#drac ficlet

[redfish-blu]

Small funkobra ficlet (:

warnings for: mentions of addiction, gun violence, and blood.

Kobra and Ghoul’s relationship was always really weird. Even from the start it was just a strange bond. They never declared themselves friends, they never declared themselves anything. Kobra was a borderline reclusive personality and Ghoul was basically a feral child with little meaningful human socialization.

They were thirteen and just wanted to have fun. They handcuffed themselves to one another’s crooked smiles and ran with the thrill of two stars in a system. Absorbed in a spiraling orbit with no foreseeable conclusion. Except that falling in love would be like throwing a pipe into the wheels of a bike, but how can you not fall in love at thirteen?

The truth was, and Party and Jet had to learn to bite their tongues, Kobra and Ghoul were never happier than when they were together. They were birds of a feather with twin flame wicks. Through sickness and health, they held one another like water in their hands.

It was a universal truth that they loved each other. They had to love each other, or the world didn’t spin quite right. Between them though, Kobra fell harder. He’d never loved someone before. He wouldn’t know that he did until it started to hurt. Until Ghoul spent a disco bit to chew on his cheeks for the last time and Kobra cried himself to sleep knowing he had to tell Ghoul not to come back in the morning. And the worst part was that Ghoul went and said nothing to defend himself.

You know it’s for the better.

Poison repeated a million times whenever they knew Kobra still wasn’t over it. He was fine at pretending he wasn’t thinking about Ghoul for a hundred-fifty weeks. Or scanning the stands at a race he was about to win to see if Ghoul was there. Not knowing if he’d be happy about it, or if he would be so fucking mad he would pull out his gun and shoot him in the face for not choosing him.

And it wasn’t that Kobra didn’t make any friends after that. He had some. He managed to smile at them sometimes when they reminded him of what smiling meant when it was with Ghoul. He felt bad when he had to pretend he was with him to have fun. Or kiss everyone at the function to reassure himself that he didn’t care anymore. That he wasn’t still so in love that he wanted to die for how unbelievably stupid he was. Wondering why he couldn’t grow out of it, if it was impossible.

The most depressing thing was all the ways Kobra thought he’d say I don’t want you back when he saw Ghoul again. You should’ve said no. You should have chosen me. He didn’t end up saying any of it.

It only took him a fraction of a second to recognize Ghoul. Three years gone and Kobra would have known even if it had been ten in the way his heartbeat clicked back into place. And his fist hit Ghoul’s nose like a heat seeking missile. There was blood on the sand and running down Ghoul’s chin when he swore up and down he was clean. Stop hitting me.

Kobra expected to be mad. But he only hit him because he was surprised, really. Ten minutes, twenty minutes to collect the Dracs and ferry them to the mailbox. He wanted to tell Ghoul off and leave him on the side of the road where he came from. Ghoul’s hands were on his shoulders on the bike ride. His hair was down to his elbows. Three years gone, and it lifted away from his neck in the wind.

Ghoul asked if sunsets were still his favorite. They were. Kobra didn’t say it.

[digimonloving]

What a weekend!

Hey guys, just an update. What a weekend did we have! I tried my best getting to as many requests as I did. Unfortunately, seems like I am sick now. I don't think I pushed myself too much since the workload I did was similar to when I did assignments for grad school. I did want to work more, but the doctor told me to get some rest and to take it easy. I do want to let each and every one of you who supports Digimonloving that I truly do appreciate you and a thanks to Gabu and Drac too. I'm still going to try brainstorming and taking feedback for when I start to do ficlets.

[jikanet-tanaka]

Ideas for stories and such...

I'm a bit overwhelmed with plot bunnies right now, and I think writing them all out is the best way to get 'em all straight. So... here are a few ideas for future fics I'd want to write. I dunno which one(s) I should focus on first...

Assassin’s Creed Valhalla

A Saga Most Ordinary : I have ideas for two more chapters, one about Eivor playing Dungeons and Dragons with the three Good Boys, along with Hytham, Randvi and Tewdwr, and another about her and Valka Staging An Intervention because she thinks Sigurd went and joined some cult because of his new girlfriend (ie Fulke).

Untitled/maybe it’ll just be chapter two of an existing fic, I dunno: A new companion piece/sequel of sorts to ‘Nornir's Curse, Nótt's Counsel’ about Randvi and Valdis just hanging out (on the beach while their respective spouses watch over the young ‘uns) and talking about their (rather similar, really) lives.

Dishonored

Take Your Silver Spoon (Dig Your Grave) : A two-shot about two bastard-born princesses of the Kaldwin line. Part of it is already written, I just need to get off my ass and do something about it lol

You and Me and The Leviathan Makes Three : An AU where Daud survives the events of DoTO, and Billie is stuck trying to find new purpose in her life while teaching a god-turned-boy how to Human and a suicidal old man how to… not be a total wreck of a person . Oh, and the Abbey of the Everyman is falling apart all around them (which makes the Boysider happy, since his two newfound biggest goals in life are 1) to destroy organized religion and 2) to save the whales. Every chapter would be set in a different isle, with titles based on sea shanties.

Dracula

Untitled : A little one-shot about how Drac might have gotten to Mina on the night of October 3rd. Because the details are kinda hazy on that, right?

Final Fantasy XVI

The Tale of the Telamonides : Before the mission to Drake’s Head, Mid shows up to the Hideout to Bring Chaos and Shenanigans to everyone’s live. Because I was sad that we never did see her interact with Cid.

Gravity Falls

Dungeons and Dummies : …I need to finish this you guys, I already have it all planned out. I feel weirdly anxious about this story, mostly because I don’t happen to have the whole of the rules of D&D stamped in my brain (shocking, I know). It’s like I’m afraid I’ll have someone go, ‘hey, that’s not how it goes in the Player Handbook, page so-and-so blah blah blah ’ so I don’t even try, you know?? It’s a weird thing.

The Awesome Mixtape of the Apocalypse: A story where Dipper and Mabel’s parents join both sets of twins on a roadtrip to Gravity Falls. The concept would be that Mabel made a mixtape with songs for everyone in her family (so for example Ford definitely gets weird prog rock like this, listen my dad was a happier, most well-adjusted Ford, and that was his shit, car trips in my family were trippy), with each character represented by a particular musical style (the Pines mom’s got punk ska like Reel Big Fish and Streetlight Manifesto lol…) and each chapter corresponding to one song. I got every big story beat and character moment planned out, I just… need to get off my ass and write, I guess.

Horizon Zero Dawn/Forbidden West

Untitled : Aka Aloy watches Varl and Zo together, gets confused/frustrated, and shares a convo with Erend that helps her figure out she’s asexual. Sweet!

Untitled Rost and Ersa fic : Rost and Ersa, as ghosts, hang around Aloy and Erend for the events of the first game (and have a mini ship war about the merits of Ereloy as a couple). Also known as ‘Rost Gets Another Grumpy Daughter Because These Are Sure Fun To Collect Or Something’.

Mass Effect

Untitled : Just a little Shakarian ficlet about Shepard listening to Thane’s story about how he met his wife after the events in Garrus’ loyalty mission and her being like, oh, oh boy, oh no.

Radiant Historia

Will You Learn to Love (Without Consuming): A little one-shot set in the Apocrypha ‘verse which is not compliant with the canon shown in Perfect Chronology. Basically my take on who became the big Mana Monster causing the desertification (and why he’s a foil to both Heiss and the Conuts Guy).

Déjà Vécu : A one-short about Ernst and Heinrich (and, by association, Stocke and Heiss) because I guess that’s what I always write about in this damn fandom.

This Sweet Corrupting Reality : Basically the only parallel history I would have liked to see in Perfect Chronology, that is, Stocke wakes up and realizes he is now King Ernst of Granorg.

[snakeningel]

Heard you wanted Dracula prompts? how about: Seward suitor squad sandwich. That's it, that's what I've got. Feel free to run with it if you're so inspired.

bet.

Arthur Holmwood's Diary, Written in by Quincey P. Morris, October 14th

The sun isn't up yet, so I'll take this time to write. Journalling ain't usually my thing, but some good's gotta come outta this whole vampire mess, and I'm certainly not gonna lose this memory to time or whatever meets us in Varna. Art — if you're reading this, I hope you don't mind I nicked that journal of yours. I don't have one of my own, and I know you well enough that I'm sure you'd want a record of last night too.

The three of us have been through a lot. Probably more adventures than those folks who call themselves blood brothers. We know everything about each other. Art, I know you like to gussy up your animals when you're too worried to think straight, and I've heard that I cling to people when I'm dead asleep. So I don't know why Jack thought we didn't notice him shivering up a storm in that bunk of his. He's always the first one to feel the chill, but Lord forbid the man actually open his mouth to say something about it. Art told me it was something about medical school and blood pressure that got Jack to seal his lips? Some theory about womenfolk being more susceptible to the chill, I think. Now the man would rather let his skin go blue than admit that he needs some warm bodies by his side. But it's not like anyone in this group of ours is inclined to judge anything, and at the very least, Art and I already knew about what the doctor didn't want people to suspect. Mina was even snuggled up, happy as a clam with that husband of hers. The two of them made for such a pretty picture, and I can't think why Jack was so against being like them, all warm and comfortable-like. It's not like he would ever get mad at me though, so I went and cozied up with our darling doctor. That wasn't entirely altruistic on my part. A warm body can help stave off the cold, but the presence of a true, dear friend is more than needed to fight off that darkness that we see ahead. I told Jack as much. The man won't take handouts, but he'd do anything to help his own. He's got a heart as pure as gold beneath all that gloom; besides the professor of his, I can think of no better shepherd of the sick. He held himself stiffly for the first few moments, but soon enough he was melted to my chest like a frozen cold kitten scooped up off of the ground. Art, of course, was not one to be left out, and he was bright enough to see our doctor begin to flush and think of propriety. With the smarts of the hunter he is, he strolled over and laid himself down across our laps, all cat that got the canary like. Jack certainly wasn't going to stand up and cause our lordling to topple to the floor, so the poor lad was trapped between our affections. The darling thinks himself subtle, but both Art and I are sharp enough to notice the relieved smile that curled at the edges of his pretty lips. Even without the threat of someone standing up, Art's position was far too precarious for my liking. So I tugged the two of them back with me, arranging us all on the bed more comfortably than how we had been perching on the edge. It's sweet how Jack flushes whenever I haul him around, but I wasn't inclined to embarrass him further, so I didn't say much to that effect. The three of us have bunked in worse places than a traincar that's just a tad too cold, so we settled quickly enough into a position that's comfortable for all of us. Just as I like to cling with my dear ones in my arms, Jack likes to feel the weight of something solid on both sides of him; spending too long in the realm of the mind probably leaves him needing a reminder of what is solid and real. Art, of course, managed to take up more space than we thought possible, stretching across the two of us like he was making his claim. There was a moment of silent peace, all of us understanding each other without a word shared. But our doctor couldn't stop his buzzing brain, and soon enough he opened his mouth to speak.

"What if-"

It doesn't take the brightest mind to figure out that he was going to let himself discuss only the worst possibilities, so with all the grace that I could never muster, Art rumbled out the sweetest, laziest whine into Jack's chest. That was enough to stop that train of thought in its tracks. The claim that Art holds over our Jack's heartstrings is nothing short of impressive, but they've had decades to grow fond of each other, I suppose. Still, such an efficient shutdown of Jack's overthinking ways did tickle me, so I suppose a chuckle escaped my mouth. Again, our doctor goes red, though I suppose the rumble of my chest against his face sparked some other, better thoughts in his head. I wish he knew that he need only ask, and both Art and I would be happy to do whatever he wished to him. But this isn't time to push; perhaps after we come back from this latest adventure of ours, we'll sit our boy down to run another gauntlet of proposals.

But I'm not keen thinking too far into an uncertain future. There's no point until the evil we're hunting is cold and scattered on the wind. At some point, the warmth and comfort lulled us to sleep; I couldn't tell who went first into that land of rest, but as with all things, those of us left behind wasted no time to follow. That's where Art and Jack still are now, finally getting the rest and comfort we've all been neglecting of late. The train is still rolling along to our destination, and no matter what we face in Varna, I am happy to know that this moment will not slip into the oft-forgotten past. The two of them don't look like they will be stirring anytime soon, so I suppose I will return and join them for as long as they will have me.

[draculas-husband]

The guilt was unbearable - Drac could not fathom why he was allowed to stay. He wanted Edmont to be angry, to throw him out for failing to protect his son. There was no logic in doing so. Edmont knew as much. And deep down Drac did too. Haurchefant had made a choice that day and Edmont would be lying if he claimed he would not have done the same. But despite this, Drac's feelings had gotten the better of him. He had no idea what to say anymore, lost in devastated fury and fear. So, in a state of panic, he fled into the cold snowy night.

Fearing for his lover's health Edmont rushed after. Losing his cane somewhere in the process. But he refused to let it stop him. He needed to make sure Drac wouldn't end up hurting himself.

After running down the stairs, trying to catch up to his beloved warrior of light, Edmont's legs gave in and he collapsed onto his knees.

Seeing Edmont's pleading and pained expression was enough to bring Drac back to his senses. He realized how selfish he was being. For making such a scene and not considering how Edmont felt about it all.

Drac gasped, took off his helmet and tossed it aside.

❤️~Stay with me~❤️

I was listening to this on repeat as I made this and it only made me that more emotional. ❤️

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Here’s a question, Birdie. Can any of your vamp boys turn into bats? Or does Drac and Johnny only do a wolf and Les and Louis can’t shift their shape at all?

Jonathan kept looking back at him, holding his gaze. Then his posture changed, his shoulders dropping. Oh, he had to be kidding him. "You can turn into an animal?" he asked in disbelief.

The Count waved his hand in dismissal, making Jonathan’s eyes dart back to the moves of his opponent. "Oh, I can change into quite a number of things. And I believe that there is the possibility that you could learn it as well, with enough patience and training. You'd be the first of my Brides to master that skill, but if anyone would be able to do it, it would be you."

"Really?" Jonathan made a sharp step forward, forcing Dracula now into the other direction, his fists balled and raised in front of his chest. "Well, what kinds of things then?"

"Mist, darkness and shadows. Regarding animals, only a few distinct specimens, and nothing too outrageous, or sexy to that matter. A swarm of flies or bats. Rats. A wolf." Dracula shrugged, now taking a step forward himself, driving Jonathan back.

"But a wolf is-" Jonathan stopped himself, biting his own tongue.

The Count raised an eyebrow. "A wolf is what?"

"...impressive," he slowly said, moving to the side.

As quoted from my terrible monster-lovechild Death's Sunrise

That said, I am fairly certain that Dracula only ever turned into shadows and said wolf!form in my fics - I never got around to write about his other talents (note to self: perhaps I should?)

Vamp!Jonathan also only ever turned into a wolf outside the long fic, in 2 oneshots/ficlets. (Push Through and Nearly Out)

I am not so sure about Louis and Lestat, but I am in favor of them not being able to shift into animals - especially since Les has the cloud gift anyway.

Would love to hear other ideas and headcanons for either of those vampires!

Also, lovely ask @grimgrinningghosts456, thank you so much! 🖤🦇

[chaos-monkeyy]

Thrakif ficlet! Late-night Calls

Joint effort with @draculard​ for another Thrawn Kinkmeme fill 😁 but honestly drac did all the hard work

The chirp of his communicator woke him, and because it had to be somewhere around midnight, Ba’kif knew immediately who was calling him. There was only one person who had the audacity not just to call him directly, bypassing his aide, but to also call him whenever he pleased, and that was Thrawn.

With a quiet groan, he rubbed the grit out of his eyes and held the comlink up to look at the display. Unsurprisingly, the incoming call was labeled “Thrawn.” More interesting, though, was that Thrawn was apparently requesting a video call, something Ba’kif had never known him to do.

He settled back against his pillow, determined to stay comfortable, and clicked ‘accept.’

What he saw and heard killed the greeting on his lips.

The camera on Thrawn’s end was moving so quickly that all Ba’kif could see was a shaky dark blur; the camera seemed to be shifting rapidly from one end of the room to the other, and at one end, Ba’kif could catch a fleeting glimpse of artificial light, like the glow from a questis screen. It was difficult to explain the rapid shaking, but Ba’kif knew that Thrawn’s communicator was attached to his wrist.

And he could hear heavy breathing. And the sound of skin on skin. And—

[bandomficslibrary]

Title: Save Yourself

Author: TrashCan_Inc

Platform: Archive of our Own

Fandom: Danger Days

Warnings: Mention of depression, allusion of character having a deathwish

Word Count: 4,406

Chapters: 2

Date Published: 09 Sept 2017

Summary: Jet Star and Kobra Kid have a clap with some dracs. They don't get Ghosted, but they do get mad at each other for saving each others asses and getting into harm's way.

My Comments: Cute, short, fluffy with the perfect dash of angst. We also stan a healthy, communicative relationship. It is incomplete, but the two chapters are enough to be a ficlet by themselves.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989584/chapters/27123741

[orange8886]

btw I haven’t written the daily challenges (or anything really) for the 30 days OTP challenge because I’m currently on mobile and writing fics on mobile is just… not something I like to do but here’s the link to the already written prompts. At the end of the challenge, I’ll write a sequel to the ficlet with the most notes http://drac-ooh.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-drarry

[snakeningel]

prompt: "could you imagine?" w/ helward

never let it b said that im not a man of the people. ficlet under readmore.

"Could you imagine? I'm certainly neither hero nor god." Jack Seward is not normally a man oft taken by flights of fancy, after all, he sees himself as too much of a rationalist to be carried away on the buoyant forces of fantasy and hope. Yet the presence of his dearest professor always seems to untether him from those steady rocks of reality, sending the two of them adrift on the wild waves of outlandish theories that he cannot help but be swept along by. Still, this hypothesis may be a bridge too far, even for a pet student otherwise unshakable in his loyalty. So with something of a scoff, Jack cannot help but question the object put before him.

If medical school had taught Jack anything at all, it was that Doctor van Helsing is nothing short of a hurricane of personality, and attempting to resist the man's charms is an exercise in futility. If Jack were to think of it, he could not have explained how a halfhearted slip of the tongue led to him here, half-bent over his professor's desk and peering down at a book too weathered to even be called ancient. All he had admitted to was the vaguest curiosity regarding his own quirks and mannerisms; even as astute a student as he is, Jack could not understand the relationship between that and this book of scrawled tales. Even the greatest of charms and smartest of men cannot convince a doctor of stories written millennia ago.

A heavy hand comes down on his back, and it takes every muscle in his scrawny body to not crumple onto this doubtlessly priceless manuscript. (Really, Jack should be proud that his elbows only buckled a little under the unexpected gesture; as great a man as Van Helsing is, regulation of strength does not count among his many skills).

"Of course, Friend Jack," Yet as always, Van Helsing's voice is full of nothing if not confidence, the rumble of his sharp consonants traveling down to purr against Jack's bones. "There are many things men write not because they are true, but they are mirror of a mirror of what they see in the world. We are doctors, so maybe we see only what is in front of our hands and what we know what we can call real in touch and hold and smell, but if you see a reflection of a tree from pond to mirror to your eyes, you will not say that the tree does not exist, no? Maybe witch and monster and hero do not exist, maybe they do. But you are no more strange than flower that do not grow in the soil of your homeland or mine, if only we see it in the ink-stroke of the other do we know it exist, and you are not the only one to ever be, ja?"

Perhaps a normal man would stumble over the words that fall from Van Helsing's mouth, but Jack has been a scholar of his master long enough to understand it just as he does Latin or Greek. The warmth of his mentor's hand burns like a coal against his back, the heat radiating through the layers of fine fabric, yet Jack could not find it within himself to pull away. His professor is a hurricane that is not easily denied or swayed, but those wild winds always lead him to a steadier shore than ever before. How many men who claimed marriage to the sea ever match that tender devotion and wholehearted trust?

"I —" The words neatly printed on yellowed paper seems heavier with meaning and ink under Jack's gaze now. Brotherhood, devotion, a soul split in two. Something within him settles like a beast soothed, its desperate howls finally answered by echoes of those who had once held the same animal bound beneath human skin. But in that moment, Jack knows that even those words pale in comparison to the devotion he holds for his mentor; how could one love a man in the same way one would worship a force of nature?

"Thank you, professor." And how rare is it to be cherished by someone far larger than life? Too many gods in the world require sacrifices of bone and flesh, yet when Van Helsing's eyes crinkle with joy, Jack knows that his god needs only gratitude from a lone disciple.

[draculas-husband]

They had traveled to Camp Dragonhead together to check in with Emmanellain, who had taken it upon himself to honor his late brother by taking over his role and doing his utmost to prove himself a capable lord and knight.

Edmont guided his xaela lover through the camp grounds, showing him all the areas he had once patrolled himself in his youth. Once they came upon one of the empty rooms, placed on top of the camp walls, Edmont stopped dead in his tracks. He motioned over to the window with his free hand, encouraging Drac to enjoy the view.

Drac did just that and walked over to the corner of the room, his lips curled up in a wide smile as he looked out the window, his form lit up softly by the morning sun outside.

Edmont could feel his cheeks and the tip of his ears heat up slightly as he caught himself staring at the man in front of him. He tried to wrap his head around what he had done to deserve such a beautiful and handsome man for a lover. His eyes traveled to the xaela's lips and he swallowed hard behind him.

Drac turned to face the elezen lord, his eyes full with affection as he took a few steps closer to the former count.

"It is a lovely view. But I must confess that I prefer the one in front of me." The xaela's tone was soft and warm and he beamed at Edmont, having just caught him staring.

In the heat of the moment, Edmont practically lunged forward, pushing the taller man up against the wall behind them. There was a slight look of mischief in his eyes as his lover's own eyes widened in surprise and gasped at the elezen lord's sudden boldness. Drac's face was flushed a deep red, his chest heaving as Edmont leaned up against him, their faces only a breath apart.

"My son has already waited this long. I am sure Emmanellain can wait a little while longer… my love." Came a whisper from the former count, his breath brushing against Drac's lips, before leaning in for a kiss.

[draculas-husband]

Thanks to having taken Edmont's measurements right before their wedding, Drac had been able to design and commission Tataru to make his husband an outfit as an anniversary gift. He had worked closely with a few good friends to have the cane and pin crafted as well.

The xaela had even managed to convince his beloved to pose for him in his new outfit  as he painted, for Edmont was his muse.

It was now the first Starlight they were celebrating as husbands and Edmont finally got to see the painting finished. The elezen lord began to tear up as he saw the love that had been put into it, taking Drac's hand in his own and squeezing it lovingly as he admired his husband's work.

"I've never looked better." The former count smiled affectionately at his beloved, lifting his husband's hand and giving it a gentle kiss. "Thank you." He whispered, his eyes shiny with tears.

"You look far better in the flesh, my love. But I am so happy you like it." There was a slight flush to Drac's cheeks as he responded and he leaned against his husband as they looked at the painting together, fond smiles on both men's lips. 

I started working on this back in august of this year. It is based on a painting of Robert de Montesquiou by one of my favourite artists; Giovanni Boldini.

Which practically makes this a tribute to my two favorite french Counts haha! ❤️

[draculas-husband]

Drac could still scaresly believe what had transpired that night. He and the good count had accidentally ended up making each other aware of the other's attraction. What happened afterwards was no accident however. Lust had overtaken them both as they decided to get intimate. The night ending with both men falling asleep in each others arms.

It was morning now and Drac could not remember the last time he had slept so well. Being the first to be awake of the two, he thought it only fair to watch his beloved count sleep for a bit. Just as Edmont had watched his unconscious form the evening prior.

Drac knew they would eventually have to talk about it. About them. But right now there was nothing he would rather do than stay right there. Next to the man he had come to care for so deeply.

"Good morning beautiful. Do you intend to get up already?"

"Good morning gorgeous. Not unless you are..."

"Hmm... I do believe we have earned ourselves a few more minutes of rest."

"Naturally..."

❤️~Sleeping in~❤️

[draculas-husband]

From the kiss meme, 4! Writing or gpose - your choice!

Lord Edmont stirred as he awoke with a groan, the weight of the other man on top of him restricting his movements quite a bit. His eyes fluttered open and the first thing his gaze met was the xaela he had brought into his home and heart, sleeping curled up at his side with his head leaned against his chest, a contented smile on his face. The count's face softened and with tired eyes he smiled warmly at his newfound love, letting a hand gently stroke the au ri man's hair.

The elezen lord tried to sit up slightly, making sure to have Drac pulled up close into his embrace, causing a small whimper to escape the lizard's lips.

"Oh, I am so sorry, my love." He whispered with an apologetic tone of voice, looking slightly concerned about having bothered his resting hero so. He leaned his head down slightly, careful not to move his lover too much, pressing a pair of soft lips against the other man's temple.

Pleased noises could be heard from the xaela as he was kissed, his tail curled slightly around the edge of the bed.

Edmont continued to kiss his lover repeatedly on the temple and on the top of Drac's head before letting his eyes grow heavy again and eventually falling asleep once more.

[draculas-husband]

Kiss on the shoulder/shoulder blade 

Drac took three steps into the spacious office, turned, and flopped back onto lord Edmont's sturdy desk with a thump. He stared at the ceiling, sighing quietly as he waited. Soon, he heard the familiar uneven footsteps and soft tap of a cane outside the room, and sat up with a smile. There was a light knock on the door before the handle was turned and it creaked open.

"My dear, are you in there?" came a voice, quite familiar to Drac.

The count peeked his head in and Drac was soon met with a warm, affectionate smile as the elezen lord had spotted him.

"Hey you!" Drac exclaimed, with an excited tone of voice.

"Hey you, yourself." Came Edmont's reply as he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "It is good to see you so hale and hearty, my love. I pray, I did not keep you waiting long." The elezen's tone was soft and full of mirth.

Drac shook his head in response as his lover approached him by the desk, gazing into his eyes.

"I did not have to wait long at all." The xaela beamed at the elezen lord with opened arms and spread legs, inviting the count into his embrace. Edmont wasted little time, letting his cane lean against the desk as he allowed himself to be embraced by his beloved, hugging him tightly in return. Drac could feel his lover's lips being pressed against his shoulder, causing him to smile, a pleased, quiet gasp escaping him. The count's lips lingered there for a good while before traveling to Drac's neck, which sent a slight shiver down the xaela's back and made his tail curl slightly in excitement.

Edmont's head was now gently resting on the very shoulder he had just kissed, the tip of his nose brushed up against the nape of his beloved's neck.

"I have missed you very much." He whispered, right below Drac's horn before shutting his eyes and letting out a contented sigh.

[0nelittlebirdtoldme]

Have been studying all day but also feel like writing and apart from the bazillion of projects I have currently going on, I am once again asking you to

📢 Send me writing promts! (one word, several or a full sentence!) for:

Drac and Johnny

Louis and Lestat

anything A Dowry of Blood related

Duke Sayan and Ilic

... other fandoms?

Might do a couple drabbles. Or a ficlet. We'll see! Any response appreciated🖤