billionaire boys club

Bradley Uppercrust III heir to the Uppercrust fortune Pride U Class of 2013 Winner

[calliope-hesiod]

Pet’s relationships as MITSKI SONGS

[literalirredeemablepos]

BONUS ROUND 

Crumpet : I Don’t Smoke

So if you need to be mean Be mean to me I can take it and put it inside of me If your hands need to break More than trinkets in your room You can lean on my arm As you break my heart

[literalirredeemablepos]

BRADLEY && HENRY 

These violent delights have violent ends And in their triumph die, like fire and powder Which, as they kiss, consume

( @henrycharming )

[poees-deactivated20230305]

Ronan held out his hand; Adam took it. Ronan hauled him up, his mind all palm against palm, thumb crossed over thumb, fingers pressed into wrist bone – and then Adam was facing him and he released his hand. The ocean burned.

[redbelles]

All the redemption I can offer—

[memewhore]

[zackisontumblr]

damn i’m good

[lily-colson]

#endgame

[magicaurum]

[literalirredeemablepos]

The Long Goodbye || Crumpet

In which Bradley and Henry say goodbye one last time...

@henrycharming

[tw: drug mention, alcohol mention, not a sexual assault mention but they both know what happened so it’s in the air, bradley being a generally toxic person to be around] 

BRADLEY:

In a way, Bradley had known this was coming.

Tick-tick-tick, went the clock in the back of his mind. Bradley’s time here was limited — here being Swynlake, here being Earth. Bradley saw through it all; that was his downfall. He knew he was better than all these pathetic souls. He saw the loopholes, saw that there was a way out of the rules that society had carved out. He didn’t need rules — didn’t need emotions, didn’t need moralistic standards or limitations.

That was his greatness.

That was his downfall.

He took a drag of his cigarette, slamming the brakes of his car right in front of Henry’s place, flicking the ash out the window.

One last night.

It was the least his father could do for him — it was the most his father could do for him — because Swynlake was a tiny fucking town with a small fucking jail, and this county was too ill-equipped to send just one person to the prison at a time, so his father bought him some time. One more night till all the papers across Wiltshire were processed and then he’d be on a bloody bus first thing tomorrow.

Trapped somewhere with white, white walls and nothing, nothing, nothing.

(Bradley had one fear.)

He’d messaged Henry earlier, a standard message that he’d sent millions of times at this point: Showing up in five, be ready.

He didn’t know if Henry would be there.

(Bradley had two fears.)

He glanced up at the entryway of the Charming mansion, sliding his sunglasses down his nose, taking another drag of his cigarette, and waiting for something that might not happen. 

HENRY:

To say that Henry was pissed at Bradley would be a gross understatement. He was livid, at the very least. What Bradley had done was inexcusable. Awful. Horrendous. A betrayal of the worst sort. He’d violated Alana in so many ways and no one who did that deserved to be roaming free. That person deserved to be in jail for a very long time. 

Bradley was that person. 

Henry was the person who had let him out. 

Henry was a terrible person too, and he hated himself probably more than he hated Bradley. He hated himself for allowing Bradley to get under his skin. He hated himself for letting Bradley talk him into bailing him out of jail. He hated himself for still loving Bradley. There was a very sick and twisted part of him that wished he could take Bradley’s place so that Bradley could continue to live his fucked up life. 

He needed to burn that part of himself into ash. 

That was why, when Bradley texted him, Henry knew he couldn’t say no. He had to see Bradley. He had to say goodbye to him. 

When the car pulled up in his drive, Henry shrugged his jacket onto his shoulders and walked out of his front door, not bothering to look up into the bright headlights. He didn’t need to. He knew who it was. He’d done this so many times he could find his way to Bradley’s car blindfolded if he needed to. 

Henry opened the car door and took a breath, letting the familiar smell of leather seats and cigarette smoke fill his lungs, before he slid into the seat without saying a word. He shut the door and the thud filled the silent space between them. Henry didn’t say a word. 

BRADLEY:

Henry was being prissy. Henry wasn’t talking.

But still, Henry had gotten in the car. The door had shut loudly, but Henry had gotten in the car.

“Extra smokes in the glove compartment if you want,” said Bradley, revving the car into gear. He didn’t wait for an answer, didn’t need to wait for an answer, and backed expertly out of  the driveway, pulling the car right into the road that ran through the Woods.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew exactly where he wanted to go. Somewhere far away. Somewhere high up. Somewhere where he could look at the pitiful pathetic town that Swynlake was and laugh at it as he chucked something onto the ground and fell to his knees because his time was up.

The sun was setting, a brilliant and violent orange that glinted furiously in Bradley’s sunglasses. As he pulled onto one of the isolated country roads, Bradley shifted into the next gear and the car’s engine purred as it thrust forward.

He rolled down the window a second to toss his cigarette out, then reached on his dash for another.

“Give me a light, love, will you?” he asked Henry. “One small flick of a lighter for your doomed friend here.”

HENRY:

All the tears he’d cried over the past week should have been enough to hollow him out. He should have been shrivelled and emotionless--unable to do so much as smile--but here he was with glistening eyes and anger deep in his heart. 

Bradley shouldn’t be doomed. He should’ve been smarter than that--he /was/ smarter than that. On some level, Henry thought that perhaps Bradley had done this on purpose. He always complained about how boring Swynlake was and how it wasn’t big enough to hold him and maybe this was how he’d chosen to get out. Jail was his next big adventure and he was leaving Henry behind to chase it. 

Henry grabbed the lighter and sparked it to life, holding it out without looking at his friend. Bradley leaned forward and Henry felt his breath on his wrist and shivered. He wanted to jerk his hand back, but he held it there just long enough for Bradley to light his cigarette and then dropped the lighter into the cup holder at the front. 

He sat in tense silence for a few more minutes, tears silently kissing at his cheeks, before he finally spoke. “Where are you taking me?”

BRADLEY:

He didn’t answer at first, just took a long drag from his cigarette, holding the smoke in for perhaps a bit too long, till it burned and he coughed it out the window. Bradley didn’t want to look at Henry right now. Henry was crying. Bradley didn’t like it when Henry cried. 

This time it was his fault.

The thought came unexpectedly. It roared in Bradley’s brain, a virus that his body wanted to reject. This was wrong. He shouldn’t be thinking about guilt and weakness — this was his last goddamn day of freedom.

His last day with Henry.

“Thought I’d drive up to the ol’ lookout,” said Bradley, trying to be casual, as if this were just another one of their adventures. As if he were not about to be locked up in a little tiny room away from everything for the foreseeable future.

(It was only eight years. It could be shorter if he behaved. It could be shorter if his dad paid.)

(He didn’t know if he’d make it. There was nothing in prison. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Bradley always needed something, something, something.)

“Up on the hill, where we used to go when I was learnin’ to drive, remember?”

Bradley had started taking his father’s cars out for spins when he was just thirteen and the two of them would sneak off. This was before Bradley started to drink and to crave a different type of rush, back when the thrill of the open wind through his hair and Henry at his side had been enough.

“Just one last look, yeah?”

He turned the car ‘round a corner, a sharp curve, and started up the hill that overlooked town. 

HENRY:

The car roared as Bradley pressed his foot on the gas to speed up the hill. 

The overlook was part of a better time and Henry realized that he’d give just about anything to return to that time. When Bradley was Bradley and Henry was Henry and none of the other stuff had gotten in the way yet. No girls. No drugs. No parties and no trouble. They were kids back then and everything had been good. 

Now everything was shit. 

Henry choked on a sob and tried to tuck it away, hoping that Bradley didn’t notice. 

One last look. 

They’d barely just slowed to a stop when Henry threw the door open and got out of the car. He needed the fresh air like he never had before. His eyes swept over the sleeping town and his heart ached. For a moment, he could almost pretend they were thirteen again and Bradley would walk up behind him and take his hand and they’d sit there and watch the lingering lights go out one by one. They’d be safe and happy. 

Almost.

Now, when Bradley’s shoes crunched on the gravel, Henry flinched. He was just so angry and so scared. 

Henry Charming didn’t know who he was without Bradley Uppercrust and that scared the shit out of him.

BRADLEY:

Bradley almost scoffed when Henry threw himself out of the car. But he didn’t. He sat in the car for a second longer, watching his friend through the window, the smoke from his cigarette briefly crowding his view. 

It wasn’t any different from how it would be tomorrow, thought Bradley briefly, Henry on the outside, himself locked away on the inside. 

With a sigh, he pushed open the door of the car, tossing the cigarette butt onto the ground and grinding it into the gravel with the heel of his shoe. Hands in his pockets, he shuffled over towards Henry, leaning on the hood of the car. The two stood about an arm’s length away. Bradley didn’t say anything.

The sun was setting, the sky tainted a violent orange red over this stupid, fucking small town. It was even smaller from up here. Bradley had always been too big for this town. And he’d be too big for prison. He’d go mental in there, in that white space, with nothing, nothing, nothing.

And Henry would be out here. Lucky bastard. Henry would be out here, living his life, living in this godforsaken town, living out his future. Living without Bradley.

“Gonna be fucking weird without me, yeah?” he said, lightly, airily, breezily, though the only thought in his head was it’s gonna be fucking weird without you. 

HENRY: 

Fuck Bradley.

Even now, facing his fucking doomed future, he couldn’t be serious for half a fucking second. Or, even worse, he was serious and his flippant air wasn’t just for show. Did Bradley ever care about anything at all? Henry didn’t think so. He’d hoped for so long--all these years--and Bradley just crushed his hope into dust every time he had the chance. 

It was exhausting and Henry didn’t have time for it anymore. He was done. He was so fucking done and so angry and so--

“Why can’t you ever take anything seriously?” he spat in Bradley’s direction, tears stinging his eyes. “You’re never serious. You never care! All this time we’ve been friends and you never cared, did you? Not once!” 

Finally, Henry turned to face Bradley. His eyes drank in the sight of him--like he was an oasis and Henry knew he was going to be lost in the desert for a very long time. He was so beautiful, even now with his sunken eyes and pallid skin. Briefly Henry wondered if he’d been sleeping enough. Probably not. God, Henry hated him so much. 

But he loved him even more. He always had. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Now Henry was closer to him, tears falling freely. He reached out and shoved Bradley backwards, his fingers aching to stay in contact with Bradley’s chest. Henry wouldn’t let them. 

“I hate you!” 

I love you.

BRADLEY:

Henry reached over and shoved him and it felt like an embrace —

See, when Henry’d been sobbing and crying, Bradley felt this wretch of disgust well up in his stomach, because Henry was being pitiful. Pathetic. He wouldn’t survive without Bradley. He was being soft and cloying and he wouldn’t make it.

Then he surged forward and shoved Bradley.

He’d be okay, was the first thought Bradley had.

I won’t be, was the second.

After stumbling back for a second, his sunglasses smattering to the ground, caught off guard by the sudden display of violence, Bradley surged forward and grabbed Henry’s wrist, yanking his friend’s hand up and his body closer. Their knees collided. Bradley looked at Henry’s face, at the curve of his soft lips and his long eyelashes. Their faces almost knocked together, but Bradley stopped just before they could. 

“Yeah, well,” said Bradley, and even though he smiled, his voice ached with a heaviness that did not usually grace it. “I deserve it, don’t I?” 

He let Henry’s hand go and turned away from him.

“You’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in my life, mate,” he said, looking away, off into the distance, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “You’ll be fine without me. You don’t need me like you think you do, you know.” 

Not like I need you. 

He glanced back at Henry now, those words not leaving his lips, but his face was different now. The smile gone, nothing left but a neutral expression, which would be the closest to grief Bradley allowed himself to convey. 

HENRY:

No. 

Bradley didn’t get to say things like that just because he was going away. He didn’t get to let those words drip from his lips, soft like falling rain, and make Henry love him so fiercely it ached deep inside of him. Every word Bradley had ever spoken was like poetry to Henry, but not these. These were part of a eulogy and Henry didn’t want to pay his respects. Henry wanted to be mad. 

Anger was easier. 

Henry should’ve been angry a long time ago. 

“You don’t get to tell me what I need,” he hissed. “You’ve always told me what I need and what’s good for me and you were always wrong. Every time. I never told you how wrong you were and I regret it. I should’ve told you. I should’ve told you you’re an asshole, Bradley.” 

It was true. Looking back on it now, Henry knew that was the only thing that could’ve protected Bradley. It was the only way he could’ve saved him and he failed. He’d been in love, yes, but selfishly so. He hadn’t wanted to lose Bradley and so he’d kept silent and now he was losing him anyway. 

“Do you know how many times I almost did? Do you have any idea how truly awful you can be?” He turned his body so he was fully facing his best friend in the entire world--the one he loved so much it made him sick. “Fuck you for doing this. Fuck you for leaving me alone. Fuck you for treating me like I was nothing to you when you were everything to me. I’m glad you’re going to jail.” 

As soon as the words fell from his lips a deep shame washed over him, but he couldn’t stop now. He was still so angry. “You deserve it.” 

Fight back, Bradley, he thought. Anything to show you actually cared for even one second.

BRADLEY:

Henry yelled. Henry raged. This was by far the most furious Bradley had ever seen Henry. Henry who picked him up when he’d had too much to drink. Henry who cleaned up his vomit. Henry who had been the one to call the ambulance the last time Bradley overdosed. Henry who’d paid his bail. Henry who went along with whatever Bradley threw at him — till now.

Henry yelled and each word was a dagger to Bradley, who was well-versed in the art of catching daggers. He shifted as he stood, his jaw clenching, bracing himself for each word. It was everything he knew Henry would say to him.

You’re an asshole.

Fuck you.

You deserve it.

“Don’t you think I know that?” said Bradley, a curl to his lips now, his voice rising. “I’m not a fucking idiot, Henry. Everything you’ve said, it’s all bloody true. I’m an asshole. I push people along to get what I want. I’m a fucking horrible person — and I can’t — ”

For maybe the first time in his life, Bradley couldn’t figure out what came next. What to say next. He relied on his ability to know what other people wanted him to say, to pull those invisible strings that only he saw to get the right reaction from people. He was like a puppeteer that way, the whole world in front of him just marionettes for his own enjoyment.

Except —

Except he didn’t know what to say to Henry. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what was missing, but he knew something was missing and he would never ever be the person Henry wanted him to be.

“I can’t be anything else,” he said, finally and it sounded like he was choking. “Henry, I fucking can’t. And you know that. I know you know that. You’re not stupid. You’ve known I’m awful. You’ve known I’m an irredeemable piece of shit.” He said it like it was something to be proud of, a lick of a smile on his face, triumphant — all for a brief moment, before his face crumpled again. “So yeah, alright. I don’t get to tell you what you need. You’re fucking better off without me, we both know that. I’m better off in this fucking box, wasting away.”

I won’t make it, he added in his head, not saying that out loud.

“But — “ And again, Bradley struggled. He felt like something was kicking him in the stomach. He couldn’t say what he wanted to say. It was like some part of him was locked away, something he couldn’t reach, something he knew existed but had been removed from him and put in a box, far, far, far away, the key tossed somewhere that he couldn’t access. 

He kicked the side of his car.

“Fuck. I don’t know. I deserve this. I fucking deserve this. I don’t deserve you.” 

HENRY:

Henry laughed. 

It was a twisted, dark sound, heavy with pain and regret. “You’re right,” he said, his chest numb. All the anger from before drained out of him and now he was just so tired. 

Here they were, at their end, and Bradley still couldn’t talk about his feelings. He still couldn’t say anything genuine. He fell back on platitudes and established facts, never daring to go outside of his comfort zone. 

People thought Bradley was brave--Henry used to be one of those people--but Henry knew now he wasn’t brave. He was loud and he was reckless, but he wasn’t brave. Bradley had been running away from everything meaningful for so many years, that Henry wasn’t sure if he could even recognize his own heart anymore. 

Did he even have one? Henry wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Say something real, Bradley. For once in your life. For me.” 

BRADLEY:

I can’t,  thought Bradley, but as he thought it, he realized that wasn't exactly the truth.

I am saying something real. This is what is real to me. It's not what's real for you. Not what's real to the rest of the world.

Something was wrong with Bradley. Oh, he wore it as a badge of honor most of the time, a point of pride. He thought himself far grander and far superior to the rest of the world. And perhaps, after he drove Henry back, after he stumbled back into Birch View, he would think that again.

But right now all he could think about was how if he said what Henry wanted him to say —  I care, perhaps, or maybe even I love you — it wouldn't be real, because Bradley couldn't feel what that was like.

Maybe that's what he needed to say.

"I can't be the person you want me to be," he started. "I know what you want me to tell you. I — it's not something I can do. I can't. I can't love you," and the words slipped out without him realizing and he felt that missing thing in him ache so hard. 

"But I wish I could, Henry. Fuck, mate. You're the only person I'd say that to. The only person who makes me wish I was like everyone else. That I could love." 

He paused. That missing thing in him felt glaringly empty and he wished he ached and he wished that there was something besides nothing. Anything besides nothing. 

"Is that what you want to hear? I can't give you what you want to hear."

HENRY:

And there it was. 

All this time there had been something in between the two of them. Henry had always felt it, dark and heavy, never letting up. Deep down, he knew Bradley didn’t love him. He knew Bradley couldn’t love him. Bradley was damaged and empty and that wasn’t a secret. Henry had just chosen to ignore it. He’d chosen to love harder. He’d chosen to try and close the gap. 

It hadn’t worked. It couldn’t work.

But at least Bradley was being honest about it now and that meant more to Henry than any lie would have because Bradley was wrong. Henry knew that right now--this was the closest to love that Bradley could manage and it was all for him. No one else was here. 

“The only thing I ever really wanted was for you to let me in,” Henry said in a small voice. “I know you know how I feel. I know how pathetic you must think I am and you’re right. I’m pathetic and useless when it comes to you--when it comes to a lot of things, actually. I’m idealistic and hopeless, but I loved you, Bradley. I really did and I want you to remember that if stuff gets really bad, okay?” 

Henry reached out and twisted his fingers with Bradley’s, not looking at him. “I know you can’t love me and I want to say thank you. For telling me, I mean. I’m still mad at you and all of this is still fucked up, but you aren’t the only fucked up one here because, despite everything, I’m going to miss you so much. I hate it.” 

BRADLEY:

Loved. Past tense.

Good for Henry, really. He shouldn’t love Bradley still. He should’ve left a long fucking time ago. He was pathetic, as he said. He was idealistic and hopeless and everything that Bradley despised in people. And Bradley had taken advantage of that. He’d pushed it along. He’d seen how far he could go, what next horrible thing he could do, just what might push Henry away for real this time.

Guess he’d found it.

Without meaning to.

He hadn’t intended to actually go this far. 

Loved. Past tense.

Henry’s fingers were entwined with his own. It was soft, gentle, softer than Bradley had ever been touched, gentler than he ever wanted. 

He looked at Henry and he saw a  dozen different ways he could act next and each and every one of Henry’s reactions. He could kiss Henry gently, like Henry would want, be that gentle, loving person even if it was just a mask. He could shove Henry away and maybe that was what Henry wanted, be that brash, abrasive asshole and make this parting easier. He could kiss Henry roughly. He could laugh. He could say words whispered sweetly, spun up out of everything Bradley knew Henry wanted to hear.

If this was not the last time, then maybe Bradley would’ve pulled Henry’s strings, given him a goodbye worth remembering — be it a longing kiss, a shove to the ground, honeyed whispered words.

But this was the last time. 

Bradley lifted their joined hands up. He squeezed Henry’s hand a little roughly. The sun was dipped way beneath the horizon, now, the sky a deep red. Both of them were in shadow. Bradley shifted his face away from the light. He gave Henry a rough smile, because this final declaration was not what Bradley wanted, not what Henry wanted, but it was the truth and it was what Henry needed.  

“Yeah, well,” he said, and his voice was coarse and honest. He held onto Henry’s hand tighter — almost as if he were scared.  “It will all pass.” 

[alana-the-brilliant]

The People vs. Bradley Uppercrust III || closed

In which a trial ensues…

[tw: sexual assault mentions, drug mentions, alcohol mentions, slut shaming]

feat. @lou-bonfightme, @uppercrust-iii

Keep reading

[gaysie]

sorry but this article is absolutely sending me. would KILL to be at the next table over watching ansel elgort sitting in the dark whipping out crystal encrusted sunglasses from his prada handbag and taking “flamboyant” selfies

[robert-nash]

♪ I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing Roman Cavalry choirs are singing Be my mirror, my sword and shield My missionaries in a foreign field ♪

[literalirredeemablepos]

Dirty Dogs || Baguette

[literalirredeemablepos]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Bradley talked on but even to Lou’s sharp ears it sounded like the crackle of feedback. Like nails on a chalkboard. He didn’t care what he said. It was best if he tried not to focus. He just put one foot in front of the other. His hands clenched into fists by his side. 

Toulouse was doing his best to appear unruffled and for the most part, he was doing alright. His body was more stiff than usual, but he always walked with the proper posture, he never dipped his chin or hulked about. And he did not do idle chit-chat when idle chit-chat was unnecessary. This was nothing but a professional appointment. A favour in exchange for a favour. Bradley may have him on a leash, but he couldn’t make him speak, roll over, play dead.

He only tuned back in when Bradley’s voice grew a smidge quieter, his words less confident. Lou could sense it–the way a dog sensed fear. In honesty, it probably wasn’t Lou at all, though he had always been good at reading people–it was the wolf, watching behind Lou’s eyes, looking for weakness. 

Lou didn’t know what to do with that information, but he was glad he had it. 

Lou stiffened at the direct mention of Alana, though her name was not spoken. He stopped there on the top step of the dais that led down into the yard. 

Inside of Lou, the wolf’s teeth gnashed together with a snap. 

His hand trembled, but Lou stuck it in his pocket.

Let me tear out his throat, bargained the wolf. 

No, Lou told himself. You can’t. 

For once, he wasn’t afraid of the wolf. He was glad for it. If Bradley touched him, it would explode from Lou’s chest and tear him limb from limb. And neither Lou nor the wolf would feel a drop of remorse.

Instead, Lou turned to look Bradley in the eye for the first time since arriving. He took a step forwards, crowding into Bradley’s space. A low growl rumbled up from Lou’s chest. 

Just as quickly as it had happened, he blinked once and drew back, the picture of a perfect gentleman again.

“I can assure you that I don’t know what you are referring to, Bradley,” he told him casually before gamboling down the stairs and into the yard, unlatching the gate and letting himself in, kneeling down at once so that he could stroke the greyhounds on top of their narrow skulls. 

Bradley paused very deliberately, to let the words sort of stew with Lou. The barked, scampering forward, their tongues lolling out. It was a dim, early autumn evening, with just a touch of crispness in the air that made the hairs on the back of Bradley’s neck stand up.

The dogs rushed towards the two men. Gwen sniffed Bradley for a moment, before turning to Lou -- curious and friendly as she was -- while Hubert trotted towards Bradley, a creature of habit and loyalty to his master. He reached a hand for the dog, his eyes softening for a split second This was not something he really realized had happened; Bradley was usually, most often, entirely in control of how his exterior appeared to the outside world. This was just a two second little crinkle of the eyes as Hubert nudged against his hand.

It was gone in the time it took Bradley to blink.

He stood up and looked at Lou.

“Oh, but I’m sure you do,” he said, smiling easily, his teeth bared as if he were the wolf and not the man. “I’ll be frank – I can probably get any uni student from the past five graduating PrideU classes to sit on a podium and tell the court about their wild night with Alana Triton. But you dated her – so that way I don’t need five, I just need you.”

Hubert lifted his head and let out a soft whine.

“And I’m not asking,” Bradley added in a sing song voice, just a smidge louder than Hubert. “If you do recall our arrangement.”

[zodiacdaydreams-deactivated2020]

Aries Sun, Scorpio Moon, Libra Rising

for: @stonedthewitch

[mxrcusflint]

flint puts together a team that’s vicious. unnerving. slightly unhinged. 

[literalirredeemablepos]

Dirty Dogs || Baguette

[literalirredeemablepos]

lou-bonfightme‌:

Why was Toulouse at Bradley Uppercrust III’s house, might you ask? 

The reasons were dark and twisted. The sense of duty he had to those poor, sweet animals owned by a monster. (Yes, Lou realized the irony of calling Bradley a monster, but what other word was there for a person like him?) The fact Bradley said he would not be home. The fact that, despite what Bradley had done, he still knew Lou’s secret and had him on a leash. Lou had never felt the burn of that leash more than he did now.

When it had first happened, Lou had found himself annoyed but–he was willing to humiliate himself in order to save his family the embarrassment of a public scandal. It wasn’t like Bradley asked him to do anything terrible anyway–take care of his dogs, intimidate a dealer or two into free drugs (Lou didn’t care if Bradley wanted to drug himself into a stupor or not–and the dealers probably deserved it anyway), give a phone number, put him in contact with people out of his reach and station. It had drained, but Lou refused to let Bradley release his secret to the press.

That was even more true now, with Duchess’ death fresh in the papers and the rumor mill. His secret coming out now would put untold stress on his mother and father and siblings. It would put his family–including little Claude–in danger. 

So, he was here. 

It made him sick to his stomach, he wanted to leave. He wished he was braver, but–he wasn’t. And at the end of the day, he had to protect his family over Alana Triton. Bradley would get his comeuppance. Lou had to believe that. 

However, when he spotted him at the end of his driveway, Lou stopped dead several feet away. His hands shook. He curled them into fists at his side. Sucked in a deep breath. His body jerked–like he was about to transform or he was about to turn around and leave.

One call to the papers–

Lou took a step forward, than another, stiff like wood. He barely looked at him. Instead, he just nodded once, silently and started towards the side of the house where he knew the dogs were kept.

Lou was playing hard-to-get, but that was all fine by Bradley. He loved a challenge; he loved the thrill of the chase. It was so much more entertaining to be in pursuit, to have to wear someone down.

“Nice day we’re having,” said Bradley, leading Lou into the marbled halls of Birch View. “It’ll be a good run for the dogs – they’ve been itching for a run. They know how stressed my father is about all of this – you know how animals can just feel that, right?” He gave Lou a playful smirk, daring him to say something, but even if Lou wanted to, Bradley cut him off right again.

“Anyway, as you can imagine – this whole…thing.” He waved his hand dismissively here, indicating that he thought very little of the situation and its ramifications. Though, truth be told, even if Bradley assured himself that nothing would come of the whole thing – that he’d get good lawyers and judges who liked his father and could spin a social media frenzy so very easily – there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind that his time was running out.

Tick-tick-tick, went the little clock. He thought of the nine notches underneath his desk upstairs – the nine times he’d almost died. Almost, but not quite a perfect ten.

“You know as well as I that she’ll shag anyone,” said Bradley, as they got to the garden area where the dogs waited. “In fact – you probably know better.”

[henrycharming]

August 26, 2019: the day we all fall down | Crumpet

[henrycharming]

uppercrust-iii‌:

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[literalirredeemablepos]

Henry’s nails dug into his skin. Bradley groaned. He pushed deeper into Henry, his body craving the promise of something that he knew he would never have.  If his elbow jammed into the carpet and burned because of the friction, if Henry’s nails sank into his skin and made him bleed, if he grasped Henry’s throat and Henry choked out his name as he came, even after all that Bradley knew – it wouldn’t be enough.

There would always be something missing in him.

That’s what made him better than everyone else.

And yet –

He looked right into Henry’s eyes now and for the first time he actually felt that empty piece of him. He didn’t like how it felt. He didn’t like that no matter what he did, no matter how many nights Henry stumbled into his arms, no matter how many times Bradley kissed him back, there would be something missing. He didn’t like that it was only now that he felt like that was wrong and not better.

He hated Henry for making him feel week.

He thrust fully into Henry, kissing him on the mouth, a painfully slow kiss that grew stronger, his teeth scraping against Henry’s lip again, tasting Henry’s blood again. Bradley ran his thumb against Henry’s jawline, then his fingers encircled his throat.

“You’re not gonna forget this,” he sneered, though his voice was strained, his own pleasure mounting. “You’re going to remember this every goddamn day of your life.”

[literalirredeemablepos]

Dirty Dogs || Baguette

All of this was an absolutely annoying situation to find oneself in, but Bradley still had a few cards left to play.

Truly, though, he wasn’t worried, because even if the town turned on him – and by God, he heard the whispers of these pathetic people – a good lawyer and a good judge would just give him a slap on the wrist at the worst and realize this was absolutely a waste of time at the best.

But, you know, just in case, Bradley had to make sure things were stacked in his favor. Daddy Uppercrust would take care of the lawyers and figuring out which judges he’d gotten pints with back at Cambridge. Bradley would take care of other variables.

And just luckily enough, there was one devastated closet werewolf who’d also dated Alana Triton back in the day who owed Bradley a little favor. The fact that Alana had slept with about the entire college-aged population of the town (so Bradley assumed) and the fact that she’d only dated one person as far as he knew worked to his advantage. He’d have to make that clear to Lou, though.

So, he sent a text asking Lou to come over under the pretense of yet another favor to do with Bradley’s greyhounds, only this time, Bradley waited outside, leaning on the archway of the front door as Lou walked up.

“Evenin’,” he said, cheerily. “I know I said it would just be you and the dogs, but I had a change of heart. Shall we go ‘round back to them? They’re excited to play with one of their own.”  

@lou-bonfightme