Hell's Greatest Events

That’s how you ended up in this mess in the first place. At least, that’s what you blamed it on. It was following red flag men through their terrible choices that landed your ass in hell. 

Charlie said you needed to take accountability for your actions or you’d never be able to progress in the redemption program, but you just didn’t buy it. The least you could do, however, was not repeat the mistake again. 

That’s what had you sitting behind your laptop in the hotel library researching ways to not fall harder for the handsome red flag that was Alastor. Unfortiently, research wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world and you quickly ended up with your head cradled in your arms, resting partially on your notes. 

That’s how Alastor found you, cocking his head to the side as your shoulders moved slightly with every calm breath you took. How you had survived for years in hell, soul all your own still, Alastor couldn’t guess. You were so careless as to drift off to sleep in a public space. 

He was less than pleased with the presence of your travel computer on the desk. They were distasteful machines, making the users lazy when it came to seeking and verifying information. 

Alastor stepped closer to you, snagging a throw blanket off the back of the couch. Of all the places you chose to sleep, you picked the least comfortable ones. He wouldn’t save you from the kink in your back that would punish you for your choices, but the least Alastor could do was drape a blanket over your shoulders. He had a duty to the care and keeping of the hotel residents, to an extent. 

The writing on the paper caught his eye. Your looping letters elegantly crossed the page. The title scrawled atop the sheet demanded he investigate more, reading “Crushing This Crush”. 

“Oh, dear.” Alastor murmured softly, carefully working the notebook out from under your arms. “And who is the target of this…” 

“Goal:” the page stated boldly. “Kill the crush on Alastor by any means necessary.” 

“Me?” He chuckled, eyeing your sleeping face, seeing you in a new light. Things made more sense under the light of this new information. “Very interesting.” 

Alastor’s fingers twitched as the single notebook duplicated in his hand. The newly created duplicate melted into the shadows, leaving the original behind. Carefully, he lifted your arms and tucked the notebook containing your poorly hidden plans back under you. 

Would you guess it was he who brought you a blanket? He didn’t know, nor did he care. What mattered to him was that this was surely going to be entertaining. 

Step one in crushing your crush on Alastor sound have been simple enough. Minimize exposure to the man himself. How hard was it to just not spend time around him? You just had to stop seeking him out and it would be done. 

It’s not like he typically hung out in the general spaces of the hotel. 

It should have been easy, so why was it while you sat on the couch in the hotel lobby, nose in a book, his weight settled next to you? He didn’t even sit in the armchair like he usually would. For the first time in your existence, he asked you what you were reading, striking up a conversation with you.

This was not good. This was very much bad for your crush. This was how your crush would get worse. Not good at all. 

You stood up in a rush, stammering out some bullshit excuse about having to walk your fish before all but running out of the lobby, the rich sound of Alastor’s laugh following you down the hall. 

That was far from your only failure at distancing yourself from Alastor. He called on you to attend to errands with him he sure as hell didn’t need help with. The man had tentacles and shadow powers and yet somehow he needed your help to carry supplies for the hotel? 

And why the hell did he need your help to buy new clothes? Did he even wear anything other than the same outfit every single day, anyway? You couldn’t remember when you ever saw him wearing something different, but somehow you still ended up sitting in a tailor shop as he asked your opinions on cuts and fabrics. 

Step one was a failure, but that was alright, there were other steps you could take. 

Step two was to focus on growing your own interests and hobbies independent of your crush. After much thought, you settled on photography for the new hobby of choice. Charlie was ever so excited when you told her your plans and before you knew it, she helped you gain your own state-of-the-art digital camera, sure to double as an Alastor repellant. 

Or so you thought. 

Alastor seemed to be drawn to your new hobby, the digital camera be damned. He would stand outside the view, next to you, and comment on the quality of image, eagerly offering you a film camera to try instead. 

What you intended to be a hobby to distract yourself from and separate yourself from Alastor only ended up fostering your crush more. It became something you looked forward to doing because of the time you’d spend with him.

Step two was a failure. 

Step three to crushing your crush was one you had hoped to avoid doing but with the failure of the first two steps, you had little choice but execute step: Seek support from others. 

That had you sitting on Charlie’s bed, looking at her and Vaggie as you twisted the hem of your shirt between your fingers. They always said the hardest part of doing anything was to start and Satan damn it, that was true for this. 

“Is everything alright?” Charlie asked, breaking the silence. 

“No.” The word comes out as a long, drawn out whine as your tense shoulders deflate with the air leaving your lungs. “I just… I didn’t know who else to go to.”

“About what?” Vaggie asked, voice melting with Charlie’s assurances that you could come to them about anything at all and how happy she was that you would open up to them. 

“I have a crush.” The words tumbled from your mouth in a rush, quickly drown out by Charlie’s squeal of joy. 

“Why is that a problem?” Vaggie was the ever reliable voice of sanity to her girlfriend’s supportive joy. 

“I need to not have a crush.” 

“But why?” Charlie seemed to melt at the death of her fantasy. 

“He’s not a good guy.” 

“Who is it?” Vaggie was tense, prepared for you to deliver the worst option possible.

“It’s Alastor,” you confided, unaware of the smiling shadow hiding behind the curtain, tall ear cocked toward the gossiping girls. 

Step three was to have someone you trusted talk some sense into you. That’s what you expected Charlie and Vaggie to do. Instead, Charlie was eager to explore the idea of if love- a word you were far from ready to label your silly little crush- would be enough to convince both you and Alastor to try redemption. 

Step three was a failure. 

Step four to crushing your crush was the nuclear option. You wanted to avoid it at all costs and yet everything else you tried, failed. That left you standing in front of Alastor as he sat reading in the library. 

You’d been sitting next to him, struggling to read the pages of your book and not focus on the rich earthy way he smelled, the way the scent of moss seemed to surround him, as if he shoved handfuls of the stuff in his pockets each morning. 

Each day that passed made it harder to think with Alastor near you. That was what drove you to preparing for step four. 

“Is there something I can assist you with, my dear?” Alastor asked, not looking up from the old detective novel he had surely read hundreds of times in his hand. 

“I… can we talk?” 

“Are we not doing so right now?” Alastor’s ear flicked when he turned the page. 

“Alastor, it’s important.” 

He snapped the book closed and set it aside, giving you his whole attention. “Well, if you say it’s important, who am I to delay?” 

That was it. You were out of time and he was waiting. That was when the words failed you. They ran away from your mind like the rest of you wanted to. Silence ticked on as he waited, looking directly into your eyes as you prepared to be shot down. 

Step four was to tell him and clear the air, allowing you to be rejected and move on. It would hurt and maybe he’d kill you for it, but there was something to be said for ripping off the bandage. All you had to do was spit the words out and prepare for unending pain. 

“It’s about…” You were so close to saying it before the words got stuck again. 

“About?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch while he gave you time to confess before he spoke again. “Dare I say, is this about your little crush?” 

It felt like lightning struck you, running right down your spine and pulling every muscle tight. How could he know? How long did he know? 

“What?” Your voice was small, weak, like your knees felt. 

“This is step four, is it not?” Alastor’s smile spread wider, teeth looking somehow sharper as he shifted in his seat, seeming to prepare for a show. 

“How do you?” 

“My darling girl,” Alastor laughed, “if you’re trying to keep a secret, I don’t recommend sleeping with the plan in front of you in this very library!” 

Tears welled in your eyes as shame and embarrassment flooded you. He was toying with you for the last few weeks, ruining your plans and making you fall harder just for his own sick entertainment because he knew the whole time. 

“You could have told me,” you whimpered, trying and failing to swallow back the tears. “You could have just told me instead of making a fool out of me.” 

Alastor’s smile faltered for just a moment, shrinking as he stood. He intended to play with you, ruin your plot, but it wasn’t his goal to hurt you. This was not how he wanted to see you crying in shame. This wasn’t how he wanted to see you crying at all. 

“Cher,” Alastor spoke softer, wiping the first tear to spill from your eyes with the knuckle of his clawed hand. “I did not desire to make a fool out of you.” 

“Then why?” You stepped back only to have him step closer to you. 

His ears sank as his head cocked to the side. Why was the question indeed? 

“I didn’t wish for you to crush this crush,” he answered honestly, though that only left you with more questions. 

“Why not?” 

“It’s entertaining,” he said, after thinking for a moment longer. “The way you blush and get flustered.” 

“What does that mean?” 

Alastor shrugged his shoulders before melting into the shadows, leaving you with more questions and worse, hope that they could become something real if you just gave Alastor time to come to figure out his feelings. 

You failed to crush your crush, but maybe that was alright? Maybe your crush was contagious. Maybe Charlie was right, after all.

No, not that Alastor would push you attempt to be a better person, but maybe you could both be terrible people together. 

Thank you for reading and once again, thank you to everyone within the fandom who stepped up and participated in the event!