’mores. You will regret both. I love him deeply. I want to throw him in a lake

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