Chapter 37

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(TW ⚠️ domestic abuse, violence, and mention of systematic racism/prejudice. The dated and ignorant views within this chapter are not a reflection of personal belief.
I do *NOT* condone, encourage, or agree with such malignant views. Part of this chapter takes place during a time where such views and laws weren't uncommon, and I can't in good conscience just gloss over that and pretend that it wasn't happening.
Also, if you or someone you know is in an unhealthy relationship, whether it's with a spouse, a friend, or a relative; the way they mistreat is not in anyway your fault. The abuser is always at fault, even if they try to make you think it's yours/the victims. It's hard, but never be afraid to ask for help from someone you can trust. You are more than your trauma, you are better than the harsh words that were spat at you, and you deserve better. Remember you are seen, valid, heard, and loved. 💕)
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"It's all true. The boogeyman is real...
And you found him."
-Otis B. Driftwood [House of 1000 Corpses]

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"Al~?" You murmured tiredly, barely opening your eyes as you gently nudged the stags arm with your shoulder.

"Nnnnnngh..."

"Al." You huffed, now a little more awake -and mildly annoyed. "You're snoring, and your elbow is digging into my back. Roll over."

"You roll over." He muttered, turning onto his side and wrapped his arm around your waist; pulling your body close to him as he nuzzled the side of his face into your neck. Wincing a tiny bit as he accidentally brushed up against the healing bite mark on your skin, still quite tender to the touch despite being a few days old now. Disregarding any of that discomfort, you scooted closer so that your body lay flush against his; and begun to hear soft static filled purrs emitting from the man behind you. Feeling his sleepy smile instinctually widen against your skin, it made your stomach flutter a little.

His purrs were woven with the soft pattering of rain hitting your window and the roof above. The weather had warmed up a little, but you had no doubts that temperatures would drop again soon and freeze everything once again. Spring was rearing it's head, but winter didn't want to go out without making sure it had the last word.

"I'm glad you woke me." He said quietly, giving you a gentle squeeze as he snuggled you. He felt a sense of relief as he held you. Taking in your warmth, the softness of your skin, the lingering scent of whatever fragrance you wore. It was a comfort to him, that brought him from a place in his subconscious to a place of peace. You furrowed a brow and reached down, draping your arm over his as you held his hand. Tracing little circles on his skin with your thumb that made his black heart do flips in his chest.

"Why's that?" You wondered.

"Screaming-meemies."

Screaming- meemies. His word for bad dreams. Night terrors and nightmares, the creeps. The feeling of something... foreboding. Screaming-meemies are things that keep you up at night, and leave you with a cold chill despite the still air around you.

Things that haunt even the most menacing of demons.

Since you and Alastor had made up, he had been begun to be more vulnerable with you. You both have, but Alastor especially. Slowly beginning to tell you things he had suppressed for damn near a century. You knew he could be a sweetheart, but you didn't know he harbored such a soft side to him. But you accepted it fully, and gently encouraged as well as reassured him that he could confide in you for whatever the need may be.

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