#i mean im not proud of it but knowing the way that i am that. explains a lot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ittybxttykxttytxtty · 3 days ago

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Chelsea, before i start my essay (brainrot). I want you to know that coming back to this hellsite (affectionate) was worth it. Your updates are fucking amazing and I am so proud of you for making this series.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

YOU HAVE MADE AN ENEMY OUT OF ME TODAY, MADAM.

Are you really going to make me beg?

WHY NOT? YOU LOOK BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU BEG.

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

WHY IS SHE HERE AGAIN?!?!? I WAS HAVING SUCH A NICE TIME.

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

gagshhduabBsgusbdhhahad AAAAAHHHHHJJ, CHELSEAAAAAAAAAA, I NEEEED HIMMMMMMM.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

IM SO SO SO SORRY TO TEETH! BILLY....AND AOP!BILLY .....AND TO ALL THE PREVIOUS BILLY-S BUT THIS BILLY IS MY ACTUAL FAVORITE. I LOVE HIM. I WANT HIM. I NEED HIM. HE YEARNS LIKE NO OTHER. ITS LIKE TEETH!BILLY BUT WITH HALF OF THE OBSESSION OF IN THE SHADOW OF YOUR HEART!BILLY 💖💖💖💖💖 I WILL (maybe, sorta) GLADLY BETRAY THE OTHER BILLY-S FOR THIS ONE.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

AHSGSHAHSHSHHAHSHHHHHHAHAHHA

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

FUCK RENÉ. NO, YOU KNOW WHAT. IM CALLING HER RENESME OR CHUCKESEME.

this is her in my mind now.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

...so she has chosen death 😌 What peace knowing she will bite the dust soon 🖤

There he goes again, making you want him.

A crime, honestly. It should be illegal.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

Denial runs deep 😭😭😭😭

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Its giving Gomez Addams and I am here for it. Now kiss her all over to complete the lewk 😭🖤

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

THE NEED TO BITE HIM IS SO STRONG RIGHT NOW. I AM FERAL. NOBODY TOUCH ME.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

I HAVE A TOMMY GUN AND A DREAM. THE DREAM IS I PUT BULLET HOLES THROUGH YOU.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

Unleash it, please. I am begging.

THEY UNLEASHED IT FOR A LITTLE BIT AND I AM SCREAMING, CRYING, THROWING UP.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

HE KNOWS. I KNOW HE KNOWS.

Absolutely, no words. This update is worth every fucking wait. Also, please pray for me. I had to download the picture of that cursed doll. 😭

Objects in Motion

Part 4!

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

No warnings this is wholesome lmaoooooooo

His scent lingers on you when you walk into work on Monday. Despite how hard you'd tried to wash it off, it clings to your skin, seemingly unwilling to let you go.

Secretly, that delights you, emphasizes the strength of whatever there was between the two of you. It’s equal parts giddy, and terrifying.

That an alpha like him- that he could be interested in you, you have to resist a groan of delight as you wait for the elevator to get to your floor.

The doors slide open and you let out a long sigh, making your way slowly to your desk, smiling and forcing yourself to greet your coworkers.

You were already exhausted by the idea of working, wishing you were still in bed, hidden under piles of blankets to shield you from the world. Maybe a certain alpha would be willing to join you.

Or maybe… maybe you were better off never thinking about him again.

Honestly, you'd probably be doing him a favour, your situations couldn't be more opposite, you couldn't imagine him ever seeing where you lived, it might hurt you to see the pity written across his face.

Worse, you'd just be a burden to him, he'd probably feel obligated to take care of you, and if things didn't work out- you shudder- you didn't even want to think about it.

But God, you were so attracted to him that it hurt. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the ways he would touch you, the ways he might feel, the size of him-

You blink in surprise, feeling a small flush of pheromones around you. Damn, work was the worst place for this.

At the same time, you catch sight of Renée, the only other omega in the department, making her way toward you, her desk situated nearby.

She glances at you, gives you a subtle nod while dropping her stuff, before pausing, and turning to you.

“You smell like an Alpha.” She says, no question in her tone.

Renée was the type of person to speak somewhat kindly to your face, the perfect facade of caring, but you knew people, and you knew that she would find a way to work this interaction into office gossip.

“I made a friend.” You answer inexplicably, trying to keep a poker face, knowing that shyness would do you no favours here.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” She says, smiling over at you sweetly.

“Thanks.” You mutter politely, tugging your headset on, and getting ready to start your day.

Your phone pings in the middle of the morning peak hours, and you pause speaking to glance down at it, seeing yet another message from the alpha himself.

He’d been sending texts all weekend, texts that you had been ignoring, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

You shake your head, apologising for your pause, before resuming your work.

When the call ends, you take a bathroom break, pulling down your notification bar to see what he’s said.

You catch sight of all the other messages before, sighing as guilt fills you.

I hoped you had a nice time, sweetheart, I’d like to see you again.

Omega?

Please don’t feel shy about the car, I wanted it too.

Are you ignoring me?

Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s have dinner.

Are you really going to make me beg?

It was almost hard to breathe, the way he seemed so desperate for you. You could almost feel his desire through the phone, like an ache in your chest, sticking like tar to the back of your throat.

Denying him might be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but it was for the best, you decide as you lock your phone. You would not be played for a fool ever again.

He calls during your lunch break, you swallow and flip your phone over, muting the call while you eat your small packed lunch.

Why wasn't he getting the message? Would it really be that hard to free yourself of him?

You don't get any more messages or calls after that, and you assume he gives up when you hear nothing else from him for the rest of the day.

Your transit home is bitter, the thought that you'd successfully chased an alpha away hurts, like you knew it would.

He might have been amazing, he might have been warm. You tip your head back on the bus, taking in a deep breath and exhaling agony.

Worse, his scent fades even more the next day, and where you'd been trying to scrub it from you over the weekend, you cling to it now, wishing it would stay just a few days more.

You stop, surprised, when you see a single sunflower sitting on your work desk in the morning.

It's in a little transparent vase, and your heart gives a violent uptick as you approach, reaching for the little card you see pressed under the vase, raising it to your nose, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pure scent of him. He'd probably rubbed the harsh little card against his scent gland, trying to get your attention by any means necessary.

You go so weak in the knees that you're forced to brace a hand against your desk to support you.

You draw back, flipping the card open, finding one word written neatly in his hand.

Please

You bite down in the corner of your lip, smiling. Guess you hadn't chased him away after all.

Was this good? Was this bad? You didn't know, all you could feel is your chest fluttering at the idea that you'd pushed this Alpha away as hard as you could and he was still here, trying to calmly approach, not overwhelming you by physically getting into your space, but letting his actions speak for him, reminding you that he was still here.

Could you hope that his feelings were real? That he really cared about you, where other Alphas had only themselves in mind?

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

You turn, dropping your hand as if you've been caught.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, turning to busy yourself with work, feeling her eyes glued to the back of your head.

When you finally settle in, staring at the flower, you frown, remembering the way the second alpha you'd been with had used your own desires against you. He'd twisted your need to be cared for, making it seem like your only purpose was to serve him. Adam had left you aching for crumbs and hating yourself for it.

You could almost cry from the memory, that alphas could be so cruel, so manipulative, that it was always a game and you needed to keep your cards close to your chest.

Why, would William be any different?

Why were you wishing with everything you had, that he was?

You bring the card up to your nose, breathing in his scent, hoping.

You’re staring at his unopened messages yet again, trying to figure out what to say to him when the phone on your desk rings.

You straighten, grabbing your headset, tugging it on before answering, giving your quick, jovial greeting.

There’s a long pause, that alerts you to the fact that this call might not be totally normal.

“Omega.” The voice finally says, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“William?” You ask, almost choking on your words, “You- these calls are recorded for quality purposes.”

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

Jesus Christ, you could feel your heart palpitating in your chest.

“We shouldn’t be talking on this line.” You respond shakily.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

Ohmygod, you clear your throat, adjusting yourself in your seat with the way his voice is affecting you.

“William-”

“-I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you again, even if it’s for you to tell me you want me to leave you alone. I’ll beg if I have to.”

You blink, mouth parting, unable to speak.

“We shouldn’t.” You try.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

Your breath hitches as he continues on repeat, slow, drawing out each word with his voice echoing through your headset, sending shivers over your spine.

“Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay.” You stumble out, “Alright.”

You hear him sigh a breath of relief.

“Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t-” You start before cutting off, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “-I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t fret little one, I’ll pick you up after work. I’ll take care of everything, you just have to withstand my company for one night, and if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone after.”

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

He hums over the line, a little laugh after a few moments.

“Thank you, omega, see you later.”

You mumble your goodbye, ending the call on your side.

It warms your core for minutes after, unbelievably turned on by him, unable to deny the way you were feeling, you bring the card up to your nose once more, breathing him in.

He sends you a quick message a few minutes before your work day ends to tell you that he’s waiting in the lobby for you.

You feel a nervous twist in your stomach as you close your files, and pack up your things, glancing over to see that Renee hadn’t come back from her trip to the bathroom just yet, normally bidding her goodbye before you leave.

You wonder if you should bring the sunflower with you, but you figure it would be fine here and you can just take it home tomorrow. On the other hand, seeing it here really did make the day more bearable.

You decide to think about it later, heading for the elevator, your bag in hand.

You catch his scent as the doors slide open, smiling wistfully as bergamot surrounds you, tugging you to him.

You round the corner and stop short in shock.

It's a very bold move, to openly present your scent gland to a possible stranger, and you glance up at his face, noting his expression.

His eyebrows are pinched, mouth turned down into a frown, confusion maybe, perhaps a hint of distaste.

You didn't know you were good at reading lips until this moment as well, but you know without a doubt that he says the words ‘I'm sorry, I'm not interested.’ despite how far away you are.

Then, he turns, eyes meeting yours as if he knew exactly where you were.

He mutters something you think is ‘excuse me,’ before he begins walking in your direction.

In a well pressed white shirt, tucked into charcoal grey pants, he approaches you with even strides, never breaking eye contact, making you feel the intensity of him as he draws near.

You feel your spine stiffen, head angling upward the closer he gets, until he's standing before you, drinking you in.

“Hello, sweetheart, thank you for giving me another chance to see you.”

You gulp.

“D- don't make me regret it.” You stutter out, trying to stand your ground on your boundaries.

“Never.” He promises, extending his elbow out for you to take. You eagerly oblige, reaching up to grip his bicep securely, maybe a little bit more than necessary.

You keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone on your way out.

He's not driving this time, guiding you toward a very big SUV, with blackout windows and a cozy leather interior.

There’s so much room, enough for him to extend his legs when he slides in beside you, closing the door and tapping twice on the partition separating the two of you from the driver.

“Wow,” you murmur, looking around, even noticing a small fridge in the space across from you, “This- is this yours?”

He hums.

“Technically, they belong to the company, but I get to use it when I need to.”

You blink, realising that he was trying to be humble about it.

Smiling, you turn to look at him, eyes widening when you realise how close he’d gotten to you when you were distracted.

“You smell like me, omega.” He whispers into the space between you, his dark eyes searching yours, leaning in, he presses his nose to your hair.

You hear the soft inhale, your body stiffening, trying to resist your own instinct to present your scent gland to him. His own scent fills the space around you, and his shaky exhale brushes your ear as he leans away.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not pleased by it. You have power over me, sweetheart, I hope you know that.”

Your breaths sharpen, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down harshly trying to recenter your thoughts.

How could he say something like that so easily? As if it were in his nature to be so… devoted.

His gaze dips to your mouth, lingering there for a long moment before he smiles softly.

“How was work today?” He inquires, leaning back further, taking a few deep breaths, in what you can only assume is an attempt to calm himself.

It was great, you want to say, but the words won't come out with the way he's looking at you, as if you're his next meal, or his deity.

You can't decide.

“Omega?”

“Good.” You blurt, losing control of your thinking, did you even really have a good day? You don't have the brain power to remember.

You turn your head away, blinking, trying to… think. It was hard to focus on anything other than him, the way he was filling your head with primal static, the urge to obey, to succumb washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, dropping your head into your hands, “being around you isn’t easy. It’s hard to control myself.”

You feel pressure in your throat, tears springing to your eyes, a dam on the brink of bursting.

His hand presses securely between your shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” He says calmly, you turn your head to find warm, encouraging eyes.

Oh, you think to yourself as you follow his instruction, breathing in softly, feeling those primal desires soften under the guidance of the very man causing them.

“There you go,” His voice makes your stomach flutter, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, little one.”

There he goes again, making you want him.

What would it cost, to reach up and kiss him? To press your fingers into his jaw while your mouths meet, to feel him like that, to exist with him in that way?

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing, living in that thought for a few moments.

When he’s sure you’re calm enough, he smiles.

“Now, let’s start over- was your day actually good?”

You feel amusement rise inside of you.

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “No one yelled at me, so I call it a win.”

He blinks, his expression turning sorrowful.

“People often yell at you?”

You nod.

“Customer service… is an excuse for small people to make someone else feel small.”

Something changes in his eyes, sorrow moulting into something else- his jaw tightening.

“I don't like the sound of that.” He admits.

You offer him a wry smile.

“That's just how things are, I guess. This is what I have to work with.” You stop yourself from complaining more, worried that it might upset him to hear the way people treated you, to hear them make derogatory comments, to question your intellect as if you'd personally inconvenienced them.

His hand moves from your shoulder, tracing its way up to the back of your neck, and then to the side, his thumb in perfect reach of your scent gland and your brain goes hazy at the thought.

Instead of your gland, his thumb reaches up to stroke the edge of your jaw calmly.

“What happens if someone is too aggressive? What's the protocol? Do you transfer them to a manager?”

You gulp, remembering one time that happened, you'd gotten reprimanded after.

“Yeah that's the protocol, but I think it's best if I solve the problem myself, and get approvals on my own. It's not usually good to waste my supervisor's time.”

His thumb gently stroking your cheek lulls you, fits you into a space where you feel safe to talk about these things.

“Does anyone at your job yell at you?”

“Not… yell,” you hesitate for a moment, enjoying his caress, “they're just… warnings. I'm- I try to do my best to avoid that.” You huff out a breath, “I guess I got yelled at once, when I first started, but not after that.”

You gulp, glancing at him, the soft fire in his eyes as he studies you, his thumb dipping, circling the spot right above your gland.

Your lips part, your mind begging you to reach out to him.

The car slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath, eyes widening when you scent the mixture of pheromones in the air, you might as well be begging him on your knees with how potent it was. It sort of surprised you that he was able to resist it.

You want to say something to him, anything to fill the silence that swarms in as your eyes meet his, but your brain is blissfully blank, not a single cohesive thought other than how badly you wanted him.

He gives you a patient smile.

“We’re here.” He says.

“Where?” You ask softly.

“Hotel,” He answers softly, “I rented a room so you can get dressed and meet me in the restaurant for dinner.”

Renting a room? On a second date?

“Oh…” You mumble, trying to figure out if you needed to clarify your boundaries for him again.

You don’t get the chance, the door opens and you have to busy yourself with stepping out instead of addressing your concerns.

He extends his hand for you to take, and you do so eagerly, aching even more when you feel his large hand interlocked with yours.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

The doors close and you can feel your body throbbing. Was he expecting more from you than you were ready for?

“William?”

“Yes, Omega?”

You blink, looking up at him, unable to voice the words, the topic of conversation is too sensitive, the words can barely leave your mouth. Your mind races to find something else to ask.

“Do you- um- live around here?”

He tilts his head for a moment, maybe sensing your hesitation.

“Not really, I live close to where I work, home to office you know?”

You nod, smiling, before facing forward once more, a slither of discomfort in your spine.

You can feel his eyes on you, no doubt trying to read you while you debate whether this was a good idea or not.

When the doors slide open, he begins speaking again.

“I hired a stylist, to help, if that’s okay, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He guides you down a well lit hallway, and stops at a door before turning to face you.

“Is this okay? Or is it too much?” He questions softly, and you dip your head, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s a bit much.” You mumble, looking down at your shoes.

He bends his body, smiling as he manages to fit his head into your line of sight, it pulls a small smile from you too.

“If you could bear with me, omega.” He whispers so softly that the words kick off a yearning need in your head, “I have a surprise that will hopefully make up for it.”

You tilt your head up, and he moves, straightening his body to remain in your line of sight.

“Okay.” You surrender, trying to allow yourself to be swept up by him, even temporarily.

He gives you a pleased smile, hindbrain preening in response that you’ve made alpha happy. He turns, knocking on the door.

After a few moments, an omega with a kind smile opens the door. He introduces her as Maria, and you spare him one more glance before you step into the room, nodding when he says he’ll see you on the roof in two hours.

The elevator plays soft music as you travel upward, the sound of your own breathing heavy in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd picked the right dress, a little self conscious that you'd chosen something that might be too juvenile.

The strawberry dress had been too beautiful, your eyes had been drawn to it the moment you saw it, and no matter how hard you tried to convince Maria that it was a bad idea, she'd insisted that you picked the dress you most loved.

You really did like it, the tulle and the colour, and the cut of the dress going so low that you'd skipped your bra and used boob tape to hold your cleavage in place.

You weren't sure how painful removal would be, Maria had suggested baby oil, you just hope you had some at home.

She'd fixed your hair into soft curls, and she was really nice about what you liked and didn't, and by the end of it, she felt more like a friend helping you than a stylist being paid to do so.

The elevator doors open, and you cautiously step out. You take a deep breath through your nose, catching the faded scent of him, and following it.

Down a short hallway, and into a large open restaurant space. It was quiet, void of anyone, tables and booths empty.

You frown a little, confused as to why a restaurant this opulent would be closed. Sure, it was still daylight out on a weekday, but it didn't make sense to you on a business level.

The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with a large pane of glass in the middle of the room, blurry with falling water.

The soft sound invites you, and as you get closer, You make out a wavy silhouette behind the glass.

You step around it, finding William facing the window, looking down at his phone.

He's dressed pristinely in a dark blue shirt, black pants and shoes, though the top buttons on his shirt are open, giving off a more casual vibe than his work shirt from earlier.

You watch him take a slow breath, and then lift his head in realisation, turning to look at you.

You smile at him as he turns, fitting his phone into his pocket in one swift moment, slowly approaching you.

He doesn't say anything, and you're too afraid to see repulsion in his eyes to keep looking at him, so instead you study his attire as well, admiring the way he looks, noticing the delicate silver chain shimmering around his neck as he moves.

He says your name, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as he stands before you.

He takes another slow breath, and raises a hand to push some of your hair away from your scent gland, the tips of his fingers just gently brushing it, eliciting an almost violent shiver of pleasure.

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Delight bubbles inside of you until you can't resist a pleased smile.

“Thank you, Alpha, you look very nice too.”

When you say his title, you watch his eyes darken, his scent growing a little stronger in the space between you as his body calls out to yours.

You can feel it, the heat between you, the promise that he would take care of your every need no matter what.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you swear his words have a double meaning.

You nod, because you can't say it out loud, that you were starving, famished, not just for food but for the pleasure of his company, for the pleasure of him.

He guides you to the far end of the restaurant, towards a secluded corner, where there's a table waiting for you.

You don’t get a chance to study the table because you’re distracted by a large… object covered in a velvet shroud.

You walk around the object, preoccupied with it, turning to look at William with your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s my surprise,” He explains, stepping closer to you so that you can breathe him in, “I hope you like it.”

You look at it, the velvet shroud going up high, hanging precariously from the ceiling you think, one firm tug might bring it down.

When you look back at him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“When can I see what it is?” You ask eagerly.

He blinks, as if coming back to himself, glancing at the object as if he’s just remembered it.

“Take a step back,” He instructs, waiting until you comply to give another directive with a low voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Your heart pounds, excitement and anxiety war within you, the former winning over as you let your eyes close.

You hear footsteps, and then a tug, the sound of the shroud falling and the wind it generates as it does, caressing your face.

There’s a moment of silence, where your impatience fights you to open your eyes before he says, but you try your best to wait for William’s permission.

“You can open them now.”

You gasp in shock when you recognise what you’re looking at.

There’s so much gold, the painting glimmers in the light of the falling sun, you take a step forward, unsure of where to begin your examination.

You tilt your head, studying the little flowers first, eyes roaming up to examine the clothing of the two subjects in the portrait, then the hands, the different colours, the flowers in her hair, the leaves in his.

A larger, male subject, pressing a kiss onto his lover’s cheek.

The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

“It’s beautiful, so much like the real one.” You murmur absentmindedly.

“It is the real one.”

You pause, unable to register his words, before turning to him in shock, lips parted.

The alpha’s pleased expression grows into a smile.

“What do you mean this is the real one? The real one’s in Europe somewhere.”

He nods, as if to agree with you.

“Vienna, yes.”

You turn to examine the painting once more.

“...How?...Why?”

“I think you’ll find that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your eyes glitter like they are right now.”

Me? You think in shock, looking away, down, towards the floor, unable to process the implications of his words.

He takes a step closer to you, catching your attention, you turn to him just as he reaches you.

For a long moment, all you do is look into each other’s eyes. You take a slow breath, breathing in his citrus smell, the bergamot chasing after you.

You turn your head back to the painting, studying it while you feel his eyes on you.

“It’s gorgeous, Alpha, thank you.” You feel so much emotion, that it fills your throat and threatens to spill out.

Your lip wobbles, glancing up at him for a moment, and then turning away when you realise that he can probably see the tears in your eyes.

You feel his hand on your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?”

“It’s stupid, sorry.” You take a deep breath, sighing when he extends a handkerchief to you that you accept gratefully.

His hand moves, to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Talk to me.” He whispers, his breath disturbing your hair.

“No one’s ever-” You let out a little laugh of delirium, “-No one’s ever done something so thoughtful for me.”

He hums, as though he understands, sympathizes with you, he wraps his arms around you, tucks your head into his chest.

His scent wraps around you, soothing you almost instantly, your eyes flutter shut as you register the beat of his heart below your ear.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

You do.

Dinner comes in a few moments later, and he guides you to the table just behind, with soft, comfortable chairs to settle into. He even checks in on your level of ease, inquiring about the brightness, and whether or not it was satisfactory. You smile softly, calmly reassuring him that the area was perfect, the tint on the windows keeping the intensity of the light low. Dim and comfortable, you can’t really ask for anything more.

The first course is a light broth, and you're a little confused that they brought this out without having you look at a menu.

It's definitely refreshing, to not have to struggle with a decision on what to eat, but you're not sure if to ask William about it, in case it's just some rich person custom that you're unfamiliar with.

In any case, this arrangement pleases you because it means you can stare at The Kiss in admiration while the sun sets, casting a soft orange glow around the room, enhancing the mostly gold painting.

“Will you tell me about it?” William asks, and you spare a shy glance at him.

He tilts his head in the direction of the painting. You swallow your food, gathering your thoughts to answer.

“It's inspired by the painter and his lover, it's one of the most popular paintings of an alpha and omega pairing. There was a… speculation that they were soulmates, but I'm not sure how true that is. Some people think that because the omega is turning away, that the kiss isn't consensual… but I don't think so, she seems… happy to me.”

“You don't think they were soulmates?”

You turn to William.

“Not really, I don't… believe in the soulmate theory.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“No?” He says curiously.

You shake your head.

“It's a little unreal to think that there’s some kind of perfect match for a person.”

“It's not necessarily a perfect match like in the movies, it's a suggestion of�� compatibility really.” He says.

You blink, studying his expression, wanting to express your disbelief that he would believe in something so farfetched but not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It's not even a perfect match, it's the way the theory specifically targets alpha and omega pairings. As if omegas aren't already bound by their biology enough, someone had to come up with an idea to hold us back even further by romanticising the concept of an alpha match.” You keep your tone calm, so that he understands you're not upset.

He tilts his head in contemplation.

“You don't like the idea of being with an alpha?”

You swallow.

“That's… not what I mean. I just don't like being forced into thinking that it's my only option in search of companionship.”

He makes a face of contemplation, seeming to understand where you were coming from.

Plus, it was a trick alphas had used with you in the past to encourage you to stay in toxic environments.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

You had been fooled before, it would not happen again.

William studies you for a long moment, and you gaze back evenly, before he smiles, tilting his head once more to lighten the mood.

“You make a good point, but still, I can’t help but point out the ways alphas are made for omegas, of course a pairing between them would be stronger.”

His words take you aback, it's the first time someone has ever made the comment that alphas are the ones made for omegas, usually they say it the other way around.

“Maybe…” You concede, unable to stop yourself from thinking about his words. You wonder for a brief moment if he was made for you.

It sends a warm feeling across your chest.

You turn your head, looking up at The Kiss.

“My past experience has made me skeptical about the entire theory, Alphas before have used it to keep me compliant.”

He lets out an audible breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, you find his fists curled and his head dipped low.

The scent of anger hits you, spicy in the air, like a mix between smoke and hot peppers.

“Alpha?” You whisper in concern, worried that his anger is directed toward you.

Tentatively, you reach out, fingers shaking slightly as you touch one of his clenched fists.

He relaxes the fist, turns his hand upward so that his palm is pressed upward into yours. Your palm tingles where you touch.

“Angry on your behalf, omega,” He tries to explain with a low voice, “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

Realisation washes over you. The smell of his anger excites you now that you understand it's not directed at you.

You feel butterflies, you feel warmth, you suck in a deep breath to get some semblance of control over your hindbrain.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Your voice, almost a purr.

He blinks, studying you, his eyes shifting from surprise to pleased as he realises the effect he has on you.

The sound of footsteps coming your way makes you draw back.

The second course is lobster pasta, creamy and delicious and you try extra hard not to make yourself messy while eating it.

“What do you think?” He asks between bites of his food.

You look up, eyes wide as he gazes back at you.

You swallow your food, thinking hard about what to say.

“I'm still skeptical about the soulmate theory, but maybe you're right that it does exist. Looking at the painting up close, you see that gold aura surrounding both of them? I think that's supposed to represent their bond. They loved each other, there's no question there.”

You watch a smile pull onto his perfect face.

“I meant the meal, sweetheart.”

Your face grows warm.

“Oh… It's good!” You look down at the plate shyly, “Yeah.”

He chuckles.

“You're very cute when you're shy.”

You bite the edge of your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He grins down at you and something warm settles in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you could, maybe he would let you.

In this beautiful dress you feel like you're not yourself, your insecurities washing away under his gaze. For the first time, you’re just an omega, enjoying the company of an alpha that you hope could be yours in time.

You think about being in his arms, the way he makes you feel, his ability to soothe you, the ways you hope he would sate you.

You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before your pheromones give away your needy state of mind.

Should you take him up on his offer to be his Omega? Would it be possible to balance that? How would it even work?

“William?” You say softly.

He pauses his movements to look at you.

“Earlier- Maria called you ‘Billy’- made me wonder if you were friends?”

The corner of his lips pull into an affectionate smile, you try really hard not to worry about the other omega.

“Maria is mated to my brother, Frank. She owns a small salon on the east side, I thought she would help you feel comfortable.”

That's so thoughtful, you think.

“Yes, she was amazing, thank you.”

If this was a trap, then it was well set, you couldn't see a flaw, you didn't have any reason to think he could be like other Alphas.

“Everyone has called me “Billy” for as long as I can remember. My real name had never really appealed to me until I heard you say it.”

You give him a warm smile, your stomach fluttering at the privilege you didn't realize you had until now.

You wanted this so much that it terrified you. To be his Omega- what would it be like? To have unrestrained access to him, to be able to scent him as you please, to be scented in return.

He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away, it catches your attention. Your eyes widen when you realise your pheromones are heavy in the air.

His eyes roll shut, he lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling because of you for the second time tonight.

It doesn't help, the look of him, barely restrained, fighting his nature with every ounce of self control only makes you want him more.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, scared to break his focus.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

“Don't be.” He responds, his voice so deep that it almost makes you shiver with how pleasing it sounds.

You suck in deep breaths too, to calm yourself, eyes drifting to the painting to let it distract you.

You certainly were a match, there was no question about it, the urge to tear at each other was there, the only thing holding you back was social etiquette, and your internal reservations.

The effect your heat must have had on him- you almost feel sorry for what you might have put him through.

Dessert is a caramel drizzled pecan cookie, soft and chewy, the right amount of spices and sugar that makes you lick your fingers afterwards with the knowledge that it was the best cookie you've ever had.

You catch him looking at you with kind eyes and you try your best not to shy away from his gaze.

When you excuse yourself to the restroom, you try to look like you know where you're going, at least until you're out of his eyesight, and then you wander around the empty restaurant until you find a sign pointing you in the right direction.

You’re in one of the stalls when you hear loud voices and footsteps.

“-my god! That is literally the hottest Alpha I’ve ever seen in real life.” A first voice says, on the side of a little too high pitched for your sensitive ears.

“I knoooow,” The other person responds, “I would literally do anything he asked me to do.”

You pause, feeling a little strange to interrupt their obviously personal conversation by stepping out.

“I heard from Tim that he rented out the entire restaurant for the night just to impress some omega.”

Wait, were they talking about William?

You hear the stall next to you open and close, the taps turning on.

“No, I think they had to clear the restaurant for the night because of the painting and something about security.”

“Oh, that makes sense, the amount he must have paid to get all that done in one evening. God, I would jump him literally after dessert.”

You hear a groan, the sound of water as the taps turn on.

“I know right? I’ve been totally scenting the air in hopes that he gives me a second look. Nothing too obvious, only subtle enough for him. I really, really hope…”

The rest is unintelligible as the voices fade.

You wait a few more moments to make sure they’re really gone before you unlatch the door and step out.

It’s a lot of information to have overheard, and you’re not really sure what to think.

You step up to the sink, washing your hands methodically, reaching for a little towel to dry your hands, before looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You smile at yourself, hindbrain preening that Alpha had gone through such lengths to capture and hold your attention. That maybe, Alpha wanted you, really really wanted you and no other omega would do.

He’s standing at the painting when you see him again, the table has been cleared, and you watch him as he focuses on the canvas in front of him.

He turns to look at you when he catches movement in his peripherals.

You’re very skittish to approach him, your mind spinning at a mile a minute, trying to both overthink and under simplify the actions you want to make.

The expression on your face must worry him, his eyebrows draw together as he studies you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks calmly, and you lift your head, studying his face of concentration.

You part your lips, trying to speak, no words able to leave your moving lips.

He dips his head, trying to make sense of the nothingness escaping you.

His scent fills your nose, the citrus, the bergamot, a very new touch of spice that pushes your hindbrain into desperation.

“Alpha.” You whisper softly, a touch of yearning in your voice, tilting your head up to press your lips to his.

It’s an instant, and total erasure of any higher thought. The way his mouth feels against yours, like something ancient and primal finding its way back to each other again. A familiarity that your mind and body has been searching for from the day you presented.

It’s over too soon, even though it feels like it lasted forever. Time slows as you lean away, looking up at him, searching his eyes for any sign that you’ve made the wrong move, the ghost of his touch tingling at your lips.

You listen to the depth of his breathing, your heart hammering anxiously in your chest, awaiting his reaction. You catch a flare of his scent, the citrus notes deepening and your hindbrain eases your anxiety, a response that tells you that Alpha is pleased.

Finally, he makes a low hum, stepping forward, one arm winding around your back so that your bodies are pressed flush to each other.

“Omega.” He rumbles in response, fingers under your chin to tilt your head, guiding your mouth to his once more.

His mouth is insistent, pressing back, meeting every move of your desire with a response of his own. He moans, his warm breath on your tongue as the kiss grows into something… more.

Losing yourself, your hands cling to his shoulders, finding balance as you rise onto your toes, desperate to taste him, to feel the ache of yearning ease with each move of his mouth.

His lips are soft, sinful, you can feel his barely restrained movements, his hand gliding to grip the back of your neck, trapping you in place as if you could ever think about departing from his embrace.

Your scent gland tingles, spilling your need into the air, your body trying its best to entice him.

His mouth grows more insistent, demanding, and you find yourself responding, lips parting, tongue reaching out to gently graze along his bottom lip.

His hold on you tightens, fingers gripping your hip deliciously, desire pooling low in your stomach in response.

Both of his hands cup your face, kisses slowing as if he's trying to find the strength to stop but unable to.

You smile into the kisses, each one more meaningful than the last, until finally he pauses, looking down at you with a pleased expression on his face.

His thumb glides along your lips, the scent of both your desires intermingling heavily in the air.

“I take it then, that you don't want me to leave you alone after this?”

You huff out a laugh, almost rolling your eyes.

He grins too, before leaning in to get one more kiss.

“Maybe,” you murmur softly, “Maybe I don't.”

He hums in agreement, dipping his head, unable to stop himself from getting yet another kiss.

Your heart feels so full in your chest, it feels like you're going to burst with the flood of emotion. He doesn't push you into anything, avoids touching your scent glands though you know you both want him to. You can feel his fingers tightening their grip on your cheek and jaw, trying their hardest not to wander.

His scent grows more potent in the room, and by the time you leave, the betas in the restaurant are giving him their largest doe eyed stares.

It's a shame for them that he barely spares them a glance, his hand settled on the small of your back to put you at ease by making you feel protected.

His scent overwhelms you in the car, but you've been aching and wet for a while and you've just kind of gotten used to the discomforts of unresolved desire. You know without a doubt that you're going to have to relieve this ache inside of you by yourself tonight, and it's definitely going to be his name on your tongue the entire time you do it.

You take a long look at him beside you, and you wonder if he would be doing the same.

Tucked into his side, it's easy to tilt your head up, and press your nose to his scent gland, breathing him in, hearing him groan in response, your body tingling.

He doesn't stop you, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip hard to stop yourself from kissing the spot on the base of his neck.

It's surreal, the time you spend with him, that when he stops at the wrong building, it's like a punch to the gut.

This is where you'd lied and told him you lived… because you were ashamed of your real address.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks politely, warm reassurance in his eyes that he simply wants to make sure you're safe.

“No.” You answer hastily, smiling in an attempt to put him at ease, “I'm alright, thank you.”

You glance down at your strawberry dress, anxiety filling you at the thought of being seen in something like this, that it might catch attention you didn't want.

“It's cold outside, do you want my coat?”

You blink up at him in surprise.

He gives you a teasing smile, reaching for a garment on the seat in front of him, producing a familiar coat and extending it to you.

You swallow, accepting the coat on autopilot, face heating as you remember the things you did with this coat during your last heat.

You bring it up to your nose, hindbrain in control, taking a slow inhale of his scent.

Fuck, it was delicious. Your mouth waters as you meet his dark eyes.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You purr, sliding the coat on, over your dress, watching his eyes darken further at the sound of your voice.

He reaches up, trapping a lock of your hair between his fingers, twisting it, tugging on it gently as his hand slides down.

He looks like he’s deep in thought, but you’re just not sure about what.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

Stepping out of the car, leaving him behind, your limbs grow heavy with protest the further away you get from him.

When you make it into the building, you finally see his SUV drive away.

There’s an ache to leaving you behind that leaves Billy both confused and captivated.

He lets out a slow breath, sinking into the seat, head tipped back.

Keeping himself in check had been the most difficult thing he’d ever experienced. To look at you, was to want you, and to want you, was to need you. Every look, every touch, every smile on your mouth was a lesson in self control.

He was unbelievably afraid of scaring you away, that his control would slip, and his desires would show, and they would terrify you into leaving.

The ways he wanted you, the ways he thought about you. He lets out a soft groan, tugging at his shirt to get himself more air, but all he can smell is you.

He wants the feel of your bare hips in his hands, the taste of your skin in his mouth, his lips over your scent gland, your pitiful little whines filling his ears as he takes his time with you, discovering every way one human can make another fall apart, so that he can put you back together again.

Thoughts, that were maybe too insane to be thinking after a second date. Thoughts that would make you run if you knew just how close he’d been to actually carrying them out. No Omega, had ever made him hurt with the fear of rejection quite like this before.

That solid ache in his chest to be in your presence was only getting stronger, and then you'd kissed him.

He lifts a hand, pressing it to his mouth, remembering the way your lips had felt, the way your scent had sweetened. He resists a groan, your scent calling out to him like a beacon in the dark.

With his eyes closed, he could feel a pull, drawing him in the opposite direction of where he was going.

His apartment is lonely. The silence is loud, the smell is all wrong. He fits himself into his single sofa chair, large enough that his pretty Omega could fit herself into the space beside him, or on top of him if she’d like. He sips on the whiskey in his hand, an attempt to ease his nerves, to make the wrongness of his place feel a little less so.

He lets the silence fill him, wonders what you’re doing, thinks about texting you. He opens his phone and sees all his sent messages.

Billy hesitates.

Maybe he should wait, let you reach out this time, whenever you were ready.

Puts his phone down, thinks about you more, groans when he catches your scent on his clothes.

It hurt to wait. It made his chest burn with the notion that he couldn’t just reach out to you, because you might draw back.

He presses a hand to his chest, tries to take a deep breath and be patient.

The whiskey is almost finished when he feels his phone vibrate.

He picks it up, and smiles.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo

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mikkelo · 3 months ago

Text

The Boston's Finest

FADE IN:

INT. BOSTON - DAY

In cassettes and broken tapes, there lie the cityscape of Boston with ambivalence no matter how distorted it may be. Every bouts of liberty and free spirited wanderings surged along the poster filled brick stone walls where the stifling humidity clouds the painted asphalt road. The Central Square neighborhood where shots of kaleidoscopes spread wide on the walls of Modica Way. The dewy petrichor from the cobblestones of Beacon Hill after the rain. The windowpanes in the porch reflect the teetering memories where life expands in the humble avenue. It is where the clip ends but the soul refuses to relent.

It was the 1980s and the world witnessed an uprising in the cinema industry where Die Hard (1988) and Rambo (1988) revolutionized discourse about on-screen violence, Flashdance (1983) and Purple Rain (1984) transformed the power of melodic storytelling, and David Lynch and the Coen Brothers reinforced the auteur theory of directive control. Before the glamour of the groundbreaking dawn of their careers, Hollywood stars Matt Damon and Ben Affleck once chased their shadows in the pavements with their faces smeared with dirt and splotches of heat in their linen shirts together. With their houses blocks apart from Auburn to Cottage Street, the two crossed paths in the latter’s residence while their mothers, Nancy Carlsson-Paige, an early childhood education professor, and Christopher Anne Boldt, who taught in public school, respectively had a wonderful chat. As they confront the tides of fame together with their youthful ardor, their relationship has become a cornerstone for defining a strong platonic bond, a losing art in the mainstream media, where Boston etched itself as their refuge both in conjoined grievances and relief.

CUT TO:

Title: The Warrior and the Clown

INT. CAMBRIDGE - DAY

One can say that the water holds memories for young Affleck who spent a great deal of his childhood under the fins of humpback whales and the dangers of rushing waves. He began his career as C.T. Grandville, the grandson of Captain Grandville, who was played by the scientist Peter Marston, in PBS educational series The Voyage of the Mimi (1984). For the grade schoolers watching, venturing into this journey was met with no trepidations as the show provided valuable information about the physical and biological processes of the planet. After the series ended, he went on to attend Cambridge Rindge and Latin School, where he would encounter Damon again (calling him Matty D.) since they became fast friends due to their shared interests for baseball and movies.

BEN (V.O.) I was 8, he was 10, he was a big kid, he played baseball, he was really cool, he had a bowl cut—those little feathered ones that we all wanted, of course—and he— And he was, you know, nice to me. And we were both interested in the same things.

Having a tad advantage to his age, Damon showed a more mature and passionate outlook for acting, which gave Affleck the boost to take it seriously. This difference in intensity of the mutual linkage they have gave Affleck the affinity to put Damon in a pedestal, who embodied a total control in his limbs and motions the moment when he was possessed by the role he played. In both admiration to his craft and character, Damon’s words were like ancient knowledge to Affleck who looked up to someone whom he believed had a superior integrity in the art of acting than him.

BEN (V.O.) I would periodically go off and do a little Voyage of the Mimi. So Matt was a little threatened by that. And when I got to the high school, he kind of pulled me aside. He said, “Listen, man! All right? This is the theater. It’s not about your looks, okay? It’s about the work.” And I took that very seriously. I thought that I was hearing something real, like the words of wisdom from a guy who understood it.

Granted, it was not a bond fully realized, yet their childish vigor and innocent wonderment were already the first step of what was anticipated. However, what made their friendship soar in a vast degree was in the January of 1987 when the blade grasses crunched in every step as the soles of leather boots left myriads of trails on the coated pristine snow. A shift in dynamics which catapulted their connection into a newfound nature of commitment where it evolved from baseless competition towards the unequivocal dedication to be with each other in whatever shenanigans one might be.

CONAN (inquiring) I know that you’re from the Boston area as am I, and there’s this reputation that like, Boston guys know how to fight. […] Did you ever get in any fights as a kid? MATT (reminiscing) I’m like you, I really tried to avoid them because there are people in Boston who really do know how to fight and you know if you’re one of them or not. But the last fight I got into, who would’ve been in the mid-80s, and I remember we had a snow day at school so we would all meet in the Cambridge Common and play tackle football because there would be a foot of snow on the ground and so you can’t really get hurt. It was a really fun thing to do and I mouthed off a kid that I knew but he was like your height. He was six-foot six, right? And I might have been 5 (foot) 3 at the time. And I said some—I scorned on him or something, I don’t know—but he came for me and it was like a mountain of a guy came at me and I was like, ”Oh, man.” So before I knew it, I was on the ground. He was above me and I was like, “This is gonna be bad.” And it was right then that little five-foot two Ben Affleck tackled this dude off of me like out of nowhere. I was like a junior and he was like a freshman and he tackled this kid off of me, literally at the risk of his own life. Really quickly, everyone had [broken] it up because they wanted to get back to the football game. That was fun and this was ridiculous and that was the end of it. The kid was reasonable and he was, “God, I’m not fighting. Let’s play.” But I remember, that was like a big moment going like this guy, he will put himself in a really bad spot for me like, this is a good friend.

The proclaimed drama geeks dominated the corners of the school’s theatre department as they consistently turned themselves into a blank slate of a paper vessel where the letters to be imprinted on it gave birth to the soul of the character they portrayed. Once they return to existence after breathing differently through living many lives, they came back as different entities where all the emotions they played amounted to the hope of bringing it on a larger stage. Regardless of how they were perceived in the social circles within the school, they always remained to be thick as thieves for whatever context, which was enough for them.

BEN (V.O.) I’ve established that we were very nerdy and a little weird. We used to have "business lunches,” in what was called the Media Cafeteria, which at the time there was a big ESL portion of our public high school—it was like 2,600 kids—and that was where the ESL kids— I don’t know why that was where we— We liked to be surrounded by people who spoke other languages. I’m not sure what it was. Maybe we didn’t want them to actually hear our business lunch, because no business was conducted. But we plotted things. We planned our careers.

The Cambridge Rindge and Latin School produced and adapted various stories which the department invested their efforts in. Some of the plays the school had in the time period where the two were involved were Guys and Dolls in the Summer '85 where Damon, still a freshman, played one of the gamblers, and The Visit in Fall-Winter '86 where Affleck, now a freshman, played a character as Damon’s son. Additionally, Damon’s “confrontation” with Affleck on how “acting is not about the looks, but the work” happened in this time frame. Another plays they performed were Pippin in Summer '87 where Damon played the lead role and Affleck worked behind the scenes because his voice was not for the audience. And lastly, the Alice in Wonderland in Fall '89 where Affleck took the role of the Caterpillar.

MATT (taunting) Say, Ben, why don't you tell us about the time you played the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland? BEN (gearing up for a cutting contest) Yup, I was the zany, hookah-smoking caterpillar. I chose to play the role wrapped in garbage bags held together by Scotch tape. Now, if I were to play that caterpillar today, I might do it another way. CASEY (commenting) It was an underrated performance. Those trash bags were a bold choice. BEN (retaliating) So, Matt, why don't you favor us with your version of Morning Glory from Pippin?

After their eventful years inseparably playing various roles in high school, the two would bid each other farewell as Damon decided to continue his education in Harvard University. When Affleck completed his last two years, he attended the University of Vermont because of his attachment in his high school girlfriend who was not even studying in the same university he was in. Nevertheless, the two never broke contact and remained close as ever.

BEN (V.O.) Matt was definitely more… of a kind of achiever. It was inconceivable to him that you wouldn’t get an “A” or do really well. So I did really well [in] my first two years in high school and then when Matt left, I would cut class and… get in all kinds of trouble.”

In retrospect, their escapades as children of theatre might earn them some cringe looks. However, their joint experiences watered the seeds of their dreams they planted themselves, as well as their friendship that helped it to germinate much quickly by always having each other’s back. This was also the time where they made discoveries about themselves that sealed their brand as a person.

JIMMY (pulling out the picture) This is a photo, I think, you sent it to Matt just the other day just to go “Hey! Remember these dudes?” Here’s 17-year-old Matt and Ben in a photo booth. Look at this. BEN (laughing) Now, listen. Hard not to see that those guys are gonna make it. MATT (agreeing) Yeah, those guys clearly have “star” written all over them. JIMMY (amused) That’s awesome. MATT (pointing something out) You know, I think it was the matching puka necklaces that give it away. JIMMY (affirming) Best buddies. That’s BFFs right there. Come on. That’s BFFs for life.

CUT TO:

Title: The Crumbs on the Manuscript: Part 1

INT. UNITED STATES - DAY

It was a paradise for some, but a rabbit hole for those who only have their baggage, a couple of penny, and a dream. Done were the days where the two would cross the suburban homes in Somerville, roaming in the Assembly Square Mall where the big pictures were as avid moviegoers, and frolicking in the Harvard Square; it is the transitional period from their sentimental film reviewing antics to making appearances in wide screens, albeit a small one in their fresh start. This consisted of moving back and forth in different borders of United States for auditioning countless roles. Kevin Costner as Ray Kinsella in Field of Dreams (1989) recalled the remarkable enthusiasm of Damon and Affleck as two of the extras among the thousands in the movie. Even though they were one with the blurry heads and said that they only did it “to go to Fenway,” the sheer exhilaration of partaking in the film gave a lasting impression on what it was like to be in front of the camera.

KEVIN (remembering) They were sitting in the stands, like college guys, and they came up, and they both leaned in at the same time, leaned back at the same time, looked at each other at the same time as we talked. And they had this big enthusiasm. They were on fire. I do remember them, absolutely.

After three years of their first exposure from the said film, the two made their new appearances in School Ties (1992). This time, Damon played one of the antagonists against Brendan Fraser who played the lead role. On the flipside, Affleck played a smaller role as one of the bullies as well who performed violent acts to Fraser’s Jewish character.

BEN (remembering) I knew my nine lines back to front. I loved every day I was on a call sheet, every day I got to come to work. You were there, in Boston. It was one of the best experiences of my life. We literally were next to a dump and thought we were kings. I knew I was playing the one shitty antisemitic bully character, so I figured it was probably not going to be great for me career-wise, but I loved it.

Other films that contributed to their foundation in acting together were first, the college comedy Glory Daze (1995) where Affleck starred as the lead role named Jack, an art student who was driven by the post-college angst of the fleeting whiff of liberty before graduation, and Damon had a non-speaking role as one of Affleck’s former roommates. The other was Chasing Amy (1997), another lead role for Affleck who played Holden McNeil, the love-stricken comic book writer chasing his love of his life that turned out to be a lesbian. Damon had a cameo role and played as one of the executives who helped Affleck’s character pitch a business offer. The contrast in their perception of each other’s fame was intriguing to behold as Affleck jokingly claimed that he and Kevin Smith, a well-known director and believer of the two, were riding the coattails of Damon’s larger stardom, whereas Damon was more laid back about himself and only “tried” to get in Affleck’s films with Smith. Both also revealed to auditioned for Dead Poets Society (1989) but failed to secure a role and worked in a local movie theatre.

BEN (humorously) I slept on Kevin's couch, and it was like, “You got a buddy, this guy Matt, will he be in it?” And Matt was better known than I was. [Smith] was totally happy to exploit Matt’s stardom, for his own benefit, and so was I.

Most notably, the two disclosed the fact that they opened a joint bank account with “RiverP” as the code based from River Phoenix’s rising influence in the film industry. Both Damon and Affleck set forth a new adventure in the incongruous lands of New York where they were repeatedly hustling in the bustling audition sites for various television roles, some Burger King commercials, and local voiceovers that were not documented thoroughly for public viewing. Both their devotion for acting far transcended from only achieving success to also making sure that they were part of each other’s moments of triumph and lament.

MATT (V.O.) It was unusual, but we needed the money for auditions. BEN (V.O.) We were going to help each other and be there for each other. It was like, “You’re not going to be alone. I’m not going to be alone. Let’s go out there and do this together.”

Just like when they were two small naivetes discussing baseball mechanics on a bench of the local park, a candy bar from one will be shared willingly, cheerfully, obligingly with the other.

BEN (V.O.) If either of us needed money he could borrow it from the other. Neither one of us ended up taking. It was never one-sided. MATT (V.O.) If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half—that’s just the way it’s been.

That being said, the two will always be embedded in each other’s life whether they recklessly wallow in the pools of Napa Valley wineries or they open a hotdog stall at the Dodger Games while tracing the stars through their sparkling squinting eyes.

BEN (V.O.) Matt and I had identical interests, so whether we ended up successful or making hot dogs at Dodgers games, we knew we'd end up doing the same sort of thing. The remaining friends part was pretty consistent. We saw each other all the time, we talked on the phone all the time.

CUT TO:

Title: The Crumbs on the Manuscript: Part 2

INT. LOS ANGELES - DAY

While spending his time in the halls of Harvard, Damon conceived an original story that was a waiting ticket for a momentous future. He requested a favor for Affleck to act out the scenes of this story with him in front of the class. Consequently, this project gave him one of the reasons to drop out from college in 1997 in addition to them being unable to get the roles they wanted for themselves. They reckoned that if that was the case, then they could make their own film even if it would only be available in cheap cassette tapes.

BILL (V.O.) Were you guys always okay with you being the lead and him being the sidekick? MATT (V.O.) Yeah. I mean, I started it in college in a playwriting class, and so it was all established by the time—That as my final—My final paper was, I was supposed to write a one-act play. And instead I handed in the first act of a movie. And I said to the professor, "I think I failed your class. This is not what you asked for, but this is what came out and I really like it." He gave me an A in the class. Yeah, it was really cool, because I didn't get a lot of straight A's at Harvard. And he went, "No, wherever this goes—I don't know where it's going, but stay with it." And it was really great, because I didn't think of myself as a writer. I was an actor. And neither did Ben, for that matter.

After starring in various roles and earning their wages, the two promptly rented a house in the neighborhood of Venice Beach, Los Angeles where they reportedly wasted their money away for hedonistic pleasures and decided to get an apartment in Eagle Rock neighborhood. Damon and Affleck lived together as broke in-and-out of role actors after spending a whole lot of their earnings in drinks and taxes. Subsequently, this is where they ultimately decided to work on the script of Good Will Hunting (1997) seriously.

BEN (V.O.) I lived all over the place. I lived in Hollywood, then I moved. [Matt Damon] and I got money from School Ties, and we blew it all in a couple of months. We made $35,000 or $40,000 each and thought we were rich. And we were shocked later on to find out how much we owed in taxes.

Good Will Hunting (1997) turned out to be an opportunity for them to combine their creative outputs and transform it into having a life on its own. They wrote the script largely influenced by their own personal upbringings in Boston through their spontaneous and completely erratic improvised sessions of jotting down details. Writing, even admittedly not their forte, was an intuitive process for them, and just how they meticulously carve the path of Will Hunting’s fate, they were also unknowingly writing a new chapter to their wondrous epic of Hollywood breakthrough.

MATT (V.O.) And so that was in late January, and then in March I came out here [to L.A.] for Spring Break to audition for stuff, and stayed on Ben's couch and showed it to him. I was like, "Hey, I wrote this thing, I don't know what the fuck to do with it." And Ben read it and goes, "I don't know what to do with it either, but we should do it together." And I was like, "Sold! I'm in!" And so that was really the—I trusted no one in my life more than him. And we were just, you know—He was as close a friend as I’d ever had in my life or ever could imagine having. And I respected him, and I respected his taste. I mean, we—Our taste kind of formed together, you know what I mean? Those teenage years where you’re spreading your wings and gaining your own independence: we did that together. And so I know he would read a situation the same way I would. You know what I mean? We were just very compatible, in that way.

The film starred Damon as Will Hunting, the titular protagonist who was a troubled genius working as a janitor in the prestigious Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) alongside Affleck as Chuckie Sullivan, one of Hunting’s closest confidants, and Robin Williams as the therapist Sean Maguire. Damon and Affleck sold the screenplay to Castle Rock Entertainment in 1994 for $675,000 where its president, Rob Reiner, told them to drop the thriller aspect and instead focus on the emotional ties of Hunting and Maguire. However, due to a conflict, Miramax Films bought the screenplay’s rights and put it into production with Gus Van Sant as the director. True to their nature, their earnings from the film were gone in few moments after it became a hit classic and a commercial success.

BEN (talking in front of the curtain) We sold it for $600,000, we split that, $300,000 each, and then the agents got $30,000. So we had $270,000, and we paid about $160,000 in taxes, so we had $110,000, each bought $55,000 Jeep Cherokees, and then had $55,000 left, which naturally we decided to rent a $5,000-a-month party house on Glencoe Way by the Hollywood Bowl, and we were broke in six months.

In their many attempts to rewrite every course of action and applicable dialogues, the crumbs on the shared candy bar remained sitting idly on the many drafts of manuscript, and still was the arrival of the sprinkling mess that was a testament of their love and camaraderie.

CUT TO:

Title: The Fortune Favors the Fools

INT. SHRINE AUDITORIUM - NIGHT

The pillars of Hollywood are where the gods and monsters of the industry were ensconced. Here they carve their legacy in all its pulchritudinous grandeur where they race their cars in Sunset Boulevard and Vine Street. Settled in the Shrine Auditorium, Los Angeles, the commencement of the 70th Academy Awards in 1998 propelled the trajectory of their future in an unimaginable heights. It was a turbulent period in the picture palaces where contenders such as James Cameron stirred the tides of cathartic grief with his poignant depiction of tragedy in Titanic (1997) and Kim Basinger’s seductive charisma in L.A. Confidential (1997) worked like a charm to the mass. Damon and Affleck paved their way into the culmination of the grand clockwork inside the movie industry along with the elite A-listers who took their seats on the fine cushion chairs. Billy Crystal, with all of his entertaining antics, sang an ode to the honorable artists.

MATT (V.O.) To go from that experience where, you know, we filled out the (Oscar ballot) sheets and we were betting on who was gonna win, to being in the front row of the Oscars together with our moms—in one year—it felt like warp speed. And to have Billy Crystal singing a song about us.

Damon and Affleck, in their plain tuxedos and bow ties, managed to claim their unexpected Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay in Good Will Hunting (1997). The crowd was masked with massive shouts of uproar and sheer delight the moment when Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau presented the award, which can be liken into them, a comedic duo, passing the torch of friendship to the young novices. The two of them were remembered as sweethearts for bringing their mothers as their dates to the said event. Such gesture, even if it was seen as juvenile to some, garnered them an appreciation from the public for looking back at the pioneers among their fans and also their first pillars of hope when they partook in the tumultuous road of acting.

BEN (V.O.) We were sitting next to our moms and we won, and we kind of hugged our moms. And I remember, how everyone had made such a big thing out of it. As if this was such a novelty. And I remember thinking, being insecure, like, “Why? Why is it weird that we’re bringing our moms?” Like, “Who else do you think we would bring?” You know what I mean? There was nobody else that was going to go. That was it. Of course our moms were gonna go. That was, really was innocent and not faked.

Their signature impromptu speech was a blabbering mess and their words were caught up in a maze, yet the innocence emanating from their still neophyte minds inside the logistics of Hollywood was a testament to their authenticity as starting actors in the realer side of the business. Up until the present times, Affleck boasts his pride as he still remains to be the youngest winner to bag this prestigious award.

MATT (V.O.) Ben and I talked about it recently. We were younger than we felt. I was 22 and Ben was 20 when we first started writing it. And then it came out when I was 27 and Ben was 25. I mean, Ben’s still the youngest writer to ever win an Oscar for screenwriting. I’d be the youngest if it weren’t for Ben. Fucking asshole.

In another but shared spotlight, Robin Williams also snatched the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor from the same film. His performance cemented his legacy as one of the most beloved actor-comedians who ever graced the common folk with his winning smile and witty sense of humor. Williams’ roles as Sean Maguire in Good Will Hunting (1997) and John Keating in Dead Poets Society (1989) resonated to the young souls through his earnest warmth of devotion in the form of paternal love. The integrity of his characters, which was molded from his own, poked the bubble of pressure that led to vulnerability.

ROBIN (V.O.) There's an emotional core to Good Will Hunting that came from Ben and Matt. They have this unspoken twins thing. They care for each other, yet they bust on each other. And that was a great bass line to work with. I'm very proud of this movie. It has a resonance.

The accolades for Good Will Hunting did not stop in its tracks as it emerged victorious in other award-giving bodies. Damon and Affleck also won the Golden Globes Award for Best Screenplay - Motion Picture and the Critics’ Choice Movie Award for Best Original Screenplay. The disbelief hung in the air but the emblems of their cherished faith in their line of work brought a newfound admiration in each other’s professional work.

MATT (V.O.) It’s been really helpful to check in with Ben throughout this whole surreal process over the last 25 years. I think the shock of becoming famous is so… I mean, that messed me up for a couple years because the whole world just starts to treat you differently. And so your subjective experience changes. It’s like somebody rewrites your code in the Matrix, but just your code. It’s like, “Oh, my whole experience has been altered in this really overwhelming way.” And so to have somebody who I’ve known my whole life, who I can be like, “Hey man, is this happening to you? Are you…” And to check in with him, it was really, really helpful. Stabilizing.

All of a sudden, they climbed up the ladder of prestige and in the throes of loneliness at the top, they basked in the presence of one another.

CUT TO:

Title: The Best They Ever Were

EXT. THE STREETS - DAY

As they walk in the arduous path they earnestly tread on, Damon and Affleck solidified their careers as one of the most prolific actors and filmmaker collaborators. Their fates were sealed in a fervid turmoil after that eventful night while carrying their early designed bulky cell phones in one hand and the golden trophy statuette in another. Time went on and success found its way running towards them in multitudes. Damon then had won the Screen Actors Guild Awards (SAG) for Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture in the movie The Departed (2007) with the cast, as well as two Critics' Choice Movie Awards for Best Actor in The Talented Mr. Ripley (2000) and Best Actor in an Action Movie in The Martian (2016). On the other hand, Affleck won the Screen Actors Guild Awards (SAG) for Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture in the movie Shakespeare in Love (1998) shared with the cast, another Academy Award for Best Picture as a producer in Argo (2013), and Santa Barbara International Film Festival’s (SBIFF) Modern Master Award for Argo (2013). Furthermore, the two also accepted the award for Guys of the Decade at the 10th Annual Guys Choice Awards in 2016.

The nature of their relationship has always been a sweet spot for breeding malice and amusement of many, yet both are secured enough to define what they are for each other amidst the public’s scrutiny.

WOMAN IN BLACK (gesturing with her hands) I didn’t know what your relationship is with Ben. Seeing you or to get, you know, known him your whole life— MATT (standing on the stairs) He’s my hetero-lifemate.

It goes to show how the concept of platonic bond is subjected to different interpolation because of how malleable and loosely defined its boundaries are. Moreover, histrionic commentaries over cultural norms and prejudices thrive in competitive capitalism where journalists are put in a game of catch to get a scoop on celebrity scandals with twisted headlines.

ELLEN (sitting cross-legged) So we're going to talk about it. I just heard it this morning, if you want to address it somehow. It's like when we do interviews, you say something and then people write it and it depends on—it’s out of context and it gets twisted around and something you said is getting twisted around and I want you to address it. MATT (sitting on the opposite couch) Yeah, it was just an interview with The Guardian that I just literally found out. I was talking about [how] actors are more effective when you know less about their personal lives and was talking about it in the context of when Ben and I first started, and people wrote all these articles when Good Will Hunting came out that we were gay because it was two guys who wrote the script, and feeling like “Oh, we can't even—.”Then you have to address it and then you would and then it's like, I’m not going to throw my friends under the bus who are gay and act like it's some kind of disease, you know. How do you even address it? […] I said this thing in The Guardian and it got turned into—I was just trying to say [that] actors are more effective when they're a mystery, right? And somebody picked it up and said gay actors should get back in the closet, which is, like, it's stupid. It's painful when things get said that you don't believe.

The mere fact that both Damon and Affleck remained to withstand the tribulations of exploitative industry, where privacy is compromised, speak volume to their commitment and loyalty towards each other. Writing their bond as a simple romance where they fit the conventional bill of being one is reductive in its essence because it takes away all nuances and intricacies of an outstanding platonic bond. Their relationship is supposed to remodel the foundation of a healthy friendship as it is a connection that is not codified through marriage contract or sexual attraction, but a shared mutual interest in something where both can celebrate and be dismal together. However, the public is not in the same page in terms of appreciating this kinship that rivals the so-called be-all and end-all type of love that is romance.

Decades passed through thousands of sunsets and millions of seconds, and their bodies had changed to match their shifting attitudes. However, their reverence and love for acting continue to stand unwavering in the midst of tempestuous conjectures and flashes like lightning strikes in their very faces. Currently, Damon lives in Brooklyn Heights, New York in a penthouse with the top two floors of a building spanning over the stunning views of the Manhattan skyline where he lives with Luciana Barroso and their daughters. Affleck, on the other hand, lives in a mansion in the Beverly Crest area of Los Angeles with Jennifer Lopez that stretches over 38,000 square feet, including a 12-bedroom main house and other amenities. The endless fields and valleys in between their locations were irrelevant against their will to collaborate again and screen write The Last Duel (2021) and co-found a studio together, the Artist Equity, to produce Air (2023).

BEN (sitting cross legged) I find the most wonderful thing about it was I loved coming to work everyday. I loved seeing Matt. I love—first of all, he's a genius. Having him as your anchor of your movie just makes it— MATT (gesturing Ben) See, 40-something-years it took you to— BEN (cont’d) No, I didn't use to think this. But that just makes it so easy, and it was just so much fun. It kinda felt like just us and getting to do the thing that we wanted to do. I did. I loved it. I miss it everyday since. It was the best work experience of my life. In fact, that's the beautiful thing about this. It's that happiness was being able to be here everyday in Los Angeles, where my children are and see them everyday and have them come visit the set, work with my best friend my whole life. There's nothing more that I want in my life. I thought, well, this is it. This is what I've always wanted, you know. And then I thought that might mean I'm about to die. MATT (laughing) I literally had the same thought. I was like this is it. We've actually reached the mountaintop.

Though their milestone launched them into separate houses of big screens and magazine covers, all America’s crossroads and thoroughfares and boulevards and avenues attempt to intersect at one point despite their convoluted systems to lead their lavish vehicles together in taking the high road.

BEN (V.O.) Yeah. It is bizarre to have gone this far. And definitely a lot of—I don’t think I would be sane—or as sane to the extent that I am—had I not had somebody who was from where I grew up, and who was my best friend, and who was going through the same thing. So you could— Because I’m sure you guys all know: there are these moments in this business where you look around and go like, “Is this completely insane? I feel as though I’m coming unglued.” And having that, someone share that perspective—and then so, as we went on and on, so finally got to a place where—like with The Last Duel—it was like, “Why haven’t we just—? We had so much fun! Every day on that set was so much fun! Let’s just do this: let’s just do movies together and with people we like.”

No matter how high the altitude of their dreams had come to, the streets of Boston will always have a perpetual flame into the hearts of two actors fueled by their shared ambition. Their eyebrows are the Storrow Drive with the way they are on fleek, their lips are the undulating waves in Plymouth's Fresh Pond when they curve upwards, and their torso is the Fenway Park where the Boston Red Sox is. When they gaze into each other’s faces, the two natives would recall all their hilarious mischiefs and lasting jubilations as if they are themselves the incarnation of the place they will always call home.

GRAHAM (pointing Matt) And what was the phrase? There was a phrase that you heard. Was it in a movie you heard a phrase? “There goes...” MATT (realizing) Oh, yeah. Yeah, I said it to my mother. This is funny. I said—in the movie, The Natural, Robert Redford, and it's based on something the baseball player Ted Williams once said. But so his character, Roy Hobbs, in The Natural says, “All I want is to walk down the street, you know, and when I walk down the street for people to say 'There goes Roy Hobbs, the best he ever was,'” And my mother—and I love that movie—and I love Robert Redford, asked me one day, “What is it that you want, Matthew?“ and I said, “Look, all I want is to walk down the street someday and have people say, 'There goes Matt Damon, the best he ever was.'”

The streets will be just like the way they rode their Jeep Cherokee Sport once. Only this time, the babes with their mothers and the strangers in all varying places will notice what the glint in their eyes is. And here, in the venerated bastion of media, there goes the finest of them all, the best they ever were.

FADE OUT.

THE END

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