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#Post#: 1218--------------------------------------------------
Dreams come True - Apollon/Miran
By: Minyaagar Date: February 10, 2026, 5:57 pm
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Miran was gearing up for the talent show, determined to earn a
coveted spot in a band. His heart raced with anticipation,
driven by a deep longing to be on stage. Far from ordinary, his
distinctive fennec traits set him apart, making him uniquely
captivating. Unlike many of his kind, Miran thrived under the
spotlight.
As his keen eyes swept over the crowd of prospective bands, he
observed how they mingled with fans eagerly awaiting the next
performance. His gaze lingered on a few striking faces, but one
stood out—a leggy woman at the bar, drinking with an intensity
that suggested more than casual indulgence. Nearby, a man exuded
a rhythmic confidence, seemingly lost in his own groove.
Feeling a flutter of nerves, Miran decided to shake them off
with a bit of flirtation and a drink. Drawn to both men and
women, he followed his instincts for the day, choosing the man
as his focus. Unattached and not yet seeking a mate—most of his
kind waited until they had acquired most of their tails—Miran
embraced the freedom to savor life's pleasures in his own way.
He ordered his drink, his nerves betraying a faint tremor as he
glanced toward the stage where someone was about to perform.
Taking a sip, he turned to the man and, with a playful smile,
said, "Hey cutie, what are you up to?"
—
Apollon’s head tilted just slightly at the bold greeting, his
amber-gold eyes catching the dim light and seeming to burn
faintly from within. The corner of his mouth curved upward in
something between a smirk and an invitation.
"Depends," he said, his voice smooth and laced with heat, like
the promise of a fire in the dead of night. "You talking to me
because you’re curious… or because you’re looking for trouble?"
His fingers idly summoned a small ember that danced across his
knuckles, the flicker of flame reflected in his gaze. He didn’t
break eye contact, letting the quiet, smoldering pull of his
aura wrap around the fennec like smoke.
"I’m just here to enjoy the music, maybe… find a little
inspiration." His gaze swept over Miran briefly, as though
sizing him up—not just physically, but in spirit. "Something
tells me you might be interesting enough to spark a song."
He let the ember wink out with a casual flick of his wrist,
leaning just a little closer.
"So, cutie, what’s your story?"
--
"Maybe just to break the ice," said Miran, chuckling nervously.
"I'm already feeling jittery, and I'm not even on stage yet. You
seem like the type who could help calm those nerves."
He took a sip from his drink, setting the glass down with a
quiet clink. “Just a musician trying to find his place in the
world. Been trying to hook up with a band or two, just hadn’t
had luck as of late.” He spoke thoughtfully, his gaze shifting
toward the small stage.
A man with a weathered guitar stepped into the dim spotlight,
the soft glow casting long shadows on the wooden floor. His
fingers danced along the strings with a raw, unpolished fervor,
each chord resonating with a heartfelt authenticity. The notes
wove through the room, mingling with the hushed murmurs and
distant clatter of glasses, creating an atmosphere that felt
intimate. Despite the rough edges, his talent shimmered, like a
diamond glinting under a thin layer of dust.
“What about you? Just here for the music? Or are you a
prospective going for a band? Or the band itself?” Miran asked,
his curiosity piqued as he found a nearby seat, his eyes still
lingering on the stage.
—
Apollon let his gaze linger on Miran, taking in the nervous
chuckle, the way his fingers curled just slightly around the
glass, the flicker of anticipation in his eyes. It made
something in him soften.
"You’ve got that restless energy about you," he murmured, his
tone velvet-smooth. "Like a flame that’s just waiting for the
right wind to catch." His gaze flicked briefly to the stage,
then back, unyielding. "You’ll do fine up there. Jitters just
mean you care about it."
He shifted in his seat, leaning forward so that the space
between them shrank to something warm and deliberate. The subtle
heat radiating from him was almost tangible, and his eyes
carried that hypnotic glint that always seemed to promise more
than his words revealed.
"I do play," he admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"But I’m not here chasing a spot. I’m more the kind who… fuels
the fire in other people’s music. A muse, if you like. Sometimes
a distraction. Sometimes an inspiration." His smile widened
slightly. "Depends on how much trouble I feel like being."
One of his hands, warm from the ember he’d been rolling a moment
ago, brushed against Miran’s forearm—light, grounding. "If those
nerves start to get the better of you," he added, voice dropping
a shade lower, "I have a trick for that."
He tilted his head, leaning just close enough for Miran to feel
his breath.
"A kiss for luck. Works every time."
--
“Of course I care. It’s one of my deepest wishes in this life,”
said the fennec, his nose twitching slightly at the faint scent
of demon lingering on the man. After a brief pause, he added
with a wry smile, “Enjoy my youth before I truly settle down,”
and downed his drink in one swift motion.
“After all, every new experience in life earns me another tail,”
he declared boldly, making no effort to conceal his true nature
among the humans.
“Fuels the fire, huh? How do you manage that?” he inquired just
before feeling a light, almost flirty but undeniably comforting
touch.
Then came the mention of a trick to ease nerves. Intrigued, he
side-eyed the man and asked, “Oh? And what’s that?”
He would turn to see Apollon so close, his lips twitched
slightly. Almost closing the distance.”well then.. best give me
the kiss so I can get the Luck if I do it - I’d be just giving
it away no?” He said with a rather sly smirk.
—
Apollon’s smirk deepened, a low, rich chuckle rumbling in his
chest. “Oh, you’re bold,” he murmured, clearly approving. “I
like that.”
Without another word, he closed the last bit of space between
them, one hand coming up to cradle the side of Miran’s face. His
lips met the fennec’s in a kiss that was anything but shy—warm,
lingering, and threaded with the faint, intoxicating heat of his
fire demon blood. It was the kind of kiss that stole the noise
of the bar away, leaving only the beat of a shared rhythm and
the taste of promise.
When he finally drew back, his amber-gold eyes held a glint of
wicked amusement. “There,” he said softly, thumb brushing the
edge of Miran’s jaw. “Luck, delivered… and maybe a little more
than that.”
He leaned back just enough to let his gaze sweep over Miran
again, deliberate and appreciative. “Go knock them dead up
there. And when you’re done…” A slow smile curved his lips. “…if
you’re still craving a little fire, I’ll be right here. We can
see how much more luck I’ve got in me.”
--
Miran's grin stretched even broader, the compliment of his
boldness fueling the spark in his eyes, delighted to know it was
admired.
It would be mere moments before he’d feel the fingers slide on
his face before their lips locked. It felt warm and
intoxicating. It would leave him wanting more.
Miran's breath hitched, as the tender brush of a thumb traced
along his jawline. He would exhale slowly and gave an expression
of pure want and need right back. “Oh?- must be since it left me
wanting more.” He said pointedly.
“Maybe after the festivities- and seeing if anyone wants me
outside of the bedroom.” He teased as he hoped he would hook
someone in.
He got to be on stage as he would introduce himself.
“Hi, I'm Miran. I play the bass, and guitar-and also sing in
Japanese. I'm excited about the opportunity to join a band and
contribute my skills if you want me.” He said in the microphone
before he would start playing.
His voice resonated through the room as he sang a familiar
cover, the drummer seamlessly supporting him with a steady beat.
Each note struck like a thud in his chest, especially when he
belted out lyrics in his native tongue, captivating most of the
audience.
Immersed deeply in the performance, his kitsune nature nearly
surfaced. However, thanks to the gem introduced by a friend, his
half-form remained hidden from human eyes, concealing the sudden
appearance of ears and tails. This transformation was beyond his
control whenever he lost himself in the groove of the music.
Still, those with inhuman senses could see his true form, while
illusions cast by his power were often dismissed as clever
projector effects. These illusions stood firm, ensuring his
secret remained safe on the nights he performed.
His eye scanned for Apollon seeing if he was into it. But for
some reason the woman that was a few seats down seemed immersed
as well. Being the man he was, began to get flashy. He wanted
those eyes on him.. man woman- it didn’t matter.
>>>>
^^^
His eye would trail from Apollon to the other that seemed
fixated. He noticed her opening a notebook and writing in it
before he would end.
Once done he would breath a bit heavy and make his way back to
Apollon. Water was waiting this time, and he took it gratefully.
He would drink it down, him taking a rather soft breath. “Let’s
hope that stuck and I get some sort of work.” He told Apollon as
he sat down.”let’s enjoy the drinking and see if I get
approached.” He said, his ears sliding in finally.
—
Apollon had been leaning against the bar as Miran took the
stage, the flickering lights glinting in his amber-gold eyes.
From the very first note, he’d been caught—drawn in by the rich
timbre of Miran’s voice and the easy confidence that grew with
every chord. His gaze never wavered, not even when the fennec’s
illusions rippled faintly, betraying a glimpse of something
wilder beneath.
But when Miran’s eyes slid away from him to that woman in the
crowd, lingering a little too long, Apollon felt the faintest
prickle in his chest. Not anger—yet—but a tiny spark of
something territorial. His lips curved faintly, hiding it behind
the practiced veneer of an entertainer, but the ember was there.
When Miran returned, Apollon’s smile was slow, warm, and just a
touch edged. “You were… unforgettable up there,” he murmured,
letting his gaze sweep over him like he was memorizing every
inch. “And I wasn’t the only one who thought so.” His eyes
flicked briefly in the direction of the woman before returning,
locking with Miran’s in a way that burned away any pretense.
He let a moment pass, then leaned in slightly, his voice low.
“Why wait for someone to come to you?” His tone carried that
smooth, coaxing quality of someone used to pulling people into
his orbit. “If someone catches your eye… man, woman, doesn’t
matter—go claim the moment before it cools.”
A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “Or,” he added,
letting his hand brush lightly against Miran’s knee, “you could
make me your next moment. I promise I’m more fun than sitting
here waiting.”
--
Miran leaned back, savoring a slow sip from his drink. "If we're
talking about fun, well, you're the one who reeled me in," he
said with a teasing grin. "But I’m talking about work." His
chuckle faded into a thoughtful pause. "I tend to linger... not
that I have high hopes," he admitted with a grumble. Then, his
eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he added, "Though I
can't deny, I've got every intention of making you the next
unforgettable moment in my life. Besides, maybe someone will
finally realize I'd make a damn good bassist—and recruit me." He
leaned in closer, his gaze intense.
"Or… do I sense a bit of jealousy because another pair of eyes
is looking this way?" he teased smoothly.
"Well, let’s give them a good show, hmm? So she knows exactly
who I’m leaving with tonight," he murmured before leaning in for
a passionate kiss.
Just then, a woman with vibrant purple hair and an unmistakable
party-like energy sauntered over. Her steps were slightly
unsteady, betraying her tipsy state, but her confidence
radiated. With a mischievous grin, she slung an arm around Miran
as he parted from Apollon, leaning in close. From the pocket of
her leather jacket, she produced a sleek card, flashing it with
a flourish.
"Bassist, right?" she said with a smirk. "I’m looking for
one—and I like how you play. My number. For when we both get a
chance."
As she sauntered away, another figure passed by, her eyes
trailing the woman. "Bye-bye," she drawled before continuing her
tipsy path, draping an arm around another woman.
Miran, initially annoyed, blinked in surprise—not because he
wasn’t being hit on, but because a potential band opportunity
had just landed in his lap. Flipping the card, he noticed it was
handed to him upside down. The name Lucinda Ravencroft stood out
boldly, with her number etched below.
"Hmm… guess I got one," Miran mused with a smirk. "Now, shall
we? Your place or mine seems your good luck.. granted me one.”
—
#Post#: 1441--------------------------------------------------
Re: Dreams come True - Apollon/Miran
By: Minyaagar Date: February 16, 2026, 9:11 pm
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Apollon’s smirk was slow, indulgent, and just a touch dangerous.
“My good luck, hmm?” he murmured, eyes flicking to the card
before locking on Miran again. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you
keep cashing in on it.”
"Your place would be better, I've got a half dwarf roomie that's
super grumpy," Apollon replied with a roll of his eyes.
He followed Miran's lead with that easy, confident stride, their
shoulders brushing just enough to make it feel intentional. By
the time they reached the fennec’s apartment, the air between
them was warm with unspoken promises.
Once inside, Apollon took a slow look around, then back at
Miran, the corners of his mouth curving in quiet approval. He
closed the distance in a few easy steps, his hands sliding over
Miran’s shoulders before trailing down his sides, thumbs
brushing his waist.
“You know…” he said, voice low, a faint ember dancing over his
knuckles before winking out, “there’s something I think you
deserve to know. Call it fairness—since you’ve been so
unapologetically yourself tonight.”
He leaned in, his breath warm against Miran’s ear. “I’m not just
some pretty face with good rhythm. I’m half fire demon, half
fae. Makes for… interesting nights.” His fingers gave a light,
deliberate squeeze at Miran’s hips. “And,” a playful chuckle
escaped him, “it also means I can see through your little human
disguise.”
Apollon drew back just enough to meet his gaze, his hands still
resting at Miran’s waist. “Those ears and tails? You wear them
well. Almost a shame to hide them.” His smirk deepened, eyes
glittering with challenge. “So… now that you know I know—still
planning to let me stay?”
--fin--
Miran chuckled softly. "I have a roommate too—but he prefers
working at night. He's a vampire," he said with a grin before
they continued on their way.
As they walked, Apollon following close behind, Miran suddenly
felt hands on his shoulders. Turning slightly, he allowed the
hand to shift away. At that moment, Apollon confessed quietly,
"I did catch a mixed scent... but the fae are hard to detect. I
suspected, though. Supernaturals can see what I am—that was
intentional."
“And of course- why would I not? I did invite you to my den..”
he said with a sultry sound to his voice, he pulled away as his
shirt came off, leading Apollon to his room. It was a little
messy, and in black and greens about the room. The posters that
littered the walls were of various bands from various times.
“So.. gonna stand there or you coming?” He said as his ears
perked up some as his tail swayed.
—fin—
Apollon’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile as he stepped
into the room, his gaze sweeping over the band posters and dark
color palette. “Mm… black and green. Suits you,” he murmured,
voice carrying that low, velvety heat.
His eyes tracked the sway of Miran’s tail, the way his ears
perked, and something in his expression sharpened—like a
predator spotting the most tempting kind of prey. “Invite me to
your den and expect me to just stand here?” He chuckled, closing
the distance in an easy, deliberate stride.
When he reached him, Apollon’s hands found their way back to
Miran’s waist, fingers curling just enough to tug him closer.
“Careful, fox,” he said, his tone dripping with promise, “you
keep looking at me like that and I might forget we’re supposed
to be taking this slow.”
He leaned in, his lips brushing the curve of Miran’s ear,
letting his words ghost warmly against his skin. “Though… I
don’t recall you ever actually saying we were taking it slow.”
Drawing back only slightly, Apollon’s golden eyes locked on his.
“So… what’s it gonna be? You still leading, or do I get to set
the tempo now?”
-----fin
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