#miles richards

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

Hugo: Miles I have holes in my pockets and no one useful on speed dial. I'm built for hiding in libraries.

Miles: I'm not gonna lie to the police so you can ponce around in a f{}ck{}ng cape for the rest of your life!

Sam Reid, once again, bringing us a messy disaster lgbt+ as Hugo in The Riot Club.

The Riot Club was adapted from a play called Posh, whivh was created by the playwright, Laura Wade.

[ladyantiheroine]

“I can fix him” but instead of taking an abusive boyfriend and making him decent I’m taking a champagne socialist boyfriend and fixing him after he’s been corrupted by an all-male Oxford society that has encouraged him to indulge in reckless hedonism and gross elite entitlement.

[dyingbythehand]

Charlie Dalton, Rodrick Heffley, Knox Overstreet, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Barty Crouch jr, Valerie Malone, Brenda Walsh, Andrea Zuckerman, Miles Richards, Lily Evans, Fred Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Theo Nott >> real people

[blackthornwinter]

Max Irons as Miles Richards in The Riot Club, 2014, dir.  Lone Scherfig

Alistair Ryle: This bourgeois outrage when we do anything, say anything. Anything we ever build or achieve. Anything with the slightest whiff of magnificence. How did they get everywhere? How did they make everything so fucking second-rate? Them thinking they're better because there's more of them! That's not sweat on their palms, it's envy. It's resentment! And it stinks like a fucking drain! I'm sick to fucking death of poor people!

[backtothestart02]

Human Error - Prologue: Part 1

A/N: After several imploring reviews, I’ve decided to put my Host fic on hold to start up my fic inspired from the movie, The Riot Club. I had four chaps on ffnet, so I’m going to slowly have them beta’d and posted on ao3 before continuing. Feel free to skip over this if you’re not interested. But if you are, please tell me your thoughts! I have a little traffic for it on ffnet, and I’d be thrilled if I got some over on ao3 too. :)

*many thanks to @valeriemperez who betas things she’s never seen before. XD

Synopsis: Final year at Oxford...Lauren's threat to call him out was enough to keep him quiet, but when they're forced to work together in a class neither of them can get out of in their final semester, will even that interaction push her over the edge or will she give him another chance? Miles/Lauren. Multi-Chap.

Prologue - Part 1

There was a light dusting of snow on the ground when the car finally rolled to a stop at the end of a seemingly endless drive leading to their country home.

"We're here!" Ollie announced, unbuckling his seat belt so fast it was a wonder it didn't slap him in the face when he thrust open the door and dashed into the yard.

Miles, who had been trying to achieve a sort of lapse of consciousness against the cold glass window, tried to ignore the enthusiasm bursting from his brother, but the slam of the door and the gentle nudging from his mother ended the 3-hour struggle.

"Sweetheart," she cooed softly. He opened his eyes reluctantly. "We're here." She smiled and turned back around to let herself out of the vehicle. No doubt to keep his younger brother from mischief, Miles mused.

His father caught his gaze and he grinned.

"Snow's come early this year." He beamed. "We'll have a roaring for the holiday party next week."

Miles could only blink. He didn't even want to try to register the impact his father's words made. Had he forgotten so quickly the serious trouble his son had gotten into? Was he just going to forget it even happened just because he hadn't been expelled?

As if he'd sensed his thoughts, his father's gaze suddenly sobered and he turned around in his seat to face his son. His tone was as deadly serious as ever.

"About Oxford," he began, "don't tell anyone what happened."

Miles brows furrowed in a mix of frustration, outrage and confusion, but his father raised his hand to silence any words that would have spilled out of his mouth.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Miles," he said. "No one is perfect. We are all human." He paused to take in his son's conflicted expression. "Whatever it was exactly that you did, you need to put it behind you. Learn from this experience and look to the future. If you don't, history will only repeat itself and the next time it might not be quite so easy to get out of."

Miles tried to let the words sink in, to put stock in them, but it was proving difficult to figure out if they were words of wisdom or words from a rich man not wanting to lose his position in the world and afraid he might if word got out that the Richards wasn't the perfect family in every way.

Before Miles could settle on which option was most likely, his father's face had morphed back into a silly grin and he was joining the rest of his family where they stood on the front porch locked outside of their holiday home. Freda, their house maid, wouldn't be arriving until tomorrow, it seemed, and only his father now held the keys.

…

As advised, Miles did his best to not think about his first semester at Oxford. He tried to focus on life before Oxford and life after Oxford, on academics and family, not false friends and a lost love. For a while, he succeeded.

On Monday he went Christmas shopping with his mother. On Tuesday, he took his brother ice skating, telling him it wasn't as easy as it looked, and quickly delivering hot chocolate when the sheer number of falls became too much for the younger boy's pride. On Wednesday, the whole family went together to chop down their own Christmas tree in the heart of the back woods on their property. The rest of the week went on in this fashion, providing either purely fun activities or planning ones that became fun either thanks to his mother's perfectly tuned singing voice or his father's expertise on the violin. By Saturday afternoon, a mere hour before the party would begin, everything was as blissful as if this was a regular Richards holiday on any year but this one.

"I ran into Bridget this morning when I was in town, Miles," his mother mentioned as she came through the door with flowers to display throughout the room.

"Hmm?" he asked, not looking away from where he stood watching the snow fall at the front window.

"Bridget," he repeated, making her way to him. "Stephanie's mother."

Miles tensed slightly, hoping his mother wouldn't notice. Stephanie had been the belle of the ball to both his parents, and anyone else they were friends with if he was being honest. She was beautiful, smart, well-educated and she came from excellent family background. If you were anyone in the upper class of England, you wanted your son involved with Stephanie Bellington.

To his misfortune, Miles had briefly allowed himself to be swept up in her charm some summers ago. He had been the one to break it off, much to everyone’s surprise. His parents had been devastated, though the relationship – if you could call it that – had lasted little more than a month. Until recently he hadn't really understood why he'd felt the need to cut it short so quickly. It was by far his least tactical break-up. So…we should break up, he'd said, and winced at the memory. To her great credit she'd been neither dramatic or numb about his announcement. Classy as ever, as he recalled.

Fresh off his break-up from Lauren though, which had been both dramatic in the moment and numbed him in the after math, the last thing he wanted to do was endure another scene with Stephanie Bellington that would include his parents – or at least his mother – lingering blatantly in the background, hoping they would decide to give it another go.

As luck would have it, and as he knew was inevitable, she was invited to the infamous Richards' Holiday Party.

"Miles—" His mother forced him away from where he stood stacking logs by the fireplace and to the door where the Bellingtons had just arrived in the front hall, despite his protestations. "You remember the Bellingtons, don't you? Mrs. Bellington, Mr. Bellington, Ni—" she frowned mid-sentence. "Where is—?" she addressed the lady of the family.

"Niles is away at boarding school, I'm afraid," Mrs. Bellington said. For some reason that got Miles' attention.

"For the holiday?" he asked.

She nodded somberly. "Yes. We begged him to come home, at least for Christmas, but he's loving it there in Ireland and he's on his final semester, so he said he'd just be staying with friends."

Miles nodded vaguely, wondering if he would be doing the same thing had his parents lived farther away and the outcome of the incident with The Riot Club not been quite so friendly for him.

"And of course, there's Stephanie," his mother continued, urging the blonde out from beneath her parents' wings and relieving her of the caramel-colored fur coat she was wearing. "How are you doing, dear? You certainly look lovely." She glanced over at her son pointedly. "Doesn't she, Miles?"

He nodded politely. "Stunning."

She blushed faintly. "Thank-you, Miles." She turned briefly to his mother. "I'm doing well, Mrs. Richards." Her eyes found Miles again. "Better now."

His mother was practically beaming with delight, no doubt designing the wedding invitations in her mind as she scurried off with the coat of only one of the Bellingtons in her hands. Freda, as well as their butler, Theodore, were both around to receive coats and dispose of them in some upstairs room, but Miles offered to take the other Bellington coats anyway to get away. Whether Stephanie had never gotten over him, despite appearances before now to the contrary, or she'd just sparked a sudden interest potentially after learning he attended Oxford, he was sufficiently over her and had been for years. The last thing he wanted to think about tonight was his love life, and certainly not anything Oxford-related.

Despite his best efforts, Miles found Stephanie joining his company sometime after dinner when a portion of the guests were sinking in the rest of the evening with champagne and the beauty of Mister and Misses Richards' duet.

"So, my father tells me you're attending Oxford now."

Miles closed his eyes, suppressing a groan.

"Your parents must be on cloud nine."

He forced a smile.

"They were, yes." He didn't look at her, but he could sense her frown and knew he had to erase it somehow, if only by lying to her. "When I got accepted, they were thrilled," he clarified to which she looked instantly relieved. "They're even more thrilled now that I haven't been kicked out."

She laughed coquettishly, and he knew he was in trouble, but made a valiant effort to ignore any flirtation on her part.

"They shouldn't have worried," she said, her eyes shining with admiration and boundless confidence. "There is nothing you do that you don't succeed at." She took a sip of her champagne and murmured, "I should know."

To his chagrin, he blushed a light pink and was grateful for the atmospheric lighting in the room. She was referring to their first time together – his too, entirely.

"We're all human," he said, repeating his father's words. "Eventually we are bound to make mistakes." She was about to say something else and likely slip her manicured hand high up on his thigh discreetly when he excused himself to attend to some matter or other that he didn't actually need to be bothered with.

He didn't escape the party altogether, because surely his mother would have condemned him for that, but he did manage to avoid all the placements of mistletoe throughout the house that Stephanie might stand under.

"Where did you disappear to last night, Miles?" his mother asked him far too sweetly the next morning after she'd had her first full cup of coffee. "It looked like you and Stephanie were getting on so very well."

He forced a smile and set out to involve himself with his brother's morning activities.

"I was around," he said, and that was the end of the conversation.

…

Two days before holiday ended, Miles began to pack for his return to Oxford. He didn't know how it would play out, and frankly he was afraid of everything. He didn't think he could really trust anyone, and the ache he would feel whenever he was likely to spot Lauren in a courtyard or down a hall or in her own secluded library was inevitable. He felt it even now as he packed, and any time he saw a brunette on the street, any time his mother mentioned Stephanie too because Lauren had been so much better than a pretty blonde with a nice inheritance and the class of an heiress to the throne.

What weighed on him heavily was that he was starting to feel not at home in his own home, with his own family now too. The pressure about Stephanie had been only amusing before, but now it irritated. His father's flaunting of money and insistence on it, he'd brushed aside, but now he became angered by it. His brother's eagerness to attend Oxford had made him laugh before. Now he wanted to warn him on all the horrors of the world and try to persuade him to join any university but that one in the hope there would be no temptation like the riot club.

His experience at Oxford had started to change him immensely. He was not just the down-to-earth rich kid he'd been when he first arrived. Now he was angry, cautious, resentful, and if he was honest, a little bit hopeless.

All he could do was focus on his studies, and not cut any corners. While Hugo had once said in great amusement that some people attend Oxford to get a degree, Miles now planned to do only that. He would not make mistakes the way he had in his first semester. And he would go in with eyes wide open. That was the only way to avoid the kind of catastrophe he'd been sucked into before. If people wound up hurt this time, it would not be on account of him.

His guilty conscience already had enough to bear.

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

[club-riot]

Riot Boys

[aoibhs]

Library

Chapter One 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from The Riot Club/Posh, and all OCs were beautifully crafted by @club-riot

Poppy reached for the big brown book and her hand touched off someone else's, going for the same book. "Go ahead," Poppy whispered, then looked properly at the person and instantly regretted it. She had to be polite now that she committed to it at the start of a conversation. "Thanks," Lauren gave a small smile and selected the large art history book from the shelf. "No problem," Poppy said quickly and turned away, deciding on trying to find a PDF of the book online in order to get away from her as soon as possible. "You're Miles' friend, aren't you?" So much for that plan. "Yeah, I am," She just nodded. God, how she wanted to just be rude and walk away. That might impact her friendship with Miles, it was risky. "He talks about you, it's just nice to finally meet you," Lauren shrugged, hugging the book to her chest. "Likewise," She nodded. Was that it? Could she leave? "I didn't know you studied art history too," Ugh. "Fine art," Poppy corrected her, "I have a module in art history," "One of the big lectures?" There was a slight smirk on Lauren's face that said she had figured out why they had never met before. Well done, Lauren. "That's right," Poppy nodded again, glancing over at her desk, where Imogen was working on an assignment, her back to them. She'd never notice Poppy who was on the verge of praying for a way out. "We should get a coffee sometime," Lauren smiled, "I'd love to get to know some of Miles' friends better. I'm Lauren, by the way," Yeah, she knew that long before that, but anyway. "Poppy Kensington," She answered. "Like the place in London? Do you live there?" Poppy had to obtain an enormous amount of self-control so that she wouldn't automatically cringe at how annoying her accent was. "Yes and no," She pretended to chuckle and backed away, "This was really lovely, Lauren," No, it wasn't, "But I've got work I need ready for the end of the week," "I'll get Miles to give you the book when I'm done," Lauren chirped. "Thanks," She nearly ran but her self-control kicked in again. At this point, the PDF was her only friend now. She would have words with Imogen about facing the right direction to help her out of sticky situations in the future and Imogen would be dying to laugh at how ludicrous it was. Lauren Small wanted to be her friend. "Better you than me," She snorted, then looked across the table to see Elizabeth doodling instead of writing her essay on Chaucer, "Hey, Shaw," Her friend looked up, "Quit writing your name and Guy's name in a heart and get back to work, yeah?" "Yeah, Elizabeth Bellingfield," Poppy added. "I'm actually crossing out something someone else wrote on all my notebooks," She held up a notebook that had her own name scratched out and Elizabeth Leighton-Masters written quite crudely in large, bold letters all over the rest of its surface. "That's nearly as funny as Lauren," Imogen fanned her face as if that would stop her from giggling. That's when Poppy glared and poked her in the ribs with her pen, that got her to stop laughing. "Who would do this?" Elizabeth's feelings didn't exactly look hurt but she did looked bewildered. James wouldn't have done this himself, would he? "That would be me," Harry Villiers approached the table, sitting next to Elizabeth. "Why? And how did you even get these?" She held up her copies, still confused as ever. "Lizzy, this is out of your hands now," He touched her chin and sighed in a condescending tone that had Imogen in muted stitches again, "I'm here in need of your services," "We're working here, Villiers," Poppy gestured to her notes that lay scattered on the desk. "So am I," Harry pretended to look shocked by her comment, "I need some tips for my date with Honora," "Buy her expensive stuff," Imogen shrugged. "Well other than that," Harry smiled, knowing he had something under control. "Nice dinner and then go to a club," Poppy added her own shrug. "Let her pick the wine," Elizabeth said. "Yes. Definitely," Imogen pointed at in agreement. "Ah, wonderful," Harry grinned, satisfied with the advice he had received, "You all set up for your own date, Shaw?" Harry nudged her, smirking. "What?" "With Bellend," "I...um. Pardon?" "Wait, are you telling me he hasn't asked you?" Harry creased his eyebrows, becoming confused with her. "Was he supposed to?" "I mean," He spluttered a laugh then pretended to cough before the librarian caught his eye, "He was supposed to a month ago but here we are," "Well, I'm a married woman, Harry," She held up the notebook which he had written all over with a blank expression. "Oh come on," He grinned. "I won't believe anything unless he actually tells me himself," She shrugged, putting the notebook down again, beginning to draw hearts around some of the names. "Don't be like that, Lizzy," Harry sighed, leaning in closer so that she'd look at him, "I can't help it if he's being a pussy, I'm doing all I can to help you both," "How is this help?" She pointed her pen at the notebook of names again. "You need to broaden your mind to all the possibilities this'll give you," Harry raised his hands to his temples, flicking them outward. "Her brain can't register jealousy, Villiers," Poppy weighed in, "Our Elizabeth is too nice," "I'm not jealous of anyone," Elizabeth shrugged, going back to drawing hearts again. "Yeah but Guy is," Imogen shook her head. "No, he's not," "Are you really this blind?" Harry actually scoffed at that, "He's obsessed with you, Shaw and everyone knows it except you," "Don't be ridiculous, I'm not falling for that joke again," She began to pack up her notebooks. "Again?" Poppy looked at her, now curious and concerned. "My... My brothers, um," She sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "They used to tell me their friends fancied me so that I'd try to get them to kiss me or whatever. I'm not that dim anymore though," "No you've just switched off your radar for any form of male affection for you," Imogen rolled her eyes. "We're not finished here," Harry stood up to leave, "Cheers for the tips,"

Chapter Twenty-Four

[txtalrevenge]

The Riot Club (2014) Dir. Lone Scherfig