Roger Taylor enthusiast 👾

“It’s a secret lair, isn’t it?”

Ben’s face is still with sincerity which only makes you laugh louder at him. He sits across from you at the kitchen island, cup of tea in hand as always, discussing the door under the stairs that leads down into your basement, one he seems distraught to not have explored. Outside, the rain dribbles down the windows, causing freckled shadows against the marble counters.

“I’m just saying, the padlocked door is a little off-putting,” Ben continues, gesturing to the copper lock. You laugh again, snorting as you inhale, which only sets you both off with louder chuckles. “You’re not even denying it!” He whines.

Through breathy laughter you reply, “It’s not an evil lair.”

“HA!”

You look at your boyfriend, confused by his outburst.

“I didn’t say ‘evil,’ that was all you. So, go on, who have you got locked up down there?”

“Benny!” You exclaim, “That’s a bit dark.”

He huffs  in victory, “Still no denial.”

He slaps his hand across his own chest, “Oh God. It’s a sex room, isn’t it?”

Ben leans across the counter, his slender fingers finding the ticklish part of your neck, “Who knew my girl was such a sex freak?”

You recoil, hitting his hand away before replying sarcastically, “Yes, Ben. It’s a red room.”

He acts offended, scoffing, “How come I haven’t been invited in?”

“You’re too vanilla.” You say casually, getting up and sauntering past him to put your mug in the sink.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he stands, following you, “what does that even mean ‘too vanilla?’”

You turn and place your hand on his chest before gently brushing your nails against his top down to the waist of his jeans. You look up at him innocently and shrug. Ben, instantly turned on by your actions, backs you into the counter roughly, but still gently enough not to hurt you. The muscles in his arm flex as he places a hand against the edge of the marble, trapping you between him. Your fingers latch onto the belt notches of his jeans, pulling him closer. He leans in, his pink lips brushing against yours.

“I’ll show you vanilla.” It’s almost a snarl and in one swift movement, he’s lifted you onto the counter and positioned himself between your legs. The summer dress you’re wearing rises up your thighs, giving him access to your skin. His calloused fingers run up and down the outside of your thighs as he attaches his lips to your neck. While leaning your head back to give him more space, you moan, egging him on. He pushes your dress further up your leg, until it pools at your hips.

Slowly, Ben’s pulls away from your skin. The burning sensation rushes through your entire body, craving every inch of him.

“Why did you stop?” You find yourself asking.

Ben smirks the same old smirk that made you fall for him.

He answers with five simple words, “so I could do this.”

Before you can reply, Ben throws his lips against yours. His large hands run up either side of your legs, he slowly wraps his hand around the thong you were wearing and gently pulls it down to your knees. Finally he releases his lips from yours.

“Ben…”

He places a finger over your lips. His free hand helps continue to take off your thong. Once it falls to your ankles, his hand makes its way up to your breast. A gentle squeeze sends fireworks through your body. Your breathing begins to become heavy.

Ben reaches for your throat, gripping tightly. You begin to tingle. After a few seconds, he kisses your neck again but instead of remaining there, he begins to make his way down. Untying the back of your summer dress, Ben watches as it falls to your waist. He makes his way to your breasts and starts sucking on them very gently and you can’t help but wrap your legs around waist, slowly brushing yourself backwards and forwards against his body. Finally, Ben makes his way down once more, this time finding himself pleasuring you within your thighs. Simple strokes with his tongue against your skin make you grab the back of his head and slowly begin moving it faster and faster. His hands still rest on your breasts as your breathing becomes heavy.

“Oh my god.” You moan.

Ben chuckles and he pulls away.

“Don’t stop.” A whine releases itself from your lips and when Ben straightens up, you find yourself face to face once again.

“All in good time,” he says, stroking your hair as he kisses your lips gently. His breath smelt of you. And instead of being disgusted as you had been with other partners. You were enticed. Excited. No. Ecstatic. You wanted him so badly you didn’t care what he smelt like.

“I want you. Right now.” You say to Ben as he begins unbuckling his belt.

“Well then, you better take me to your sex room.”

You smirk, one hand on his chest and one hand pleasuring yourself. You push him back and jump off the counter.

“I want you. NOW.” You pull down his jeans and underwear. As you lower the clothing, you lower with it. Slowly making your way down to begin pleasuring him. Already erect, you hold him in your hands, the warm feeling sending you wild. Brushing him against your lips, you begin lubricating him with your saliva. You look up to see Ben, completely stunned. A smile runs across your face moments before you open your mouth to fit the tip inside. Your tongue circles him. The taste, not as bad as you remember, made you begin groping your breast. Your hand moves down to pleasure yourself as you begin adding more of him into your mouth making him moan loudly.

“Fuck!”

You smile around him. Ben reaches for his pocket to pull out a condom. You stop him.

“Wait.”

Ben looks at you concerned and you quickly reply.

“If you’re not vanilla. Then do we need it?”

He looks at you with shock. “Are you sure?”

You smirk. Your hand slowly starts playing with him once again.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Ben smirks.

“I want you, Ben. And I want to feel you.”

He picks you up and places you back onto the counter top. Ben places his hand onto himself and he slowly positions himself correctly. He rubs himself against you, using you to lubricate himself. Your breathing becomes heavy again. In a swift movement, you pull him into you. Just the tip at first, driving you wild, craving more and more until every inch of him was inside of you.

“Oh my god. Ben.”

Your breathing becomes heavier and heavier as you lean into him, kissing him.

He moans into your lips,“I love you.”

Three words you cling to as you stare into his eyes. “I love you too.”

Ben slowly begins thrusting backwards and forwards. Giving himself to you, just as much as you were giving yourself to him.

Your hands on his chest slowly trace the curves in his body. The two of you reach your climax together. You sit there on the counter, staring into his eyes as he stares into yours, sweaty foreheads against each other.

Man, oh, man. What have you got yourself into?

--

“Hey,” Ben places a supportive hand on your knee, keeping his other hand tight on the steering wheel, “I think you’re really brave for doing this, Sweets.”

Sweets. One of many nicknames Ben had come up with for you; Sweets, My Girl, Gorgeous, Sunny. Some were corny like ‘Squishy’ or ‘Bubs’ but Sweets is your favourite so far. Although being called his girl took second place, you love that he is proud enough to call you his.

From the passenger seat, you sigh, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. In the boot were your packed suitcases, one for Ben and one for yourself.

“I think it’s cowardly.” You say, shyly. You don’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he’s furrowing his eyebrows at your statement, so you follow up,

“Bringing you so you can back me up. Coming this late. Not being able to face this, Miles’ mum.” You lower your voice, “There’s a multitude of things.”

Ben exhales tiredly. He doesn’t try to reply, because he knows there’s no use. Visiting Miles’ - your - family, almost four months after the death of your Dad was, in your mind, cowardly. Why has it taken you this long to make the trip over to France? Why has it taken you this long to face your only family? Guilt - from not answering Miles’ calls and being there for him? Grief - you’ve lost your Dad, someone you looked up to. Gutted - not only have you lost Dad but it feels like you’ve lost Miles too. And you can’t tell which is worse.

It’s a long drive to South East France. Your stomach lurched on the ferry; as much from grief and apprehension as from the tumultuous waves. Now, as the bleak industrial landscape of Northern France blossoms into something more rural, you press your cheek against the cool glass of the window and allow your whirling thoughts to drown in Led Zeppelin II - Ben’s favourite album. Your hazy eyes struggle to take in the bucolic French countryside and before long, you’ve drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The crunch of the gravel under tyres awakens you, as Ben’s car as he pulls into the drive of Miles’ family home. The Nazaire estate was exactly the same as it was when you had last visited five months ago. Positioned high on a hill, the geometric, white house never failed to take your breath away. It was safe to say your surrogate family - as yourself and Miles had long ago agreed they were up - were loaded, and their house definitely showed it.

“Holy…” Ben trails off as he takes in the house. You point out where he should park, and wait. While Ben’s seatbelt clicks and he starts to get out, you stay frozen, almost stuck to the leather seats.

“You coming?” He asks, now out of the car, hand on the top and leaning in to talk to you. He reaches out his hand, which you take, happily accepting his thumb rubbing against you. The small gesture of support is enough to encourage you to get out of the car.

The last time you were in this house, Miles’ Dad was here. You were a complete family. And now it feels like you’re entering an unknown. You haven’t spoken to Miles in months, you feel like a stranger in your safe place. With Ben’s hand in yours, you lead him up the grey cobblestone steps to the front door.

The white washed walls, that had mesmerised you with their radiance before, seemed sterile now; deliberately devoid of the colour of life and love. Cold and still.

You can smell the sickly scent of sedums and lavender, mingled with that of chlorine from the pool. Odours you had not noticed before; that had been drowned by the smoky scent of meat from a barbecue now cold; of fine wine, no-longer poured.

Your feet kick up dust on the winding path; the air tasting dry and lifeless.

Cicadas groan in the blistering heat; the same song they had chirped last summer, rendered mournful now, and lonely.

The knock on the door echoed through the house, leaving you feeling just as hollow. Nerves shot through your body as you awaited the opening of the door.

“Darling!”

Miles’ Mum, Victoria, stood behind the door. A short woman anyway, but had somehow become smaller since you last saw her. Victoria was visually unlike Miles in almost every way - blonde, short, green eyes - but Miles took after her in other aspects. She would drop everything to be there if you called. Artistic and talented. And so, so strong. She’d lost her husband under 6 months ago, and here she was, smiling, and holding her arms out to embrace you.

“Hi Mama.” You whispered, walking easily into her arms. You weren’t much taller than her, but your head fit into her shoulder perfectly.

She let you go before taking a good look at Ben, who, to be honest, you’d forgotten was standing there.

“You must be Ben.” She says. “I’m Victoria.”

“Hi. My condolences for your loss.”

Victoria gives him a hug, ‘He’s hot!’ She mouths at you. Leading you through the house to the pool where Miles and Jessica are, you watch as Ben takes in the lavish interior. The tiled floor is cold against your bare feet as you walk through. Guitars lined the walls, hung and left by their Dad. Untouched, as they would now stay.

There’s a soft, familiar chatting as you exit out of the large doors to the pool. Miles and Jessica sit on grey garden chairs at a table by the pool, sipping from their mugs, with warm pastries - ones Victoria must have made - in front of them.

“Frangine.” [A nickname for close friends/sisters in French]. Jessica notices you first as she’s facing into the house. You’re struck with emotion at the sight of Miles at the table. His hair had grown and been swept carelessly. You didn’t have much time to analyse though as you were quickly encased in Jessica’s arms.

Jessica - who you thought of more as a sister than your real ones - was tall, much like Miles. She had long, dark, curly hair with subtle bangs. She always looked comfortable, sporting oversized knitted jumpers or long floaty dresses. Her smile was always big and made you feel at home. When she finally let go, Miles had risen from the table, waiting behind her for his turn with you.

Hugging Miles felt like exhaling after holding your breath for hours. Despite your mouths saying nothing, the embrace was a sign of forgiveness between the two of you. And suddenly everything felt okay because you had your best friend back. You fit perfectly under his chin, his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. You almost didn’t want him to.

Eventually, he loosened his grip allowing you to step away and return to your spot next to Ben. You introduced him to Jessica, as she’d never met him before, Miles conveniently needing to fill up his coffee mug before having to acknowledge Ben’s presence. He didn’t say ‘Hello’ when he came back to the table either, but you let it go because of circumstance. And so the five of you sat before the pool, talking and catching up and it felt like home.

--

“Miles, you’ll never guess who I saw when I met Ben’s family.”

Yourself and Miles sat in front of the fireplace, each with a glass of wine in your hands, talking as if there were no tomorrow, while Ben and Jessica helped Victoria prepare dinner.

You hesitated before replying, memories flashing through your mind, some good and most bad.

“Who?” Miles pressed, catching onto your hesitance.

“Noah.”

You weren’t expecting Miles’ reaction. Spluttering on the large gulp of wine he’d taken before your answer, he could barely catch his breath to reply. Normally you’d laugh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not about this.

Once he’d finally stopped choking, Miles turned back to you.

“What was that wanker doing at Ben’s?” He asked, venom poisoning his tone.

“Ben’s sister, Holly? He’s her boyfriend.”

Miles audibly gasped, sounding like an older woman gossiping.

“I thought you said Ben had a younger sister?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “Holly is younger than me.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Miles dragged out. “Have you told Ben?”

“How can I?” You say, gesturing to your boyfriend, chopping vegetables with his back to you.

“Oh hun, you have to tell him. If not for you, for Holly.”

You knew he was right. Of course he was. But telling Ben would mean having to tell him everything. And were you ready to let him in? Like, really in?

--

Now tucked into bed after a lovely dinner, you glanced at Ben next to you. He sat, shirtless, reading a book, his arms flexing slightly everytime he turned a page. Your heart could swell just watching him, no matter how mundane.

“You need something, Sweets?” He said, not looking up from his book, causing you to jump.

“Huh?”

“You were staring,” he turns to look at you and you blush, “It’s okay, I don’t blame you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, willing your scorching cheeks to calm down.

“Well actually I have to talk to you about something.”

He closes his book and places it on the bedside table before looking back to you, his attention now solely on you.

“It’s kinda serious, Benny.”

His face falls. He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“When I left your family house that day, it really was because I’d missed loads of calls from Miles, which turned out to be because of…” you trail off, your voice catching.

“Your Dad. I know that already, Sweets.” Ben’s grip tightens slightly around your hand at the sight of the tear rolling down your cheek.

“If there’s something else, tell me.”

There’s no sense of urgency in his voice, but you know he’s desperate to find out.

“When I was leaving,” you start, trying to avoid eye contact with Ben, “Holly and her boyfriend had just walked in, and I bumped into the guy.”

You look up and Ben looks confused but doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“Well, I know her boyfriend.”

“So he’s an ex? I thought that though, love.”

“No, no. He’s not.”

“Then what?”

“He…” You come to a grinding halt. You began to fiddle with Ben’s thumb.

You’d spoken about this once with Miles when it happened and then pushed it down. So far down that until a few weeks ago, you thought it’d disappeared. But here it was again, rearing its ugly head, and forcing you to approach it again.

“He sexually assaulted me, Ben.”

authors note : wow. i've been planning this for so long, the part where she finally tells him and now it's out in the open. stay tuned for her telling him everything. here's some references for this part :)

1. miles' family house

2. nazaire family living room

3. overview of the nazaire family home

i hope you guys like it :) as always please like or reblog

“It’s a secret lair, isn’t it?”

Ben’s face is still with sincerity which only makes you laugh louder at him. He sits across from you at the kitchen island, cup of tea in hand as always, discussing the door under the stairs that leads down into your basement, one he seems distraught to not have explored. Outside, the rain dribbles down the windows, causing freckled shadows against the marble counters.

“I’m just saying, the padlocked door is a little off-putting,” Ben continues, gesturing to the copper lock. You laugh again, snorting as you inhale, which only sets you both off with louder chuckles. “You’re not even denying it!” He whines.

Through breathy laughter you reply, “It’s not an evil lair.”

“HA!”

You look at your boyfriend, confused by his outburst.

“I didn’t say ‘evil,’ that was all you. So, go on, who have you got locked up down there?”

“Benny!” You exclaim, “That’s a bit dark.”

He huffs  in victory, “Still no denial.”

He slaps his hand across his own chest, “Oh God. It’s a sex room, isn’t it?”

Ben leans across the counter, his slender fingers finding the ticklish part of your neck, “Who knew my girl was such a sex freak?”

You recoil, hitting his hand away before replying sarcastically, “Yes, Ben. It’s a red room.”

He acts offended, scoffing, “How come I haven’t been invited in?”

“You’re too vanilla.” You say casually, getting up and sauntering past him to put your mug in the sink.

“Woah, woah, woah,” he stands, following you, “what does that even mean ‘too vanilla?’”

You turn and place your hand on his chest before gently brushing your nails against his top down to the waist of his jeans. You look up at him innocently and shrug. Ben, instantly turned on by your actions, backs you into the counter roughly, but still gently enough not to hurt you. The muscles in his arm flex as he places a hand against the edge of the marble, trapping you between him. Your fingers latch onto the belt notches of his jeans, pulling him closer. He leans in, his pink lips brushing against yours.

“I’ll show you vanilla.” It’s almost a snarl and in one swift movement, he’s lifted you onto the counter and positioned himself between your legs. The summer dress you’re wearing rises up your thighs, giving him access to your skin. His calloused fingers run up and down the outside of your thighs as he attaches his lips to your neck. While leaning your head back to give him more space, you moan, egging him on. He pushes your dress further up your leg, until it pools at your hips.

Slowly, Ben’s pulls away from your skin. The burning sensation rushes through your entire body, craving every inch of him.

“Why did you stop?” You find yourself asking.

Ben smirks the same old smirk that made you fall for him.

He answers with five simple words, “so I could do this.”

Before you can reply, Ben throws his lips against yours. His large hands run up either side of your legs, he slowly wraps his hand around the thong you were wearing and gently pulls it down to your knees. Finally he releases his lips from yours.

“Ben…”

He places a finger over your lips. His free hand helps continue to take off your thong. Once it falls to your ankles, his hand makes its way up to your breast. A gentle squeeze sends fireworks through your body. Your breathing begins to become heavy.

Ben reaches for your throat, gripping tightly. You begin to tingle. After a few seconds, he kisses your neck again but instead of remaining there, he begins to make his way down. Untying the back of your summer dress, Ben watches as it falls to your waist. He makes his way to your breasts and starts sucking on them very gently and you can’t help but wrap your legs around waist, slowly brushing yourself backwards and forwards against his body. Finally, Ben makes his way down once more, this time finding himself pleasuring you within your thighs. Simple strokes with his tongue against your skin make you grab the back of his head and slowly begin moving it faster and faster. His hands still rest on your breasts as your breathing becomes heavy.

“Oh my god.” You moan.

Ben chuckles and he pulls away.

“Don’t stop.” A whine releases itself from your lips and when Ben straightens up, you find yourself face to face once again.

“All in good time,” he says, stroking your hair as he kisses your lips gently. His breath smelt of you. And instead of being disgusted as you had been with other partners. You were enticed. Excited. No. Ecstatic. You wanted him so badly you didn’t care what he smelt like.

“I want you. Right now.” You say to Ben as he begins unbuckling his belt.

“Well then, you better take me to your sex room.”

You smirk, one hand on his chest and one hand pleasuring yourself. You push him back and jump off the counter.

“I want you. NOW.” You pull down his jeans and underwear. As you lower the clothing, you lower with it. Slowly making your way down to begin pleasuring him. Already erect, you hold him in your hands, the warm feeling sending you wild. Brushing him against your lips, you begin lubricating him with your saliva. You look up to see Ben, completely stunned. A smile runs across your face moments before you open your mouth to fit the tip inside. Your tongue circles him. The taste, not as bad as you remember, made you begin groping your breast. Your hand moves down to pleasure yourself as you begin adding more of him into your mouth making him moan loudly.

“Fuck!”

You smile around him. Ben reaches for his pocket to pull out a condom. You stop him.

“Wait.”

Ben looks at you concerned and you quickly reply.

“If you’re not vanilla. Then do we need it?”

He looks at you with shock. “Are you sure?”

You smirk. Your hand slowly starts playing with him once again.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

Ben smirks.

“I want you, Ben. And I want to feel you.”

He picks you up and places you back onto the counter top. Ben places his hand onto himself and he slowly positions himself correctly. He rubs himself against you, using you to lubricate himself. Your breathing becomes heavy again. In a swift movement, you pull him into you. Just the tip at first, driving you wild, craving more and more until every inch of him was inside of you.

“Oh my god. Ben.”

Your breathing becomes heavier and heavier as you lean into him, kissing him.

He moans into your lips,“I love you.”

Three words you cling to as you stare into his eyes. “I love you too.”

Ben slowly begins thrusting backwards and forwards. Giving himself to you, just as much as you were giving yourself to him.

Your hands on his chest slowly trace the curves in his body. The two of you reach your climax together. You sit there on the counter, staring into his eyes as he stares into yours, sweaty foreheads against each other.

Man, oh, man. What have you got yourself into?

--

“Hey,” Ben places a supportive hand on your knee, keeping his other hand tight on the steering wheel, “I think you’re really brave for doing this, Sweets.”

Sweets. One of many nicknames Ben had come up with for you; Sweets, My Girl, Gorgeous, Sunny. Some were corny like ‘Squishy’ or ‘Bubs’ but Sweets is your favourite so far. Although being called his girl took second place, you love that he is proud enough to call you his.

From the passenger seat, you sigh, fiddling with your fingers in your lap. In the boot were your packed suitcases, one for Ben and one for yourself.

“I think it’s cowardly.” You say, shyly. You don’t have to look at your boyfriend to know he’s furrowing his eyebrows at your statement, so you follow up,

“Bringing you so you can back me up. Coming this late. Not being able to face this, Miles’ mum.” You lower your voice, “There’s a multitude of things.”

Ben exhales tiredly. He doesn’t try to reply, because he knows there’s no use. Visiting Miles’ - your - family, almost four months after the death of your Dad was, in your mind, cowardly. Why has it taken you this long to make the trip over to France? Why has it taken you this long to face your only family? Guilt - from not answering Miles’ calls and being there for him? Grief - you’ve lost your Dad, someone you looked up to. Gutted - not only have you lost Dad but it feels like you’ve lost Miles too. And you can’t tell which is worse.

It’s a long drive to South East France. Your stomach lurched on the ferry; as much from grief and apprehension as from the tumultuous waves. Now, as the bleak industrial landscape of Northern France blossoms into something more rural, you press your cheek against the cool glass of the window and allow your whirling thoughts to drown in Led Zeppelin II - Ben’s favourite album. Your hazy eyes struggle to take in the bucolic French countryside and before long, you’ve drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The crunch of the gravel under tyres awakens you, as Ben’s car as he pulls into the drive of Miles’ family home. The Nazaire estate was exactly the same as it was when you had last visited five months ago. Positioned high on a hill, the geometric, white house never failed to take your breath away. It was safe to say your surrogate family - as yourself and Miles had long ago agreed they were up - were loaded, and their house definitely showed it.

“Holy…” Ben trails off as he takes in the house. You point out where he should park, and wait. While Ben’s seatbelt clicks and he starts to get out, you stay frozen, almost stuck to the leather seats.

“You coming?” He asks, now out of the car, hand on the top and leaning in to talk to you. He reaches out his hand, which you take, happily accepting his thumb rubbing against you. The small gesture of support is enough to encourage you to get out of the car.

The last time you were in this house, Miles’ Dad was here. You were a complete family. And now it feels like you’re entering an unknown. You haven’t spoken to Miles in months, you feel like a stranger in your safe place. With Ben’s hand in yours, you lead him up the grey cobblestone steps to the front door.

The white washed walls, that had mesmerised you with their radiance before, seemed sterile now; deliberately devoid of the colour of life and love. Cold and still.

You can smell the sickly scent of sedums and lavender, mingled with that of chlorine from the pool. Odours you had not noticed before; that had been drowned by the smoky scent of meat from a barbecue now cold; of fine wine, no-longer poured.

Your feet kick up dust on the winding path; the air tasting dry and lifeless.

Cicadas groan in the blistering heat; the same song they had chirped last summer, rendered mournful now, and lonely.

The knock on the door echoed through the house, leaving you feeling just as hollow. Nerves shot through your body as you awaited the opening of the door.

“Darling!”

Miles’ Mum, Victoria, stood behind the door. A short woman anyway, but had somehow become smaller since you last saw her. Victoria was visually unlike Miles in almost every way - blonde, short, green eyes - but Miles took after her in other aspects. She would drop everything to be there if you called. Artistic and talented. And so, so strong. She’d lost her husband under 6 months ago, and here she was, smiling, and holding her arms out to embrace you.

“Hi Mama.” You whispered, walking easily into her arms. You weren’t much taller than her, but your head fit into her shoulder perfectly.

She let you go before taking a good look at Ben, who, to be honest, you’d forgotten was standing there.

“You must be Ben.” She says. “I’m Victoria.”

“Hi. My condolences for your loss.”

Victoria gives him a hug, ‘He’s hot!’ She mouths at you. Leading you through the house to the pool where Miles and Jessica are, you watch as Ben takes in the lavish interior. The tiled floor is cold against your bare feet as you walk through. Guitars lined the walls, hung and left by their Dad. Untouched, as they would now stay.

There’s a soft, familiar chatting as you exit out of the large doors to the pool. Miles and Jessica sit on grey garden chairs at a table by the pool, sipping from their mugs, with warm pastries - ones Victoria must have made - in front of them.

“Frangine.” [A nickname for close friends/sisters in French]. Jessica notices you first as she’s facing into the house. You’re struck with emotion at the sight of Miles at the table. His hair had grown and been swept carelessly. You didn’t have much time to analyse though as you were quickly encased in Jessica’s arms.

Jessica - who you thought of more as a sister than your real ones - was tall, much like Miles. She had long, dark, curly hair with subtle bangs. She always looked comfortable, sporting oversized knitted jumpers or long floaty dresses. Her smile was always big and made you feel at home. When she finally let go, Miles had risen from the table, waiting behind her for his turn with you.

Hugging Miles felt like exhaling after holding your breath for hours. Despite your mouths saying nothing, the embrace was a sign of forgiveness between the two of you. And suddenly everything felt okay because you had your best friend back. You fit perfectly under his chin, his arms wrapped around your shoulders tightly, as if he never wanted to let go. You almost didn’t want him to.

Eventually, he loosened his grip allowing you to step away and return to your spot next to Ben. You introduced him to Jessica, as she’d never met him before, Miles conveniently needing to fill up his coffee mug before having to acknowledge Ben’s presence. He didn’t say ‘Hello’ when he came back to the table either, but you let it go because of circumstance. And so the five of you sat before the pool, talking and catching up and it felt like home.

--

“Miles, you’ll never guess who I saw when I met Ben’s family.”

Yourself and Miles sat in front of the fireplace, each with a glass of wine in your hands, talking as if there were no tomorrow, while Ben and Jessica helped Victoria prepare dinner.

You hesitated before replying, memories flashing through your mind, some good and most bad.

“Who?” Miles pressed, catching onto your hesitance.

“Noah.”

You weren’t expecting Miles’ reaction. Spluttering on the large gulp of wine he’d taken before your answer, he could barely catch his breath to reply. Normally you’d laugh, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not about this.

Once he’d finally stopped choking, Miles turned back to you.

“What was that wanker doing at Ben’s?” He asked, venom poisoning his tone.

“Ben’s sister, Holly? He’s her boyfriend.”

Miles audibly gasped, sounding like an older woman gossiping.

“I thought you said Ben had a younger sister?”

“Yeah,” you nodded slowly, “Holly is younger than me.”

“Fuuuuuck.” Miles dragged out. “Have you told Ben?”

“How can I?” You say, gesturing to your boyfriend, chopping vegetables with his back to you.

“Oh hun, you have to tell him. If not for you, for Holly.”

You knew he was right. Of course he was. But telling Ben would mean having to tell him everything. And were you ready to let him in? Like, really in?

--

Now tucked into bed after a lovely dinner, you glanced at Ben next to you. He sat, shirtless, reading a book, his arms flexing slightly everytime he turned a page. Your heart could swell just watching him, no matter how mundane.

“You need something, Sweets?” He said, not looking up from his book, causing you to jump.

“Huh?”

“You were staring,” he turns to look at you and you blush, “It’s okay, I don’t blame you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, willing your scorching cheeks to calm down.

“Well actually I have to talk to you about something.”

He closes his book and places it on the bedside table before looking back to you, his attention now solely on you.

“It’s kinda serious, Benny.”

His face falls. He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin.

“When I left your family house that day, it really was because I’d missed loads of calls from Miles, which turned out to be because of…” you trail off, your voice catching.

“Your Dad. I know that already, Sweets.” Ben’s grip tightens slightly around your hand at the sight of the tear rolling down your cheek.

“If there’s something else, tell me.”

There’s no sense of urgency in his voice, but you know he’s desperate to find out.

“When I was leaving,” you start, trying to avoid eye contact with Ben, “Holly and her boyfriend had just walked in, and I bumped into the guy.”

You look up and Ben looks confused but doesn’t say anything, so you continue.

“Well, I know her boyfriend.”

“So he’s an ex? I thought that though, love.”

“No, no. He’s not.”

“Then what?”

“He…” You come to a grinding halt. You began to fiddle with Ben’s thumb.

You’d spoken about this once with Miles when it happened and then pushed it down. So far down that until a few weeks ago, you thought it’d disappeared. But here it was again, rearing its ugly head, and forcing you to approach it again.

“He sexually assaulted me, Ben.”

authors note : wow. i've been planning this for so long, the part where she finally tells him and now it's out in the open. stay tuned for her telling him everything. here's some references for this part :)

1. miles' family house

2. nazaire family living room

3. overview of the nazaire family home

i hope you guys like it :) as always please like or reblog