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snowkestrel · 19 hours ago

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(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Twenty-One

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Some smutty behaviour and sickness/fever mentions. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 6k

A/N : 😅

Master List

Chapter Twenty-One

You drifted in and out of sleep that night.

Not because of nightmares or the stress of everything that had happened, but because you just couldn’t lay still.

One minute you were kicking off the covers in a desperate attempt to stay cool, and the next time you woke up you’d crossed onto Billy’s side of the bed and were pressed tight against his back for warmth. Your throat was dry and you had to stifle your coughing with your hand, trying to be quiet, though you weren’t even sure that Billy was asleep.

Regardless of your fidgeting, he kept his back to you, whether you were pressing closer to him or pulling away.

And in your exhausted, groggy state, you couldn’t blame him.

Part of you wanted to shake him awake, to apologise to him, to beg him to hold you and help soothe you to sleep like he’d done so many times before. But you didn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair.

After hours of restless sleep you woke, dazed and bleary eyed, pulling the covers over your head to escape the morning light that was creeping in through the thin curtains. You turned onto your side and edged towards Billy’s side of the bed only to find it cold and empty.

Sitting up, you realised that he was already awake, sitting on the sofa against the opposite wall. His laptop was on his lap and he was dressed in nothing but his boxers. You couldn’t stop yourself from sighing, hating that he’d slipped out of bed before you woke up.

He gave you a questioning look when he noticed you were awake, but didn’t say anything.

“You could’ve stayed in bed,” you said, leaning back against the headboard.

“I thought you didn’t want me anywhere near you after last night.”

Your heart lurched painfully in your chest, his words cutting deep.

“When did I say that? I never said that,” you answered back.

“You made it pretty clear last night that -”

“That - what? That I was upset?” You kicked off the covers but didn’t get up. “You knew everyone was talking about me and you kept it from me. All day yesterday, I had people asking me how I was feeling and if I was okay because they think I’m pregnant.”

“They don’t anymore,” he said firmly. “I sorted it. I made sure they all know that it’s bullshit.”

“You still should have told me.”

“You’re right, I should have.”

You hadn’t expected him to agree so easily, and it knocked some of the wind from your sails, leaving you feeling annoyed but not entirely sure why.

“What’s your excuse for the other times?” You asked.

“What?”

“You - you never stay in bed with me,” you said, your voice cracking a little under the weight of your words. “One second you’re all over me and then you’re pulling away...”

“What are you saying?” He asked and you didn’t answer, too embarrassed to find the words. “Are you saying you wanted to wake up beside me? That you want me near you?”

“Of course I do. Do you really think I’d still be here, after everything that’s happened, if I didn’t want to be near you?” You said, the words spilling from you and revealing what you’d spent weeks trying to hide. “I know that’s not what you want, but I just -”

Billy stood suddenly, stalking towards the bed. You couldn’t help but take in the sight of him, his toned chest and the scars that littered his pale skin, the taut lines of muscle that you longed to explore with your fingers and tongue, and down to his fitted boxers that left little to the imagination.

There was something almost predatory in the way he cleared the space, something that simultaneously filled you with uncertainty and arousal.

“You want me near you? In bed with you?” He asked, stopping at the foot of the bed.

Before you could answer, his hands were on your ankle, and he pulled you from your sitting position and down the bed.

“Billy, what -” but you stopped the second you saw the hungry look in his eyes.

You’d assumed that he was angry with you for crossing the line and finally admitting that you wanted him, but that wasn’t it at all.

It wasn’t anger on his face, it was need, desire.

He was desperate for you.

“Have I been neglecting you, my little dove?” He asked in a low rumble.

My little dove?

(Yes. Yes. His.)

His grip shifted around your ankles and his fingers gave a sharp tug on your pyjama bottoms, pulling them down your legs. You gasped at the suddenness of it and instinctively pressed your thighs together. Billy’s expression darkened, chest heaving as he took a ragged breath.

“Open your legs,” he said.

A demand, but a choice too. It was his way of asking if you wanted it.

And you did want it, though the thought of refusing just to see if he’d wrench your legs apart briefly crossed your mind. You knew he wouldn’t, that he wouldn’t push unless he was absolutely certain and, given the last couple of weeks, you couldn’t blame him for not being entirely sure of what you wanted.

So, you did as you were told, parting your legs for him, making space between your thighs for him.

The bed dipped as he climbed on, into the space you had created for him. You trembled as his hand trailed up your leg to the apex of your thighs. By the time his fingers slipped between your folds, you were already wet for him.

He let out a low groan at how wet you were, as if he’d been worried that wouldn’t be the case, as if he’d dared think even for a moment that you were as affected by this as much as he was.

His eyes fixed on your and he easily slid two fingers into the waiting heat of your body.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked as his fingers started to move. “Is this how you wanted me to wake you up this morning?”

You didn’t answer, too terrified of what you really wanted to be honest with him. Pleasure quickly started to mount and you bit down hard on your lip, trying to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you.

“No? This isn’t what you wanted?” He said.

You keened as his finger withdrew, but any sense of loss was short-lived. Billy moved before you could think to complain, leaning down and burying his face between your thighs.

He let out a sound not unlike a growl as his tongue slid through your arousal and you back arched to meet him.

There was something different to the other times he’d been between your legs, his tongue eagerly lapping against your clit. There was something unrestrained, almost feral about it, like he’d been held back all this time and he was finally letting you see just how much he wanted.

When you squirmed and tried to pull back from the tongue that was driving you to the edge of your sanity, his arms wrapped around your thighs and held you in place. You’d get no respite, no reprieve until he was done with you.

Something he had definitely changed between you, and the strange peace you’d managed to find with him had broken.

But he didn’t give you any time or space to think about what this was or who you were to each other now. He assaulted your senses with tongue, lips and teeth, making sure the only thing you could think about was him.

You back bowed off the bed as you came, but Billy didn’t let go, didn’t stop.

You had to grab a pillow and press it to your face to keep everyone else in the house from overhearing your cries of pleasure as you writhed beneath him.

His fingers slipped inside of you again, bending and flexing, finding that special place inside of you that had you moaning his name into the pillow. You came again so easily, so violently, your body reacting to him and only him.

Billy crawled over you as your body trembled and, before you knew it, he was on top of you, tearing the pillow away from your face so he could see you. His hips slotted between your thighs and you felt the unmistakable bulge of his erection straining beneath his boxers.

Instinctively, you ground your hips against his, and Billy started to move with you.

A low whine spilled from you as his thumb ghosted your lips - it wasn’t what you wanted, and he knew it now. And, from the way he looked at you, you were almost certain he didn’t want it either. Reaching for him, you curled your fingers in his hair, tugging, pulling him down as you lifted your head, desperate to kiss him.

Billy pulled back a fraction, a frown darkening his expression, the shift of his hips faltering.

An unasked question passed between you, but you didn’t know what to say.

It had been your rule and, though you’d broken it last night, Billy still wasn’t sure.

But this wasn’t part of your agreement - what you were doing, what you wanted from him - it had nothing to do with it. This wasn’t some playful act of submission to help him with his control issues, and it wasn’t to sell your fake relationship.

This was you beneath him, wanting him. No games, no pretences.

Before you could think of a way to make him understand what you wanted, a bell sounded somewhere in the house and completely shattered the moment.

Breakfast.

For a wonderful second his eyes remained fixed on yours and you dared to hope that he was going to kiss you. Then he pulled away and dropped onto the bed beside you, staring up at the ceiling.

The bell rang again and you sighed.

“I’ll...” you started, sounding breathless, “I’ll go use the bathroom.”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even lift his head as you scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom.

You tried to push what had happened to the back of your mind. It was something you’d become accustomed to; compartmentalising every moment with him that you dared to hope meant something. What had just happened on the bed, the way he’d looked at you, the way it had felt like he wanted you as much as you wanted him, that would all be filed away with everything else you would talk about when you got back to New York.

Once you were washed and dressed, you slipped out of the bathroom and watched as Billy disappeared inside, barely able to look you in the eye as he passed.

It wasn’t long before he appeared again, wearing a dark pair of linen pants and a blue shirt that was fitted enough to hit at the toned chest you knew was beneath. Billy looked at you as you took in the sight of him but, instead of his gaze dropping to your legs or breasts, it stayed fixed on your face.

“You’re still tired,” he said as if he was only just realising it. As if he was blaming himself.

“I’m okay.”

The lie came easily - perhaps a little too easily - but Billy didn’t seem to want to argue. He just offered you his hand and led you to breakfast.

You noticed the change in everyone the moment you sat down. Catherine had saved a spot for you and Billy near the head of the table, next to Leah. The strange looks and prying gazes were nowhere to be found and, actually, you noticed that people were trying not to look at you.

Clearly you weren’t so interesting now that they knew you weren’t pregnant with your boss’ child.

As you sank back in your chair, getting comfortable, Billy set about getting you breakfast. It was strange how used to it you’d become, letting him fill a plate with all the things he knew that you liked, along with things that were good for you.

When he was done and you had a full plate, a mug of coffee, and a glass of fresh juice in front of you, you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Did you sleep?” Catherine asked, pulling your attention from your waffles to her.

The fact that she asked if you’d slept and not how well, was telling.

You shrugged. “A little. I’m a light sleeper and it took me a while to get used to all the strange sounds.”

Billy gave a hum of agreement. “We don’t get a lot of gulls flying over the penthouse.”

“They can be loud,” Catherine agreed, satisfied with your answer.

“I like the gulls,” Leah offered.

From there the conversation became an easy and meandering thing, everyone making little comments about the differences between the city and the coast. It was simple, easy, and it pulled attention away from you.

As always, you caught Billy’s little glances, watching you to make sure you ate enough, and that you finished your juice once your coffee was gone. You forced yourself to eat even though your appetite was non-existent, simply because you didn’t want him to worry.

At some point, between clearing most of your plate and sitting back to sip your coffee, John struck up a conversation with Billy, asking if he’d seen any of the classic cars in the garage. What followed was a lengthy conversation about cars - something else that you didn’t realise Billy had strong opinions about. And, when John asked if he’d like to see the Van Der Koy’s car collection, Billy looked at you.

Standing in a garage listening to them talk horsepower was not how you wanted to spend your morning.

“You go ahead,” you said. “I want to call Seb and make sure he’s okay.”

Billy’s expression softened and he gave you one of those smiles, then he nodded.

You excused yourself from breakfast a few minutes after Billy and John disappeared, and headed back up to the room. Initially you’d thought that you’d call Seb from the balcony, but when you looked outside and saw how calm and quiet the beach was, you quickly changed your mind.

After changing into beach appropriate clothes and grabbing a towel, you headed outside, and spent the next hour sitting on the beach on a video call with your brother. First you showed him the beach and the ocean, making a silent promise to yourself to take him for a day out in the summer when the weather was nicer, then you sat back and read to him until he got too restless to stay still.

It was nice to be able to see him even though you were hours away, but it wasn’t the same as being able to give him a hug.

You knew that you should probably head back to the house, that Billy would probably be looking for you and it would be lunch time soon, but the cool breeze felt too nice, and you were comfortable. So, you laid back and closed your eyes, trying not to think about how exhausted you were. You just needed to get through the next twenty-four hours then, maybe, you could ask Billy for a couple of sick days to recover from whatever it was that was clearly making you feel so terrible.

Time drifted by, and you weren’t sure if you fell asleep or not, but the next time you opened your eyes, you found Billy approaching you.

“There you are...”

You bit back a sigh, not because you didn’t want to see him, but because things had become so ridiculously complicated between you. A familiar ache filled your chest the closer he got and, when he smiled at you, you felt like your heart was going to burst.

“Can I?” He said, indicating the towel and if it was okay for him to join you.

All you managed was a nod, sitting up and scooting over to make room for him.

He sat beside you, his knee knocking against yours, and asked; “enjoying the weather?”

“Yeah, I can’t remember the last time I went on vacation...”

It wasn’t strictly true. You could remember, you just didn’t like to.

Your aunt had surprised you with a trip to California to look at colleges, hoping she could convince you to continue your education. It was supposed to be two weeks of sun, sea, and Disneyland, to show you there was a whole world out there. Instead you’d had four days of panic attacks and puking your guts up because you couldn’t stand the thought of being so far from Seb.

She’d been so angry when she had to take you home early, and she’d barely spoken to you for a month after.

Even now, only three hours away, you felt that same panic beneath your ribs.

“You’re worried about your brother,” Billy said, reading you with a fluency that caused your heart to skip a beat.

“I got him an iPad when you were in Vegas, he can call me whenever he needs me now,” you said. Judging from the look on Billy’s face, he didn’t buy it. So, you sighed, “I always worry about him.”

“I know,” he said simply, placing a hand on your leg and offering a reassuring squeeze.

He didn’t try to convince you that things would be fine, or tell you that you were being ridiculous. He didn’t do any of the things that so many people from your past had done. Billy just accepted your worry, your love for your brother, as a part of who you were.

Silence lingered for a few minutes, Billy stared out at the water, while your eyes stayed fixed on him, on that handsome profile that you’d grown so used to. He wasn’t smiling though. No, if anything, his expression bore the weight of the last few days.

“About this morning, I’m -” he started abruptly.

“Don’t. You don’t have to -” you interrupted, not wanting him to apologise when he’d done nothing wrong.

You fell silent as he faced you, his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came. He just stared before reaching for you, his fingers barely ghosting your cheek as he brushed an errant strand of hair away from your face and tucked it behind your ear.

Without thinking, you moved, shifting closer as your hand hooked around the back of his neck and pulled him towards you. Kissing him, you took what you’d wanted from him that morning.

Billy froze for a moment, clearly shocked by the gesture, but then his tongue pressed against the seam of your lips and slipped into your mouth. You were the instigator, but you quickly surrendered control to him, letting him give you what you needed.

A hand ran up your side as he pressed closer, and you found yourself guided down, onto your back. Billy pressed closer - or, maybe you pulled him closer - until the weight of his body was on top of you.

You moaned against his lips as his hips pressed against yours, and you felt his cock twitch against you.

Your fingers raked down his back through the fabric of his shirt, all the way down to his ass so you could pull him against you, forcing him to move and showing him what you wanted. Billy took the hint, grinding himself against you, his cck getting harder by the second.

It felt like a slow descent into madness, until it became anything but slow. Once Billy realised and understood that you wanted this, that your rules no longer applied, frenzy took hold.

A hand pushed your long blouse open and he palmed your breast through your bikini top, calling a dull but wonderful ache, reminding you of the bite mark he’d left on you less than forty-eight hours before.

You gasped against his lips and moved beneath him while your hands tugged at his pants, wanting there to be no misunderstanding between you.

You wanted him.

You wanted to finally feel him inside of you as he fucked you.

He almost tore your sarong in an attempt to get it off, but had a much easier time with the tie holding your bikini bottoms together.

And, finally, you understood; he wanted this, wanted you, as much as you wanted him.

Whether it was just sex, something physical that he craved, you didn’t know, but you were willing to give it if it meant you didn’t have to carry around the longing anymore.

“Billy,” you moaned against his lips as his fingers slipped into the waiting heat of your body.

You moved with his fingers, with him, pulling him down and holding him tight. Fingers curled in his hair as you kissed, but the other hand slipped lower, into his pants. You gripped his cock and gave it an eager squeeze as you pulled it out.

His eyes flickered open and caught yours, and all it took was the slightest of nods from you.

You mewled as his fingers withdrew and bit your lip when you felt the tip of his cock against you, pushing against you with a teasing pressure, no doubt to see if you would change your mind. You wouldn’t.

Billy took a slow breath, his eyes still fixed on yours like he was searching for some sign that you didn’t want this, and your heart almost broke for him. You were making him doubt himself, making him feel out of control, and it was the last thing you wanted.

You whispered his name softly, pleadingly, hoping it would be enough and, for a second , it seemed like it was.

And then someone called your name.

Billy let out an frustrated, almost animalistic sound - something you’d never heard before - then he righted his clothes and got to his feet. He stalked away down the beach as you scrambled to cover yourself as Leah approached.

“Oh, hey,” she said, looking a little sheepish. “Sorry, did I interrupt -”

“No,” you said quickly - maybe a little too quickly. “No we were just - he needs some time alone, all of this is... it’s a little overwhelming.

She nodded and smiled. “Yeah, my family can be a bit much sometimes. It’s nicer when it’s just us and we don’t have everyone else here, but...”

She trailed off into a shrug and you watched as her eyes moved to where Billy was walking down the beach.

“Did you need something?” You asked, pulling her attention back to you.

“Oh, right - Grandmother wants to play cards, so she asked me to come see if you wanted to join her.”

You didn’t want to, but it felt rude to refuse and, honestly, you needed something to distract you from what had almost happened with Billy.

And that was how you ended up spending most of the afternoon on the veranda with Catherine and some of the other women, trying to learn to play Canasta. It wasn’t particularly fun, but it did keep your mind from thinking too hard about Billy. Until Catherine brought him up.

“I was beginning to think we might have to send a search party out for William.”

She smiled and you followed her gaze down to the beach and, sure enough, there was Billy, slowly trudging along the sand.

“He just wanted a couple of hours to himself,” you said, unable to tear your eyes from him.

“Is everything alright?” Catherine asked.

Strangely, you’d come to appreciate that she was forward when she wanted to pry, instead of awkwardly dancing around the point, she simply asked you what she wanted to know regardless of how personal it might be.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you answered. “We’re just both coming to terms with all the changes that have happened lately. Billy is - well, he’s not quite the playboy everyone seems to think he is. He likes having time to be alone with his thoughts.”

There was no stopping the fond smile that spread across your lips, the little moment of realisation that you had come to know him. The real him, and not just the successful businessman and playboy that the rest of the world saw. No, you saw the Billy who liked to spend his evenings curled up on the couch, reading and not speaking, not because he didn’t like your company, but because he didn’t feel the need to always impress you.

“He looks like he’s got some very serious thoughts right now,” Catherine said.

He was close enough that you could make out his face, his expression and - yeah, you knew exactly what that look of frustration was. So, the moment he made it onto the veranda, you went to him, throwing your arms around him and kissing him.

Billy held you tight and smiled as the kiss broke, the frustration and worry instantly disappearing from his face. It was what you wanted; to settle the questioning part of him that had no doubt been tearing apart that moment on the beach and wondering if he’d done something wrong. Your kiss silenced that doubt and told him all he needed to know.

“Tonight, you’re mine, little dove,” he muttered in your ear.

It was a good job your arms were still around his waist because those five little words were almost enough to turn your legs to jello beneath you. Clearly he was done with second guessing.

He sat beside you for lunch, filling your plate and making easy conversation with everyone at the table, leaving you to think about what was going to happen later.

You barely said two words to him when you returned to the room to get ready for dinner. Billy kept his distance from you, distracting himself with his laptop while you showered and did your make-up. The tension between you was stifling.

As you did your make-up you tried not to think about how tired you were or how your skin was warm to the touch - you’d just spent too much time in the sun, that was all. Nothing was going to ruin this, nothing was going to stop what Billy had planned for you tonight. You forced it all to the back of your mind; how tired you were, the growing ache in your head, and the way you just felt too damned warm.

While he was getting ready, you distracted yourself by sitting on the balcony, hoping the sea breeze would cool you off. It didn’t.

But you didn’t mention it to Billy, not as he took your hand and led you to dinner, or when he sat beside you, smiling fondly.

Again, you found yourself quietly sitting back, responding when spoken to but not entirely involving yourself in the conversation.

Your appetite vanished about three mouthfuls into dinner, and you sat uncomfortably as you tried to force yourself to eat.

Billy asked if you were okay - even Catherine noted that you looked a little under the weather - but you shrugged it off and said that you were fine. But you weren’t fine, and you knew it. As much as you wanted to ignore it, as much as you wanted to blame the sun and the fresh air, you’d been sick enough times to know that there was more to it.

You knew, but said nothing, wanting to tough it out, wanting to finally have a night with Billy where you wouldn’t wake up alone.

Billy kept talking and laughing, smiling like it was the happiest day of his life. And, again, when the party moved into the drawing room, you found yourself separated from him.

Conversation became a blur around you and trying to keep up only seemed to exhaust you more. You burned hotter and hotter, until you felt like you were being smothered and your head throbbed with it.

“I think you should consider an early night,” Catherine said softly, reaching to put a hand on your arm.

Everyone around the little table was looking at you sympathetically, and it just made you feel worse. But you knew Catherine was right. You couldn’t stay there, not when it was getting so bad that you were on the verge of tears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “I don’t know what’s -”

“It’s fine, just go lay down and rest,” Catherine interrupted.

The room began to spin as you stood. You dared to glance at Billy, who was busy playing poker, but you didn’t have the will to face him, to tell him that the night was ruined, so you headed for the door.

You barely made it into the hallway before he noticed you leaving and abandoned his poker game to follow after.

“Hey, where are you -” he stopped the moment you turned, your appearance more than answered the unfinished question.

“I - I’m sorry, I... I think I need to go lay down,” you said.

Even the sound of the words made your head hurt more. Taking a slight step back, you almost managed to lose your foot but, before you could fall, Billy’s hand gripped your arm. He looked at you with a growing concern.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine, I just... I need to lay down.”

“Come on then, I’ll walk you back to the room,” he said without hesitation.

“No, it’s - it’s fine, you should stay and enjoy yourself.”

All you wanted to do was curl up in bed and feel sorry for yourself but, despite your protests, Billy started to walk you back to your room. By the time you got there, you were exhausted and he was the only thing keeping you upright.

You fell onto the bed, not bothering to kick off your shoes or attempt to change out of your dress. A groan slipped out at the feel of the cold pillow against your cheek.

Billy pressed a hand to your face and inhaled sharply. “You feel really warm.”

“I think it’s just a cold,” you murmur before lifting your head to cough into your hand. Your chest ached and protested and, by the time you’d finished, you struggled to catch your breath again.

“Just - just wait there,” Billy said.

And then he was gone. You didn’t think about where, only that he’d gone, that he’d left you. You closed your eyes tight and tried not to cry. Minutes passed before you felt the mattress dip beside you and Billy gently angled your face away from the pillow. Your eyes struggled to focus, but the moment you felt the damp cotton wool on your cheek, you knew what he was doing.

“Can’t have you sleeping in all that make-up, little dove,” he said softly.

The gentleness in his voice and his touch as he slowly started to wipe away your make-up was enough to make your heart ache.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“For what?”

“I ruined it...”

“Ruined what?” He asked, pausing for a moment to look at you and frowning when he noticed the tears slowly forming in the corners of your eyes.

“This... tonight... us...”

“Nothing is ruined,” he said firmly, holding your gaze even as the first tear escaped. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I thought we were going to fix things,” you said, feeling the words slipping out of you, exhaustion and your growing fever making you feel almost delirious. “I thought things would get better but I ruined it again.”

“Stop,” he told you. “You haven’t ruined anything. You’ve never ruined anything.”

“You - you left me. I messed up and you went away.”

“Stop,” he said again, his voice threatening to break. “You didn’t mess up. I did. I went away because I fucked up. I broke your rule and kissed you. I took advantage of you when you were vulnerable and... I left because I don’t know how to not want more when I’m with you.”

“You were mad at me...”

“I was mad at myself, not you. I pushed for you to come live with me because I wanted more of you, and then I found out how much harder it is to stop myself from want you when I always have you around.” he said, still so tenderly cleaning your face.

“I can go... I’ll... I’ll move out,” you offered weakly, barely clinging to consciousness. “You won’t want me soon anyway...”

“Of course I’ll want you.”

“No... Catherine likes you now, you won’t need me anymore. You’ll... you’ll send me away...” It was getting harder and harder to form the words, let alone think about what you were actually saying to him.

“I think I’ll always need you, little dove...” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, I need you to sit up for a minute so we can get your pyjamas on.”

He didn’t give you much of a choice before pulling you upright and awkwardly getting you out of your dress. And, by the time your head hit the pillow, you were already asleep.

It was dark when your eyes opened again, struggling to escape from his arms and the bedsheets that were tangled around you. Too hot. You were so hot you felt like you could barely breathe. You needed to open a window, to find a way to let in that cool ocean breeze.

When you finally managed to sit up on the edge of the bed, you were overcome by a feeling of lightheadedness, but as you felt yourself about to fall, a strong arm wrapped around you.

Billy sat up behind you, holding you with one arm while he reached for the lamp with the other. You squinted and turned your head, the bright light causing your head to throb and your eyes to strain.

He inhaled sharply and, before you knew what was happening, Billy had climbed out of bed and lifted you up. He carried you into the bathroom and placed you down on the counter, keeping one hand on you while he ran a washcloth under some cold water.

When you caught your reflection in the mirror, you understood his panic. Your pyjamas were sweat-drenched, clinging to your trembling frame, and your hair hung in wet, matted strands across your burning face. You looked so sickly, so fragile, like you might break at any moment.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” he said as he pressed the cold flannel to your forehead, “you’re burning up.”

You managed to shake your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he said as softly as he could manage. “You have a fever.”

“It’ll go away. We’re... we’re going home tomorrow...” you said, words coming out in awkward wheezes.

You couldn’t risk seeing a doctor here, couldn’t risk being hospitalised so far away from home, from Seb.

“Billy, please. I just want to go home...” you continued.

“Fine, but as soon as we get back to the city, I’m taking you to a doctor.”

You nodded, knowing there was no other choice.

A harsh cough tore from your chest and you turned away, covering your mouth. The cough scraped and crackled, leaving your lungs raw and struggling to hold breath. Billy rubbed your back, trying desperately to soothe you.

Once your breathing finally settled, he handed you a cold glass of water and told you to drink, which you did without hesitation. Then he led you back to the bedroom, peeled off your sweat-drenched pyjamas, and swapped them for one of his shirts before laying you on the bed again.

“Stay here,” he said in a firm but delicate tone.

A few minutes later he returned. You were half-asleep as he slid an arm beneath your shoulders and lifted you just enough that you could take the two pills he pressed into your hands. He pressed a glass of water to your lips and you swallowed, not even bothering to question what he’d given you.

Then Billy climbed onto the bed beside you, placed a pillow on his lap, and guided your head onto it. As your eyes fluttered shut, he dabbed the cold, wet washcloth to your forehead again, lulling you to sleep.

A/N : 😅 I promise next chapter you'll find out what's actually going on with reader. I'm thinking next chapter might be another Billy PoV chapter too, so we can enjoy seeing him freaking out while also trying to take care of reader (I know, I'm a monster). Also sorry not sorry for cock-blocking Billy twice this chapter. He always has to get cock-blocked at least once and it was his time.

As always I love and appreciate every like/comment/reblog and keyboard smash of love. Thanks so much for reading! Hope you all have a great weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

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snowkestrel · 20 hours ago

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What Is Your Subconscious Trying to Tell You? Planets in the 12th House

Sun in the 12th house

That’s like the universe saying, “You’re powerful, radiant, and deeply gifted… but let’s play hide-and-seek with it for a while.”

The subconscious here is kind of whispering instead of yelling. It’s like, “Hey, you’ve got this inner light, but it works best when you're alone, dreaming, meditating, or doing something wildly imaginative at 3 a.m.” You’re not the “spotlight” type — you’re more like the candle in a quiet temple. Subtle, sacred, and kinda mysterious.

It might also mean your sense of self (the Sun) is on a journey through a foggy forest. You feel things deeply, often without knowing where it’s all coming from. But that’s the 12th house way — it’s not linear, it’s more “vibes and visions.”

Sometimes this placement is like your soul signed up for a retreat in this lifetime: “Let’s develop compassion, spiritual insight, and psychic Wi-Fi.” But occasionally, it forgets it also has to go grocery shopping and file taxes, which is less magical.

Your subconscious wants you to stop trying to be someone else’s idea of “visible” and start honoring the quiet power you already have. It’s telling you: “You're not here to be loud — you’re here to be luminous in silence.”

Basically, you’re the kind of person who might not post selfies every day, but when you do, everyone’s like “Damn, who is this ethereal being?”

The trick? Spend time in solitude, trust your dreams, and don’t be afraid of your own depth. Your Sun’s not lost — it’s just meditating.

Moon in the 12th house

Ah, Moon in the 12th house — aka “Feelings? Yes. Do I understand them? Not always. Do I absorb the emotional state of every plant, cloud, and stranger’s sneeze? Absolutely.”

This is the placement of the secret empath, the cosmic sponge, the person whose emotional radar is so sensitive it picks up on vibes that haven't even happened yet. Your subconscious basically lives in a cozy, candle-lit cave with a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign, journaling about things your conscious mind hasn’t figured out.

You might cry during shampoo commercials and have no idea why. Spoiler: it’s not about the shampoo — it’s probably unresolved childhood stuff, or your neighbor's breakup energy floating through the walls.

The Moon rules emotions, instincts, and your inner child — and when it’s tucked into the 12th house, it's like your feelings are behind a curtain. Sometimes you don’t even realize how deeply affected you are until your cat looks at you weird and suddenly you're having a 3-hour existential crisis.

Your subconscious here is constantly trying to process and heal old emotional baggage — not just from this life, but possibly from past ones too. (Yup, we’re going full mystical.) It’s like your dreams, gut feelings, and random waves of nostalgia are all part of your soul’s therapy sessions.

And the message? Feel your feels. Even if you don’t understand them. Spend time alone. Journal. Swim. Meditate. Cry at art. Be weird and emotional in a safe, private bubble. That’s where your magic lives.

Also — protect your energy. You’re not crazy. You're just psychic and slightly haunted in a beautiful way.

Mercury in the 12th house

Mercury in the 12th house is like having a genius poet locked in the attic of your mind. They write incredible things, uncover deep truths, have brilliant thoughts... but they don’t always send the memo down to your conscious brain. Or if they do, it gets lost in translation somewhere between “dream logic” and “wait, what was I saying again?”

This is the placement of secret thinkers, inner philosophers, and psychic messengers. You may come across as quiet or daydreamy, but under the surface your brain is a labyrinth of thoughts, insights, and deeply intuitive connections. Mercury here doesn’t shout — it whispers from the shadows like, “Psst, I know something you don’t know…”

It might show up as overthinking in the middle of the night, or having whole conversations in your head that are more interesting than real-life small talk. You may also randomly blurt something super profound, and everyone’s like “Whoa… where did that come from?” and you’re like “I… don’t know??”

Also, let’s be real — your subconscious is a talker. It just prefers dreams, music, symbols, and spiritual downloads instead of bullet points. Mercury in the 12th is more Rumi than PowerPoint.

And your subconscious message? Trust the way your mind works, even if it’s not “normal.” Write things down. Record your dreams. Let your creativity out in weird, wordy, wonderful ways. You don’t have to explain your thoughts to everyone — sometimes they’re meant to be decoded slowly, like secret scrolls.

You’re not forgetful. You’re just tuned to a frequency that plays between the lines.

Venus in the 12th house

Ohhh, this one is pure soft poetry and tragic romance vibes. It’s like your heart lives in a secret garden with a “no entry unless you’re telepathic” sign on the gate.

You love deeply — sometimes even before you consciously realize it. Love sneaks up on you. Crushes feel like dreams. You might be drawn to unavailable people (emotionally, geographically, or dramatically). Why? Because Venus in the 12th doesn’t always want a simple rom-com — it wants a soul story with plot twists.

You might also hide your love. Maybe you don’t want to “bother” someone with your feelings. Maybe you fall in love in silence, or love people in ways they never even realize — like a secret admirer… but spiritual. Your subconscious is like, “Let’s keep this precious thing hidden so no one can hurt it.” (Cute, but exhausting.)

Also, you give love selflessly. Venus here is the friend who will help you move at midnight, bake you cookies when you’re sad, and never mention how much you mean to them. Why? Because they assume you already feel it. (Spoiler: not everyone does. Use your words, magical creature.)

Your subconscious is whispering: “You are worthy of love that doesn’t require self-sacrifice to feel real.” Not all love has to be painful, secret, or karmic. You deserve joy, softness, and being loved out loud. Let people love you back. Let your heart be seen, even if it feels scary.

And one more thing? You’re lowkey magnetic. People pick up on that Venusian glow even if you’re trying to hide behind your coffee cup. So maybe step out of the fog once in a while. Love is looking for you too — it just needs a map.

Mars in the 12th house

Ahhh Mars in the 12th house — the warrior monk of the zodiac. It’s like your inner fighter went on a silent retreat and only throws punches in dreams, poetry, or deep existential crises.

Mars is action, drive, anger, desire. But in the 12th house? It’s doing push-ups in the shadows. You have energy, fire, and passion… but it might come out sideways, secretly, or at completely inconvenient times like “why am I suddenly furious at this paperclip?”

Sometimes you’re not even sure what you’re mad at — you just feel pressure building, like there’s a volcano inside that occasionally sighs dramatically through a vent. Or maybe you hesitate to assert yourself because confrontation feels unsafe or unclear. Mars here often learns early in life: “It’s not safe to show anger.” So you tuck it away… until it punches the inside of your ribcage.

But don’t worry — your subconscious has a plan.

Mars in the 12th is like spiritual kung fu. It wants you to use your strength not just to win arguments, but to fight for your healing, your compassion, your creativity, your dreams. Your drive is sacred, even if it feels slippery.

This placement also gives wild dream energy — you might fight battles, run missions, or fall in lust in your sleep.Honestly, your dream self is probably more assertive than your waking self. (Mars is out there living its best dreamlife.)

Your subconscious is saying: “Stop doubting your power just because it doesn’t look like everyone else’s.” You don’t need to charge into battle — but you do need to claim your space. Take inspired action. Express anger safely. Do physical movement that feels healing. Say no without a 3-page apology.

You’re not passive. You’re just a warrior of the unseen. Mars in the 12th isn’t weak — it’s just training on another level.

Jupiter in the 12th house

Jupiter in the 12th house is like having a guardian angel with a great sense of humor who works undercover. You're walking through life with this invisible cheerleader going, “You don’t know it yet, but I’m totally helping you avoid disasters and manifest blessings behind the scenes.”

This placement is lowkey magical. It gives you luck, protection, and spiritual growth — but in subtle, dreamy, 12th-house ways. It’s not “I won the lottery!” luck. It’s “I missed that train and met the love of my life because of it” luck. Divine timing, secret blessings, the universe whispering “trust me” when everything seems foggy.

You might have this deep, unshakable faith that everything will be okay — even if your logical brain is like, “Girl, how??” That’s Jupiter in the 12th. It’s not loud. It’s not flashy. It’s cosmic reassurance wrapped in a soft blanket of intuition.

Also? You're spiritually wise in ways you might not even realize. You could be the friend who just "knows" what someone needs to hear. Or the person who finds meaning in chaos. Or the one journaling about life purpose at 2 a.m. while others are doomscrolling.

And your subconscious? It’s whispering: “Expand inward.” Grow your inner world. Trust your intuition. Let yourself explore dreams, healing, compassion, art, philosophy — not because they’re “productive,” but because your soul literally needs them.

Also: don’t ignore your gift of helping others — even anonymously. You might be amazing at behind-the-scenes kindness, working in solitude, or just radiating that “safe to cry here” energy. People may not know why they feel better around you — but they do.

So yeah. Jupiter in the 12th? It’s spiritual Wi-Fi with unlimited data. Use it. Share it. Trust it.

Saturn in the 12th house

Saturn in the 12th house is like having a strict, old-school monk living in your subconscious — the kind who wakes you up at 5 a.m. to meditate and reminds you that “suffering builds character.” Thanks, bro.

This placement gives deep inner strength, but not without a bit of existential bootcamp. Saturn here often makes you feel like you're carrying invisible weight. You might not always know why you feel heavy, tired, or a bit lonely — but it’s like your soul remembers every past-life karma, every buried fear, and it’s quietly working through them in the background.

It’s the “I feel guilty for no reason” placement. Or “I don’t even know what I’m afraid of, but I am.” Saturn in the 12th is the cosmic janitor sweeping your inner basement — slowly, methodically, and with a clipboard.

You may also keep your struggles hidden. You might not ask for help, because something inside you says “I have to figure this out alone.” And honestly? You probably do get stronger that way. But also — gentle reminder — you don’t have to do everything the hard way.

Your subconscious is saying: “Face your shadows, but don’t marry them.” You’re here to learn how to carry solitude without it turning into isolation. To build faith and structure in the unseen. To turn fear into discipline. And to realize that your strength isn’t in being hard — it’s in being whole.

Also? You’re probably amazing at long-term healing work, spiritual commitment, and being the quiet rock in chaotic times. You’re not weak — you’re just wired to grow from the inside out, and that takes time.

So be patient with yourself. Your soul’s doing advanced-level homework. You’ll graduate with a PhD in Inner Resilience.

Uranus in the 12th house

Uranus in the 12th house is like having a mad scientist, rebel hacker, and cosmic lightning bolt all living in your subconscious… but they’re working anonymously. Behind the scenes. Wearing a trench coat and sunglasses. At night.

This is the placement of psychic plot twists, intuitive downloads, and freaky deja vu moments. You’ll be chilling and suddenly get a “feeling” not to go somewhere — and then find out later that something chaotic happened there. Or you’ll dream about someone you haven’t seen in five years… and they text you the next day. Classic 12th house Uranus stuff.

There’s a deep inner genius here, but it’s not always available on demand. You don’t always know when inspiration will strike — but when it does, it’s weirdly brilliant. Think: flashes of insight in the shower, sudden “aha!”s at 4 a.m., or radical ideas that come while staring at a wall.

Your subconscious is constantly processing the collective energy. It’s like you’re plugged into the Wi-Fi of the universe — but the signal is unstable and sometimes comes with static and prophetic memes.

You may also crave freedom… in ways you can’t always explain. Like, “I just want to be alone in a cave, reinventing myself every three days, thanks.” You rebel against anything that boxes in your soul, even if no one else sees those boxes. Especially rules that feel outdated or fake.

And your subconscious message? “Liberate yourself from within.” The real revolution is happening behind your eyes — in your dreams, your gut feelings, your untamed thoughts. Trust your intuition, honor your eccentricities, and don’t be afraid to break internal rules you didn’t even know were optional.

You’re not unstable. You’re wired for awakening. Uranus in the 12th doesn’t want you to follow the map — it wants you to channel the lightning.

Neptune in the 12th house

Neptune in the 12th house is like being born with a secret doorway to other realms… but also constantly misplacing the key.

This is peak mystical energy. Your subconscious is basically floating in a foggy, glittery dreamscape where mermaids give life advice and emotions come with a soundtrack. You have intuitive, psychic, or even mediumistic abilities — whether you’ve tapped into them or not. Like, you feel things no one else notices. You soak up moods, signals, and subtle energies like a spiritual sponge wrapped in velvet.

But let’s be honest: sometimes you’re not sure what’s yours and what’s just collective sadness, someone else’s anxiety, or Neptune doing its usual “let’s blur the lines” thing.

You may zone out, daydream, escape into art, fantasy, music, or naps (so many naps). Your subconscious says, “Let me dissolve reality for a bit — it’s too loud out there.”

Neptune here is also like: “Boundaries? Never heard of them.” You might feel compassion for literally everyone — even fictional villains and angry birds at the bus stop. Which is beautiful, but exhausting if you’re not protecting your energy.

And the message from your subconscious? “You are here to connect with the divine — but don’t lose yourself in the fog.” Your superpower is your connection to higher love, imagination, empathy, and art. But you’ve got to anchor it. Ground it. Channel it. Otherwise, it’s like having a gorgeous sailboat with no steering wheel.

You're not “too sensitive.” You’re just tuned into the cosmic frequency that most people ignore. Neptune in the 12th is a portal — and you’re the one who gets to walk through it (just remember to come back for snacks and hydration, okay?).

So dream. Create. Heal. Escape sometimes. But also: have boundaries, routines, and maybe one friend who texts you “hey, are you still on this planet?” every now and then.

Pluto in the 12th house

Pluto in the 12th house? Whew. That’s like having a shadow therapist living in your subconscious, doing deep soul excavation while you’re just trying to make it through Monday.

This placement is intense, transformational, and lowkey kind of psychic. You have emotional X-ray vision — you sense what’s hidden, what’s repressed, what’s not being said. You walk into a room and feel the tension before anyone opens their mouth. You read people without trying. Creepy? Maybe. Accurate? Absolutely.

But here’s the thing: you do the same thing to yourself — digging, unraveling, overanalyzing your own motives, wounds, dreams, fears, past lives, ancestral traumas, karmic loops… all while doing the dishes.

You might carry deep emotional weight that’s not even yours. Pluto in the 12th is often like, “Congrats! You’re the family karma sponge!” (rude, but powerful). Your subconscious is constantly whispering: "There’s more under the surface… keep digging." And you do. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Especially if it’s uncomfortable.

You might also have intense dreams, powerful emotions you can’t always explain, or a strange fascination with all things taboo, mysterious, or dark — psychology, death, sex, power, transformation. Basically, Pluto lives where the sun doesn’t shine, and in the 12th house, it’s got a whole underground palace.

But the beauty? You’re a healer. A transformer. A shadow-walker. You’re here to learn that your darkness isn’t dangerous — it’s sacred. You can help others face their fears because you’ve faced (or are constantly facing) your own. You don’t flinch at other people’s pain. You just get it.

So what’s Pluto in the 12th really trying to tell you?

“Go inward. Let go. Rise from your own ashes. Again. And again. And again.” You’re not broken — you’re evolving. Quietly. Radically. From the soul out.

#astrology #natal chart #planets in the 12th house #12th house

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