A/N: Hello fanfiction universe, it is I, your humble servant Jotunheim Storm
I know, I know I've got other stories to be updating but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I had to write it down. I apologise for lack of updates I've been caught up in exam season.
What you may be wondering is, what is this story about. I tell you. I recently started watching The Riot Club, staring Sam Claflin, Max Irons and Douglas Booth. While watching it, I developed a new ship and this idea came to me.
The characters I'm using are; Hugo Fraser-Tyrwhitt (Sam Reid) {who I'll be writing as}, Miles Richards (Max Irons) and Harry Villiers (Douglas Booth) Just to clear the air, in the film Hugo is gay so this isn't made up.
Whoop, whoop! The Riot Club now has it's on category!
Please be kind, this is my first attempt a writing slash. I read it a lot but not write it. I hope you enjoy reading it. IF YOU DON'T LIKE SLASH DON'T READ THIS STORY!
I'll shut up now.
~I've been Jotunheim Storm~
Thanks xoxo
Life in the most infamous club of all; The Riot Club, was often a drunken haze to say the least. Most envied the select ten of the Riot Club. The suit and tails, the respect and the hot women that always seemed to tag along with our group. We were told to be eloquent, respectful and well-mannered young men. If you knew us, you'd be thinking otherwise. But you don't, so you'll have to take my word for it. We're a bunch of a-holes.
Truth to tell, I envied them. How tedious it was to always walk around unaware of everything around me, everything a blur. When I'm drunk my thoughts feel like they've been boosted to High Definition. I'm thinking very clearly about not very much. As the drunken nights continue, my coordination, balance and attention deteriorate significantly. My thoughts become entangled with the toxins of the masses of alcohol I'm consuming. White wine, red wine, champagne, larger, bitter and of course liquors. Don't forget our old friend shots. Of course straight up vodkas.
Later on into the night I'm headache on legs. My stomach feels like it's going explode and some dumb arse keeps filling my glass. Harry is sweet talking some blonde bar maid. Her eyes are a brilliant blue and her blonde curls cascade down her back. He leans over the bar, taking her hand and whispering something into her ear. She pulls away, her expression disgusted. She picks up the glass on wine on the bar and pours it all over his head. She turns on her heel, walking away from Harry. I fail miserably at supressing my laughter. Harry shots me a look of daggers, if looks could kill hay?
"Sullen bitch," he curses.
I snigger, walking towards Harry taking a seat on one of the stools. The one that isn't covered in beer. Harry's tails were nowhere to be seen, it was likely he became too hot and threw the tails aside. My eyes scan Harry's face, taking in his appearance. He has a chiselled jaw, thin stubble and full lips. His olive green eyes stare down at his glass. His light brown hair is parted to the left. He sits on the stool in his white shirt, waistcoat and black trousers. Harry Villiers is an attractive young man to say the least. He makes both men and women alike weak at the knees. The way he can look you and make you feel as if all of time has stopped in that one moment your eyes lock. The second you fall for him he's already moved on to someone else. It's easy for him, he's undeniably gorgeous. Not that long ago I know I would of fallen victim to his sweet talk, winning smile and impressive body.
Not since Miles though.
I still remember the very first day I met Miles.
He came and sat next to me at the bar and I couldn't stop my eyes from lustfully glances over his body. He had sharp cheekbones set in his manly face. His eyes were a luscious green, a green that reminded me a fields of grass. His brown hair was of a light shade, it spiked up. I had to fight the urge to reach out and tangle my fingers into his hair. He was beautiful and I couldn't stop looking at him. I desperately wanted to say something cool, suave and seductive my stupid words fell from my mouth instead. My hands were sweating and my heart beating out my chest. His name; Miles Richards. I was smitten.
No one in the club new of my sexuality. No one expect Harry. That was one of the things I hated about Harry. He always seemed to know your dirty little secrets. I was often forced into positions and event I had no desire to do due to his blackmail. He threatened if I didn't do as I was told he would tell everyone of my homosexuality. He made a promise to me that he would tell Miles of my crush on him. And that was something I couldn't allow. There was no way Miles could find out, it was too embarrassing for words.
My parents knew of my sexuality. They found out when I was sixteen. That was when I had my first boyfriend, Jonty. We went to Westminster School together. Jonty had coffee coloured skin, chocolate brown eyes and a voice that could melt butter. I was so in love with him, but he moved to Canada and I never saw him again. I saw Miles around school sometimes, but we never got to speak. He was always busy and I was too shy, too awkward and too gay.
I was surprised that Miles remembered me, but it ignited a spark of excitement and passion that burnt inside of me. All he remembered of me was my Latin limericks. But that was enough to send me into a wild frenzy. I did write limericks in Latin, I had one especially written just for Miles.
Cor meum ad verberat Miles
Ipsum risus, semper omnes
Venerabilis et dulce
Maxima youll occursum guy
Miles sum diligens.
The translation being;
My heart beats for Miles
I always give him all my smiles
His adorable and sweet
The greatest guy you'll meet
I'm in love with Miles.
I wrote in one evening in the haze of my drunkenness and stuffed it into a draw not daring to open it again. I often became artistically inspired in the blur of being plastered. I kept a diary back in the halls residence. I had taken many a day to use my best calligraphy to write out Miles' name several times. After doing so I went on to writing my name with his surname afterwards. Hugo Richards had a great ring to it did it not?
I went to stand up to make my way back Oxford. We were currently in an old village pub. As I did I stumble over my own feet and fall flat on my face. I silently cursed my own stupidity. I was way too pissed to even walk.
"Oh Hugo, don't fall over old chap," Harry called.
Smug bastard.
I feel strong arms loop underneath my own. I look up to see my own knight in shining armour; Miles. I feel my cheeks heating up into a furious blush. His hands were so close to my waist. I wanted to pull him towards me and never let him go. He moves his hands away but the flesh he touched still blushed and burned his passion and desire.
"Are you okay Hugo?" he asked concerned.
I want to lie, make up some crazy fib that I felt sick, too sick to move. Then he would have to scoop me up in his strong arms and carry me away like Mr Darcy.
"Hugo?" he questioned.
I must have been caught in my fantasy again as I didn't reply to his question he asked me ages ago.
"Sorry, I'm fine Miles. Thank you for asking," I replied quickly.
He looks at me, a look of worry consumed his face. He places the back of hand against my forehead, I lean in to his touch. He pulls his hand away his eyes filled with concern.
"Hugo, you're running I fever. I'm gonna take you home," he told me.
"I'm fine, stop worrying," I slurred an answer.
Miles rolls his green eyes, looping an arm underneath my arm. He half drags, half carries me out of the pub. I hear other members of the Riot Club mumbling their good byes and I ignore the kissing sounds coming from Harry. Miles opens the door to his Jaguar and I sit inside of the car. I struggle with the seatbelt for a while before Miles does it for me. I blush as a reply. He sides into the driver's seat, putting the keys in and pressing down on the exhaust.
"You can't drive, you're drunk," I stutter.
He looks over to me, grinning. His smile is so beautiful.
"I wasn't drinking, I anticipated someone becoming ill so I need my wits about me," he chuckled.
He drove slowly down the moonlit streets of Oxford. I sighed looking at the sky. The dark blue sky was filled with sparkling jewels known as stars. I look at Miles and my heart beats a hundred times faster than a human heart should. It feels like a scene in a romantic movie. Were the handsome, perfect guy drives the stupid, loveable girl home. In this scenario, I'm the girl. If I was bold enough, I would reach out and take his hand in mine own.
He pulls up outside my home, and I manage to get out of the car without falling over again. I fumble with the keys in the lock and eventually beg for Miles' help. He is, as always, happy to oblige. He unlocks the door and helps me into the house. I fling myself onto the sofa, curling up in a blanket my mother knitted for me when I was younger. Miles sits next to me in silence, checking my temperature again. The flash of concern appears again. He stands up and goes into the kitchen. Ten minutes later he reappears with a bowl of warm soup and a spoon. The cockles of my heart are warmed by how tentative he is. I know see why Lauren loved him so. He spoon fed me the soup and promised he wouldn't leave until I was better. Every time I gagged, he had a bucket to hand. Never once did he complain when he was cleaning up the vomit I just threw up. As I began to shiver, he took off his warm jumper and wrapped me in it tightly. He wraps an arm around me trying to keep me warm. I feel like I'm burning up on the inside my freezing cold on the outside. I rest my head on his broad shoulder, nuzzling my face into the nook of his shoulder. He was so warm and smelt of a comforting musky smell.
"You need to go home," I say as my teeth chatter.
He rolls his eyes in response as if to say to me, yeah right.
"Not until your better," he promised.
We sit there, in deafening silence. My head on his shoulder, his arm around my waist.
"Miles," I mumble.
He looks down at me, smiling sweetly.
"Mm," he replies.
The words I desperately want and need to say get caught in my throat again. I feel like I'm gonna throw up again but I persist against the nausea. I need to tell him the truth.
"I love you Miles," I whispered.
The once beautiful silence breaks down to an awkward silence. He pulls his arm away from me and shrugs his shoulder moving my head away from him. I curse my own foolishness, why did I have to ruin such a flawless moment?
Without warning his lips meet mine. His kiss is soft, kind and thoughtful. The warmth of his kiss sends buzzes of electricity through me and I don't react for a moment. I kiss him back, with every ounce of power I can summon. I move my hands to his cheek, cupping his face, caressing his skin my fingertips. His hands move to my waist and he's pulling me toward him. His strong arms pull my body own top of him as he deepens the kiss. I can't breathe, caught in a fictional romance. He pulls away much to my displeasure.
"I love you too," he smiles.
The sunlight of dawn creeps through the pale net curtains, shining on both of our faces, blinding me slightly. I lean down to him kissing his soft, warm lips again.
Maybe living in a drunken haze wasn't that bad.
There was no way I was forgetting this moment.