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miheartsedthings · 6 days

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Part Seven

NSFW ModernBilly x FemReader (Minors DNI)

Summary: Nancy isn't impressed with how you're handling your relationship with Billy, leading to a confrontation neither of you saw coming.

Warnings: Fighting, Angst, Dubious consent, pregnancy risk.

At first, you didn't notice the faces Nancy was making as you told your story. You sat across from her at lunch, so caught up in the details, adding dramatic flourish to make the whole thing as fresh for her as it was for you. The fight with Billy which had felt relationship-ending. The smashed vases and Molly Kellerman. Then, the apology. You arrived at the little slip of envelope with heartfelt joy, which is when you finally noticed her. She was staring back at you with skeptical eyes, one of her brows cocked in judgment. You shrunk, finally understanding why people called her Princess Wheeler.

“What?” You asked. She sighed.

“Well, I mean, I know you like him but…are you really gonna forgive him just like that?”

You were a little taken aback.

“I mean…I know we have a lot to work on. But he apologized and that's not easy for him.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, he apologized for one thing and then did like 50 additional things wrong.”

“It's complicated, Nancy.”

“Is it? I mean listen to the story you just told me. He was being violent and disrespectful at Amber's house, which probably cost her parents lots of money. Then he was almost inside another girl when you caught him-”

“He wasn't gonna go through with it.”

“Yeah, so he says. You put way too much faith in him when his actions are telling a whole different story.”

You couldn't help feeling hurt by this. Defensive in the face of her accusations.

“I already made it clear that his behavior has to change. He knows that. But no one gets by in life without making mistakes. Sometimes you have to be patient with people.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Is it patience, or is it being a doormat?”

Anger flared up in you.

“Take that back,” you said. “maybe I'm more forgiving than others but I'm not a doormat.”

“I will not take it back! He's hurting my friend, how am I supposed to forgive that?”

“Forget I said anything.”

You gathered your stuff and stood to leave, making her stand, too. She rushed after you as you went out into the hall.

“Y/N, you know I’m right. You’re being blinded by your feelings for him and it’s making you dumb!.”

You spun to face her, the two of you were alone in the hall now, your raising voices echoing down the empty corridor.

“If you think I’m so dumb why are you friends with me?” You asked.

“I didn’t say you’re dumb, I said he’s making you act dumb.”

“It’s crazy how little faith you have in me. Don’t you think I could tell if someone was taking advantage of me?”

“Obviously you can’t,” she spit back, “Do you know how many girls like you my mom sees at the clinic? They mess up their lives over some pathetic asshole. I never thought you’d be like one of them, but maybe you are.”

Her words stung you quiet and you fell back a step, searching her face.

“Are you serious?”

“Y/n-”

“As if your mom has room to talk.”

Something flickered through her eyes.

“Excuse you?”

“I’ve seen your mom at the pool, Nanc. Eye-fucking a seventeen year old kid whenever she gets the chance. She’s like a cat in heat, it’s gross.”

Her gaze went cold.

“Shut up.”

“Why? If she’s gonna look down at other women we might as well talk about her. Do you know what kind of shit she used to text Billy when he first moved here? Your dad would have a heartattack.”

Her eyes were burning with anger.

“As if he doesn’t toss himself around. As if he wouldn’t bang anything with legs if he wasn’t with you. Hell, he probably does it anyway.”

Your hand flew before you can stop it, making contact with Nancy’s already reddened cheek. The two of you shared a moment of stunned silence before she lashed out at you. Suddenly, the two of you were exchanging blows. A crowd quickly gathers, jeering and hollering as you two wrestle each other to the ground, slapping and clawing and then punching each other. She got a fistful of your hair as you swung blindly, making contact though you couldn’t see where.

“Hey! HEY!”

Someone’s yanking you up but the two of you clawed and kicked, desperate to inflict as much pain as possible. Then, you were pulled away, all you saw of her was a rat’s nest of brown hair and blood before you were whisked off to the principal's office. All of it was over in less than a minute.

You sat in the office with an ice pack on your fist. The side of your head was ringing with pain from where your former best friend had taken a fistful of your hair. You rolled over the fight with Nancy in your mind, amazed at the violence you'd shown each other. Two hours ago, you never could've imagined hitting her, yet you had. Then again, you never thought she'd be so judgemental. Sure, you can admit, she's not wrong to worry about Billy, but it isn't her place to force you into anything. You have your boundaries, and if the time ever came when he crossed the line, you would leave Billy. You know you would. Until then, she should understand.

“Ms. L/n,”

You looked up to see the secretary waving you into the inner office where the principal's was. On the way in, you passed Nancy and her mom. Nancy held an ice pack to her cheek and avoided your eyes. Her mother, on the other hand, glared at you. You received a week of detention and of course, they called your mom. Leaving the office you saw Billy waiting for you in the hall. His eyes went wide when he sees you, already unable to contain his mishievious smile.

“Tell me you’re not skipping class,” you said, dragging your feet to him.

“Baby, what the fuck? You and Wheeler?”

You sighed, a headache still thumping through your skull.

“Don’t even ask.”

“Don’t need to,” he says. He turned your head to one side and then the other, examining you for damage. “She couldn’t touch you.” he added with a smirk. You couldn’t help being pleased by this, but groaned and fell into his arms. He pat your back. “C’mon, you’re alright.”

You rubbed your eyes, mumbling into his chest.

“God, my mom’s gonna be pissed.”

“Come over to mine. Old man’s in Nevada on business.”

You shook your sore head.

“And piss her off more? What am I even gonna say when she asks me what happened?”

“Tell er Wheeler’s a bitch,” you can’t help chuckling.

“Stop,” you whined.

He rubbed your shoulder as the bell rang. At the same time, your phone vibrated in your pocket. Your mom was there to pick you up.

“Why? That’s what happened, right?”

You looked up at him, finally, and noticed that behind all his joking and his lighthearted smirk was a hard stone of concern.

“She’s worried, which, on Nancy, looks like being a bitch. And she said some really off the wall shit about me and about you, and when I told her the truth about her mom she didn’t take it well.”

He scoffed, pulling your tired body into a hug.

“Don’t say I never warned you.”

“You warned me,” you admitted, “But fuck.”

. . .

“So you’re the bitch who fights her friends over a boy?”

You sat watching the trees roll by the window, regretting the grind of your mom’s voice against your ears, reviving the last of your headache.

“No,” you said. You’re careful to keep your voice clear of any edge.

“No? That’s what you did, isn’t it? She told you some hard truth about that raggedy boy and you got so mad-”

“Why are you taking her side?”

“I’m not taking her side, obviously you beat her ass, now it’s time to deal with you. You think it’s cute fighting over some boy? You think that’s gonna get you somewhere in life?”

What a dumb question. You conceal your eye-roll.

“No.”

“What did she say? I wanna know what’s worth getting in a fight and jeopardizing your future.”

The car fell into an agitated silence as she waited for you to speak. You sat there leaning against the door, leg bouncing, eyes closed, praying for the thumping in your brain to stop. You saw Nancy’s face, flushed in indignation. Embarrassment crept up your throat when you remembered how excited you’d been to tell her about the little note. The tiny victory of Billy’s apology. It was a victory, but it isn’t exactly untrue that Billy’s behavior has to change. So why does it feel so shitty the way she says it?

“Not gonna tell me? Then it must be about that boy.”

Your head rung and you squeezed your eyes shut as hard as you could. When you arrived home, you made a direct line for the stairs, only to be called back by your dad who extended his hand.

“Phone,” he said. You groaned and handed it over, watching him turn it off (Thankfully. Your life would truly be in danger if they discovered your text thread with Billy) and place it on a high shelf in the pantry. You spent your evening absorbed in homework before getting ready for bed early. By then your headache had faded, and all that’s left of the fight was the lingering hurt of lost friendship. No matter how you tried to lay there without thinking, your mind scrolled back to the fun you’d had at the party. The way she’d been there for you during the pregnancy scare and spent the whole day cheering you up. A painful feeling sank into your chest at the thought that you’d never talk to her again.

Maybe you had been a bad friend to her. It wasn’t impossible to imagine. You did get selfish sometimes, and Billy took up a lot of your emotional energy. For all you knew, Nancy had been going through things herself and never felt she was able to tell you. Then, the thought flips on its side. How were you supposed to know she needed support if she never said it? You flipped over, unable to find comfort. It’s not your fault she held things in and got all full of resentment. So why do you feel like you failed?

Maybe you were being stupid about Billy…maybe a little more pliant and patient than a person ought to be. You’ve only been together a handful of months and he’s made you cry so many times. There’s plenty of reason to break up. Except that the thought of it turns your stomach.

You flipped onto your back with a sigh, staring at the darkened ceiling. Okay, so maybe you were accepting more than you should from him, but it was only to balance out all the contrary treatment he’d gotten thus far. You saw the stark lack of people in his life who loved and prioritized him. Rarely, if ever has he felt safe, and after spending years like that, especially formative years, one can’t be expected to be a perfect partner right off the bat.

You had your boundaries with his behavior, you made your feelings known, and in the best way he could, he honored them. Plus, he was getting better all the time. You were certain he’d only keep developing the skills to be a better partner and if he didn’t…you flipped onto your stomach.

If things never changed and your relationship remained in a cycle of secrecy and blame…then you’d handle it. Meaning, of course, you’d leave. The pain in your chest was re-doubled to imagine this. A lost friend, and then a lost love. And what would that make you?

Your thoughts carried on in a similar, muddled fashion for the next hour until the strain in your body finally pulled you into a dreamless sleep. Two little taps woke you up. You laid there blinking in darkness trying to register your surroundings, then it happens again. Two tiny clicks against glass. Your eyes went to the window and after a moment you realized what you were seeing. A hand tapping the glass.

You hopped up, rubbing your eyes and crossed the room quickly. When you let Billy in, he was careful to swing his legs into the room without a sound. You took his shoes and tucked them under your study table, where a towel was waiting for them. You'd come to think of it as his Welcome mat. He took you into a hug and, still groggy, you sagged against his body. He closed the window and half carried you to bed where he laid you down before shedding a couple layers. His jacket and jeans got tucked under the bed, and he crawled under the blanket with you in his boxer briefs and T-shirt.

His warmth filled in the space behind you as his body came in flush with yours. He trailed a few kisses along your neck and ear, a little sigh expressing his contentment. You made your own small sound, wiggling back to press yourself into his body.

“Couldn't sleep?”

Your voice was low, hardly rising above a whisper. Billy was holding you across the torso with one arm, while the other found your hands and laced his fingers in with yours.

“You never told me the full story.” He said. His breath was soft against your ear, rising goosebumps along your neck.

“Mmm. Nothing to tell.”

There was a stretch of quiet. In it were little gestures, the slow swipe of his thumb across your knuckles, his teeth nibbling the lobe of your ear. You knew what he was asking. Of course, he'd want to know what had driven you to fight your best friend, but you couldn't say it.

“Well, if it was nothing then you shouldn't have kicked her ass over it,” he said with a little chuckle.

Something about that struck a nerve.

“I told you she said something fucked up,” you said. He sensed the tension in your body and turned his face into your neck, as you spoke, breathing softly, his arm curling yours in so he was hugging all of you to his chest. “why do you even wanna know?”

Now, he had you all collected in his arms, and you couldn't deny how good it felt. How happy you were that he'd shown up. You turned your head until your lips are close enough to touch. He returned the kiss with that private urgency which sometimes took him over. It seems he needed something just as much as you did. He props himself up on his elbow so he could look down at you, the lamppost light outside your window offering plenty of visibility.

“I won't get mad.”

You hadn't been prepared for those gentle words. They slipped right through your defenses and pierced you. He was looking at you so sincerely. And so, quietly, you explained the upsetting back and forth from that morning. All the while he watched with intent focus, and remarkable patience. Proving your point all along. You didn't know that he'd ever been so quiet and non-defensive while hearing someone's unkind opinions about him. As you explained, your eyes took breaks from his, falling to where your fingers idly twirled a loc of blond curls.

When you finished, you found yourself exhausted, your chest aching again. Your eyes burning.

“So that's it.” You finish, “she's not my friend anymore.”

Your voice broke and he pulled you close, kissing your forehead. He said you were fine. You didn't need her, and you knew the intent was to uplift but you just felt smaller. You tried to swallow the first sob that came out, but he was so close he heard it and hugged you closer. Kissing your neck.

“Baby,” he said, softly. He wanted to say more. He wanted to kiss your ear and say baby, my little baby. Really suffocate you with the full force of his affection. But still, even with you, he was terrified of being overwhelmed by these emotions. He wanted to love and care for you from a solid place where he could remain in control of himself. If he spoke too much tonight he knew he would cry. Which he couldn't allow. Not while it was your turn to cry and his turn to comfort. So he fell quiet, and rocked you a little in his arms.

He kept you. Kissing your neck and holding you so close, and inside regret and anger needled you. You could used more words from him. Added reassurances.

“She wouldn't listen to me,” you added this useless detail, hoping it triggered extra comforting and he did amp up the tender caressing of your back. He told you she was wrong not to listen. A real friend would listen. But it all served to make you sadder, and you started to cry harder than you could contain. Nancy was your only friend in this town. The only one with whom you could talk about anything without worrying she'd get angry. At least, you thought she was. The loss was monumental and you cried shuddering sobs into Billy's shoulder.

The more you cried, the more desperately Billy wanted to calm you. Rubbing and kissing wasn't working, you were heartbroken over the loss of your friend. As much as he was battling to keep the thought at bay, he knew it was his fault. The way he was had hurt you yet again. Left you inconsolable. Something in him threatened to break apart if he couldn't fix it. A shiver invaded his body, a thin shudder under the skin of his hands as he held you, touching, rubbing, searching for the friction you needed.

Shoulders and hips, he massaged down your back and kneaded your ass. All the while you cried. Shattering him. He wanted to say he was sorry for fucking up your friendship. An urgent desire to be forgiven coiled tight in his chest, a taut rubberband threatening to snap. He made a sound, then stifled it by kissing you. His cheeks wet with your tears, his mouth swallowing your mewling sobs. His tongue tasting your salt. His hand was under your chin and you felt it as an insistence to remember that he loved you. In actuality, he couldn't risk you turning away.

You could’ve easily turned out of his kiss in disgust. Realizing that he was the problem all along. He wasn't worth the trouble. He kissed you harder, stealing your breath, and in a sudden flush of inspiration, sought to overwhelm you. If you couldn't think, you couldn't come to the truth. He rushed, not exactly gentle as his hands removed your thin t shirt and panties. His own nakedness coming so abruptly you were startled by the rush of his skin, his hardness pushed between your spreading thighs. All the while he kept you tangled in frenzied kissing.

You broke away just enough to breathe and already he was pushing into you.

“Billy.” your voice was soft and warbled and useless. He shoved his length into you, earning a strangled whimper from your chest. His hand curled around your neck in an effort to keep you quiet and still. Your hand found his chest while the other grabbed his wrist, and yet you knew there was no fighting it. There wasn’t air enough to breathe let alone speak, and truthfully, he felt good inside you. As always.

His mouth was hot and full of need and his weight rolled onto you as he buried himself fully inside. You were filled to the brink, certain if he was any bigger you couldn't handle it. A chesty groan vibrated in you, in the relative silence of the room, the slight squeaking of bedsprings. He fucked you deeply but without much speed, his skin flush to yours, and suddenly you felt like he was trying to hide all of himself within you. His whole body burrowed to your center where he could remain.

You realized then that he was feeling something he hadn't explained. His face was obscured, either in kissing you and thus too close to observe, or tucked sweetly into your neck. You pulled his hand from your throat and he rested it on your clavicle. You kissed his cheek a few times, and then his neck. You lifted your hips to meet the rutting of his. He was heavy, his hot skin forcing you to sweat, but you felt no desire to escape.

You came with his hand clamped over your mouth, legs shuddering around him while he muttered curses into the clammy skin of your neck. Your insides were slick with cum, but your head was too cloudy to worry about that. That would be tomorrow's problem. For now, you let yourself be held, and fell asleep thinking of nothing.

. . .

In the morning Billy was gone, your window cracked. You rushed to the bathroom full of anxieties. The risk of a UTI the most pressing. Luckily, emptying your bladder felt as it always did and you were free to move on to the next issue. Pregnancy. You’d need money for a pill and thought all through your morning routine about how to get it. Finally, you settled on telling your parents the school was fundraising for a children’s hospital. It’s a terrible thing to lie about, but you figured in a roundabout way it was alright. They’d think they were helping sick kids and really they were preventing unwanted grandchildren. These things were in a similar vein.

“Nancy’s giving 60,” you said to them over a quick breakfast.

“Oh? And that matters to you why? I thought you didn’t fuck with her.” Your mom said, giving you cool, scrutinizing eyes. You turned your back to retrieve orange juice.

“We’re not funding any silly feuds between you and your friends,” your dad added.

“There’s no feud,” you said, pouring yourself a glass. “I just don’t wanna be the only one giving less.”

You knew that would get them. As much as they didn’t want you to realize it, your parents compared themselves to other people. They didn’t like the idea of you doing the same. They looked at each other for a long moment, and you saw their desire to discourage this behavior butting up against their need to be on par or superior to other families in town. They gave you 70.

To be continued ~

Thanks for reading ~

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