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Description
Draculaura’s cherry-black curls bounced as she fastened a choker strung with tiny coffin charms, her crimson dress swirling like liquid rubies under the moonlight. She added fingerless lace gloves—vintage, of course—and polished her favorite platform boots, each stomp destined to leave heart-shaped prints. Across the room, Clawd adjusted his leather jacket, the silver claw buckles glinting as he tugged the hem of his sleeveless band tee. His jeans were ripped in all the right places, and his signature wolf pendant hung low, a relic from his first midnight hunt. They exchanged grins, her fangs peeking shyly, his tail flicking with nerves. “Ready to haunt the town?” he rumbled, offering his arm. She looped hers through his, a bat-wing clutch dangling from her wrist. “Only if we stop by the cemetery stargazing spot,” she teased, adjusting his askew collar. Their outfits screamed *perfectly mismatched*—gothic glam meets rugged charm—and their laughter? Pure magic.
