#reddevilmcnt

it was offensive. ludicrous. laughable, really. a lot could be said about celeste donahue, but calling her talentless and saying she only has gotten this far on her last name (and money) was genuine lie. just because she-who-she-won't-even-justify-naming has to pretend that she'll be anything more than an extra on a show that'll be canceled in a season doesn't mean the same can be said about her. so, it really wasn't celeste's fault that she took the time out of her busy schedule to dig around and find this person's weakness: the object of her — and everyone else's, apparently — affection was the new guest professor. he was an actor on hiatus, taking time to be with his family and teach a class at his alma mater. everyone knew that they didn't stand a chance given his committed status, but there was no challenge too grand for her. she was going to be back at this person twice: taking the lead in an upcoming production and seducing the teacher.

and because calculated was her middle name, she was careful in how she approached her mission. luckily, she already was enrolled in his class — along with the shrewd — so she began to pay more attention to more than just what he was attempting to teach them. apparently it was important to him to mold the future entertainers, and he seemed to be quite sincere in his discussions. when he offered some one-on-one sessions for those that felt like they needed it, almost every single hand shot up, with excuse after excuse falling from lips. it was honestly pathetic. not one to lower herself to that level, she simply drafted up an email, laying it on thick about how she was unsure about her ability to really capture the scenes of the play and how if he managed to find time in his busy schedule, she'd appreciate the time. she had no clue how he decided on who got chosen or not, but luck was on her side when she received a reply back with a time. of course she'd be chosen.

The slow death of their once fiery, all-consuming love left Alexei hollow, bewildered. There had never been a handbook given to him for how to keep passion alive or for how to let it die gracefully. But Alexei had always clung to one unspoken rule: he needed to be needed. Desperately. And perhaps that was his undoing. His hunger for Francisco’s affection was a bottomless well, insatiable. He wanted to be craved with the same fervor that had once kept them up until dawn, drunk on each other. He never imagined the love that had once felt so unbreakable could splinter under the weight of time and silence. Yet here they were, staring down the wreckage. Reality had dragged them both awake. "Yeah... I’ll be happy," Alexei lies, voice a brittle echo of the man he used to be. Because isn’t that what you do at the bitter end of love? You plaster on the lie, hold it together just long enough to make the parting easier. To convince the other person you’ll survive, even when your chest feels like it’s collapsing. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. The last thing he wants is pity---- or worse, for Francisco to stay out of some misplaced obligation. "You be happy, too," he adds, the words razor-sharp as they scrape their way out. "We’ll always be friends, right? Just 'cuz I’m movin' out doesn’t mean we can’t... you know, talk, hang out sometimes." It feels like bargaining with a ghost, grasping at some fragment of connection that might survive the funeral of their love. People say it’s possible, that friendship can endure after the passion fades. But Alexei doesn’t believe it. Not really. Still, he needs Francisco to play along, to pretend this isn’t the end of everything. Because the truth (the raw, bleeding truth) is too much to bear: that love can die, and when it does, it doesn’t go quietly. It leaves ruins. And Alexei is still standing there, lost among the debris, pretending the world hasn’t ended.

continued from here! @reddevilmcnt

francisco feels his chest aching so bad, it feels like it might split him open. the weight of everything feels so heavy on him, making it hard to even breathe, let alone speak. he’s always needed alexei, more than he’s ever let himself admit. it’s not just love... it’s deeper than that. it’s in his bones, in the way his very core craves the older man in ways that go beyond words and beyond reason. alexei has always been his anchor, his safe place. the idea of losing that feels like losing himself. his fingers tremble where they clutch the sheets, his knuckles turning white with the effort of holding himself together. but the distance between them... it makes it impossible to ignore how empty the room already feels, even with alexei still present, standing before him.

“you’ve always been my person,” frankie murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. he doesn’t look up right away... he doesn’t dare to. “you’re the one i turned to when the world got too loud, when i didn’t know how to keep myself together— and now you’re…” his words trail off, swallowed by the lump rising in his throat. “you’re leaving... and i don’t know how i’m supposed to do this without you.” he finally forces himself to meet alexei’s gaze, his eyes glistening with unshed tears that threaten to spill over at any moment. “i’ve needed you, alexei. every part of me has needed you. not just to love, but to feel like i’m… enough. like i matter and i know, i know that’s not fair. it’s not fair to ask you to stay when things haven’t been right for a while... but i don’t know how to turn it off. i don’t know how to stop needing you.”

his voice cracks a little and he has to pause, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth as if it might stop the flood of emotion from escaping. his chest rises and falls with shallow, uneven breaths, the effort of holding himself together becoming almost too much.

Mimi never hid the fact that she didn’t like her friend’s partner—subtlety had never been her style, and she wasn’t about to start now. Loud, proud, and unfiltered, she carried herself with the kind of confidence that didn’t require permission, and while she was never outright cruel, her snide remarks cut just enough to make her disapproval known. She never raised her voice or made a scene, but her narrowed eyes and unimpressed glances said more than enough. She’d sit across the room, legs crossed, watching with a skeptical tilt of her head, her tone dry and razor-sharp. “What do you even see in them?” she asked one day, casually sipping her drink, eyes fixed on her friend like she couldn’t make sense of it no matter how hard she tried. With a slow shake of her head and a sigh that bordered on dramatic, she added, “Did you settle for the first person who gave you attention?” The words hung in the air, blunt and unapologetic—just like Mimi.

maksim was running his mouth again, and tyson could feel the heat creeping up his spine, fast and sharp. every word out of the man’s mouth was designed to provoke — arrogant and taunting, that stupid condescending tone that made him want to swing, but he knew that was all the other alpha wanted. get him to lose control and give in to their baser instincts, start arguments with sly comments and glares just for the hell of it. like a toddler, ty's inner voice helpfully supplied, but even knowing that ... he wanted to give the other what he'd been looking for since the first time they'd met.

fists were already curling before he registered it, jaw tight, shoulders squared. he wasn’t proud of how fast maksim got under his skin, where other alphas around them had poked and prodded for years ( literally ) and met with indifference, maksim infuriated him. probably strategic, now that they were forced to be around each other due to their pack members imprinting and, unlike him, the other alpha had made it unbearable every step of the way.

another pointed jab and self control snapped, hand snapping out to grab maksim's shirt and yank him towards him, hard, but he didn't touch him. didn't growl in his face, show off his fangs, rather, he kissed him. spite and heat, bruising with the tension that had been simmering for months now in memory of half finished fights, forced back insults. didn't care the way his fangs nicked the soft flesh with the scent and taste and scent of blood spilling between them, but it was a reminder. ty pulled back, carmine hues locked onto maksim as he anticipated ; the punch, the grapple, whatever it was that came next. first, though, he finally had to have the last word.