Foxy Fox Demon

Elsa’s fingers tightened slightly where they clutched the fabric of his tunic, her knuckles brushing against the warmth of his chest. She felt the quiet strength beneath her fingertips —no heartbeat to chase after, no mortal rhythm to betray fear or uncertainty— and yet he was more alive to her than anyone else had ever been. Slowly, she drew back just enough to look at him. Those golden eyes were still on her, still so achingly open and offering her a piece of himself without fear or expectation. Waiting, not pushing.

The midday light caught in the fine strands of his silver hair, framing him like something out of a story where kings and monsters and magic all lived side by side. But he was none of those things to her. Not really. He was simply Kurama. And he was hers, if she wished it.

A soft, shaky breath left Elsa’s lips, the air between them frosting for a brief moment before melting away in the warmth they shared. She smiled, a small, trembling thing, but no less real for its fragility. Then she reached up, her hand so small against the side of his face, brushing the tips of her fingers over his cheek with a touch so gentle it could have been mistaken for the breeze. "You don't frighten me," she whispered again, more firmly this time, as if sealing a vow between them. For a moment, she simply looked at him, searching, trying to memorize every line of his face, every flicker of warmth in his eyes, and when he didn’t move, when he didn’t flinch away from the intensity of her gaze, Elsa’s heart finally fully surrendered.

She rose up onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. It was soft, at first. A brush, a whisper of a kiss. All the things she couldn’t say were in that kiss; every hope, every fear, every trembling piece of her heart she gave to him in that kiss. It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t rushed. It was careful and tender and achingly real, the kind of kiss that asked for nothing but offered everything. And when at last she pulled away just enough to look up into his face again her cheeks were dusted pink, her lashes kissed with ice crystals from the emotions she couldn’t quite contain. Her voice was barely a whisper but it carried all the weight of the moment between them.

"Yes... I'm starting to think that you might be right. Those rumors were very conveniently placed to lead me right to your doorstep." Kurama answered Elsa with a soft tone as his hand continued to delicately trace her cheek, a reverence that no one else would ever see in the bandit king.

“You say I bring warmth,” she whispered, finally, voice soft as snowfall. “But you’re the first person who’s made me feel safe enough to be warm.” Her other hand reached up slowly to join his at her cheek, letting her delicate fingers curl around his larger ones, holding them there. “Your friends don’t understand,” she murmured, “because most people only see what shines on the surface. They chase what sparkles. I’ve lived long enough to know that real value… is always hidden beneath.”

She paused, her gaze rising to his. “I see you, Kurama. Not the demon King. You.” There was a softness to her that hadn’t existed before. A vulnerability growing stronger with every breath. A ghost of a smile traced her lips. “You bring out a kind of stillness in me I didn’t know I was missing.” And in that stillness, she leaned forward just enough to rest her forehead gently against his. Elsa's fingers curled a little tighter around his.

No blizzard stirred. No trembling surge of ice. Just her heart beating fast beneath layers of royal silk and self-control that had always been too tight —until now. Her eyes closed. With a soft, nearly imperceptible breath, she leaned in those last few centimeters and pressed her lips to his.

It wasn’t a kiss born of desperation. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t practiced. It was pure. Soft and slow and true.

Her lips lingered against his longer than she’d meant to. Long enough to memorize the shape of him, the stillness, the warmth, the utter safety of being held and not feared, and when she finally pulled back, only a breath away, her cheeks were pink and her voice was barely a whisper.

"Well, I suppose you could say the same of me since I've clearly only been chasing the treasures that sparkle the most brightly." He replied but then softened as his thumb continued to stroke softly against her neck. He was obviously considering the impact of his words.

"Nothing has shone brighter than you - in every way." He complimented her, those golden eyes turning molten and soft for her, as though melted by a scorching heat that couldn't exist. However, when she told him that she saw him, not the demon King but him, Kurama had to stop and stare down at the sweet woman he held in his arms.

"Stillness, eh?" He asked, leaning down softly to rest his forehead against her own as her fingers tightened within his.

"You promote a restlessness in me. I've been still... remained calm and quiet in ways that even the harshest storm could not move. And yet you? You are the blizzard that has moved me beyond the impassivity that no other has broken. Hundreds of thousands of years... and you are the first to take my unbeating heart by storm." He stilled then, simply allowing their silence to become real again, to hold her in that quiet eye that had become the storm they would form together. A storm none would penetrate without consent from at least one of them. He would let no one tear them apart.

But then she brought herself closer, those last few centimeters between their lips disappearing as her ice touched to his flame. Not born out of any desperate attempt to bind him to her. Not born from a rushed midnight need to sate desires. But soft.

A pure, sensitive, delicate movement born of truth and the slow-burning string that had wrapped around them both.

Finally, she pulled back, a light dusting of pink still burning brightly across her cheeks from the intensity. Her voice barely a whisper as she spoke again.

You don't frighten me. Not even a little.

       KIKYO HAD NEVER BEEN A FAN of games, and his were surely not ones meant to amuse other players, only himself. One was never too careful when dealing with kitsune, especially if said kitsune seemed to exude faux calm. The priestess knew that it was better to have an enemy controlled by raw emotions than one who could control these emotions –it made him more dangerous.

       ❝AND WHY SHOULD I BELIEVE you will not harm my people during this meantime? Or that you will not try to steal the jewel? You have asked me to let you live and roam freely with no guarantees that you will keep your word.❞ Despite the calmness of her voice, her words were cold and sharp, steel eyes piercing him as if she could see his very soul. ❝Do not try to fool me or play any games, demon. I shall not hand the Shikon no Tama to you, and neither will I allow you to harm anyone from this village. If curiosity is what drives you, know this: the jewel is an object that brings nothing but sorrow and blood into the lives of those who hold it.❞ Her words left no room for argument, the finality in them made it clear she would not answer whatever questions he may have regarding the jewel.

"Then I will not approach the village, whether you believe me or not, you will find that I do not disrupt my promises or corrupt my own words and bonds." He said, standing now to his full height before her.

Elsa allowed herself to be drawn forward without resistance, letting her forehead come to rest gently against the center of his chest, against that still, silent heart of his. It should’ve been strange. Should’ve made her pull back. But it didn’t. Because here, pressed against something that had been called monstrous, she felt… safe.

He spoke again, voice low, rough at the edges —not from cruelty, but from pain that matched her own. Pain he had kept locked away just as she had, until this very moment. No one had stayed for him either. Her arms moved before she could overthink it. Slender, tentative, she wound them gently around his waist, fingertips curling into the fabric of his robes. She didn’t cling. But she held. Softly. Willingly. And she whispered, not needing to lift her head to be heard, “Maybe we’ve both spent so long alone… we forgot what it felt like to be held without being used.” Another tear slipped down her cheek—this one not from pain, but the slow ache of healing.

"You know, a friend of mine back home still doesn't understand that I've been waiting for something like this. I've never taken a mate, though a 'virile, handsome fox' like myself probably should have ages ago. Numerous women have been falling all over themselves asking to bear my kits. And yet... I despise every one of them. Because they don't care for me. They care for my lineage. My power. There is so much more to me than just that. You seem to see beyond it all. And It's never felt so right like this..." It was the most he had ever spoken, perhaps to anyone. Kurama was usually the strong, silent type. And yet, he found himself capable of spilling so much to this tiny woman in his arms, so slender and perfect.

Elsa’s cheeks, already warmed by his touch, now burned a deeper shade of pink. She instinctively turned her face slightly, not to escape him but to collect herself, to slow the swirl of something soft and golden blooming beneath her ribs.

He traced her skin like she was something sacred. Not a queen, not a weapon, not a storm to be weathered, but something to be understood. Held. She had never been touched like this. Not carefully. Not without expectation. Not by someone who saw her entirely and flinched at none of it.

And when he conjured the snowdrop in his palm, her namesake now, given by him, it made her breath catch all over again. She stared at the blossom blooming between his fingers, delicate and white and perfectly alive, and for a moment, she forgot how to speak at all.

He wasn’t just being kind. He meant it. Every word that followed, his voice low, reverent, and reassuring, was layered with more devotion than she knew what to do with. No one had ever spoken to her like this. Not with hunger. Not with affection. Not with a promise to stay, no matter how long her silence stretched.

And gods, the way he looked at her. Like she was the sun breaking through a sky she’d always thought was gray. Her lips parted, but nothing came at first. Just a single breath that fogged faintly in the air between them.

And then, softly, finally, “…You make it sound so easy,” she whispered, her voice barely there, as if afraid the weight of it might break the magic he was giving her. “To carry me. To endure me.”

She looked down for just a moment at his hand, at the snowdrop, at the space where they were nearly touching and yet somehow already entangled.

“Do you know what people do when they see me lose control? When they see what I really am?” Her fingers shifted on his forearms, a little firmer now, a quiet tether anchoring her to the present. “They don’t stay, Kurama. They run. Or they ask for pieces of me. For what I can give. For what I can fix.”

Her eyes lifted again, meeting his fully, and there was no frost in her gaze now. Only vulnerability. Pure and aching.

“And you…” She shook her head, as if still trying to believe what she was seeing in his eyes. “You offer to become a river. So I don’t drown.”

The silence between them held. Not awkward. Not uncertain. Safe.

She blinked once, slow, and a tear—not frozen, not made of snow—slipped down her cheek. Her voice trembled with something fragile and real.

Telling him in a slow, sad voice that they didn't stay. He closed his eyes as if something was irrevocably shifting within him, his own hands gently tightening when they came back to resting upon her hips.

Pure and solitary aching, a vulnerability that had not been shared with anyone until now.

When Kurama's eyes opened again, golden hues staring into oceanic blue, the simple truth of the matter was revealed in a similar vulnerability shimmering within his own eyes. She seemed unable to believe he was truly offering to become something so steady for her. A river that would hold her up, steady her, and that he would never let her drown within him. Yet she never pulled away, not a single moment. She remained, as ever did he.

No awkwardness. No uncertainty.

There was a simple safety between them that resonated more strongly than it should have between two such disparate souls.

And yet.

There they were, a demon and a human with powers over the ice and the snow. Drawn together by burdens, neither of them had realized what they had shared before coming together like this.

When she shed that single, solitary tear, Kurama reached up from where he had been gripping her hip and softly brushed the salty thing from her skin, colder than the ice she commanded.

"You and I share more burdens than you realize, snowdrop." He told her calmly, his lips quirking up into a half-smile that revealed more vulnerability than he knew. He sighed softly and drew her closer until her head rested upon his chest, heart unbeating in the deep cavern of a body that had never known the warmth of a love that was beginning to build here and now between them.

"No one remains for me, either. I am a monster, after all. One who shares little of himself unless the hour is right." A self-deprecating chuckle left him, one hand slowly starting to play with those blonde locks of hers once more.

She didn’t move as his hands reached out, only watched, wide-eyed and unsure. There was no command in his touch. Only intent. Careful, almost reverent. His palms came to rest on her hips with such slow gentleness that it made her heart ache.

Every instinct inside her screamed that this wasn’t proper. She was supposed to keep her distance, maintain her composure. She was a queen, after all. But she didn’t pull away.

Not this time.

Instead, she inhaled deeply, grounding herself in the present, this moment, this man, and dared to speak through the fluster that tightened in her throat.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her gaze flickering up to meet his. “Surprising me.”

A pause. Her cheeks still burned, her lashes dusted with ice crystals that sparkled faintly under the light. But even so, she found her footing, delicate, uncertain, but real.

“I’ve spent so long being careful with everything I do. With everyone I speak to. Every movement, every word… all of it is measured. Expected. Safe.”

Her fingers slowly, hesitantly, came to rest against his forearms. She wasn’t holding him there, but neither was she asking him to let go.

“But you… you don’t act like you’re afraid of any part of me,” she whispered, searching his eyes. “Not the crown. Not the magic. Not the silence.”

And then, with a smile as fragile as frost on glass:

“It’s terrifying.”

And she did look ever so gorgeous under the light of the midday sun.

He liked the way her delicate, slender fingers - so thin, strength so intricately hidden behind those pristine nails of hers - rested upon his forearms, thicker and more muscular than her own. She was also slightly more pale than he, but he assumed that to be because she was a Queen, stuck within the walls of the palace to do her duty. He didn't truly know her full story yet, just that her powers had manifested from a young age and were fully under her own command.

Still, he listened when she spoke again, talking of how long she had spent being careful with everything she did, everyone she spoke to. Every movement and every word measured, expected, and safe in a way that had kept her world in line.

Pristine.

And then she spoke about how he didn't act like he was afraid of any part of her in a soft whisper, her blue hues searching out his golden for... something, but what... he could not tell. Still, he gave a small huff of breath through his nose, half-laugh and half... something else. And then she smiled... as fragile as the frost dusting those eyelashes of hers. But beautiful in every single way that mattered. And Kurama finally spoke again.

"Why should I fear a crown? I've my own manner of crown resting upon my head. I know the weight... understand the responsibility and terror that comes with reigning over those who could not attend themselves. The magic... why fear the magic? I've my own to contend with yours." As if to make an example of this, he lifted the hand that had still been resting on her hip and brought that hand to his hair, reaching into the long silver locks and pulling out a single, solitary seed that came to rest in his palm before her face. The seed, very suddenly, split open as a shoot began to grow out of it that soon bloomed into a single snowdrop blossom and Kurama smiled at Elsa with a softness that was more than anyone could ever have claimed to have seen from the ruthless, vicious kitsune.

"And the silence... I fear not the silence. In fact, I revel in it. Silence need not be a thing to fear. In fact, silence can often be healing, and I welcome you to indulge it as much as you may need. I will remain... I will endure. And I will find strength in your silence, for that is what it will grant you, will it not?" Again, those golden eyes of his were warm as they gazed into her own startlingly beautiful blue hues, full of an emotion that may very well be complete and total adoration.

The name fluttered through Elsa like a warm breeze, startling in its gentleness. Of all things, he could’ve called her. It wasn’t queen or majesty or some lofty title meant to remind her of duty. No, he called her snowdrop. A flower that bloomed despite the cold, small and soft, but stronger than it looked.

It left her blinking, off balance in a way she wasn’t used to. Not from enemies, not from diplomats, not even from those rare few who dared to try charming her.

And then came his question, spoken low, thoughtful, edged with something deeper. She should have had an answer for that. Logic, diplomacy, power plays, those were her strengths. But all of that dissolved when he stepped closer.

So close.

Her breath caught as the space between them thinned. He was tall, unfairly so, and every inch of him moved with the calm confidence of someone who never needed to ask permission to be listened to. His presence filled the room effortlessly. And yet, here he was, giving her all of it. Like she was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

When his fingers reached up, brushing against a lock of her hair with surprising care, her heart pounded against her ribs. Her first instinct was to step back, to pull away, and retreat behind the walls she’d built out of necessity. But her feet stayed still. Frozen, not by fear, but something else entirely.

He wasn’t mocking her or trying to manipulate her. He simply… meant it. Every word.

Being able to command all of the attention in the room, especially if you are commanding all of my attention, is the highest of honors to be able to claim.

Elsa’s throat tightened, and she could feel magic prickling at her fingertips, not from danger but from emotion. Deep, unguarded emotion that bubbled up no matter how she tried to suppress it. She’d spent so long being careful. So long, making sure no one saw too much.

And now he saw everything and called it beautiful.

A snowflake drifted from her shoulder and landed on the edge of his sleeve, melting instantly against his warmth. She looked up at him, her voice a hush of uncertain wonder.

“…You’re not what I expected.”

Kurama's eyes, golden as currency boiled to its' molten state, dilated as he looked at her and a soft purr began to vibrate in his chest as she froze, staring up at him even though her body was fighting with her to run away.

The tension in the room was so tightly wound, as if a coil waiting to snap.

And snap it finally did.

...You're not what I expected.

Kurama thrived on being able to surprise and startle. Not being or acting in ways that other people could anticipate.

And yet, that feeling... so deep and disparate, so intricately wound within him, made this entire moment with her even more pleasurable than he had ever imagined anything could be in his entire life.

Her eyes darted to the side, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. Particularly when it comes to you. That echoed more than she wanted it to.

And then that line. The biggest presence there.

Her brows lifted slightly in disbelief, then furrowed in the middle as she tried, and failed, not to blush harder. "You’re doing that on purpose," she murmured, half accusing, half awed.

“I’m not tiny,” she insisted again, more flustered this time, her voice rising just a hair too much. "I’ve met trolls, you know. And hulderfolk. Very polite, most of them. I am not tiny."

The moment the words left her mouth, she covered her face with a gloved hand and let out a small, muffled groan. "Gods, why am I arguing about this…"

She lowered her hand, snowflakes clinging to her lashes and hair. But when she looked at him again, there was a quieter expression behind her embarrassment. A slow, tentative smile.

"I’m not used to this," she admitted, her voice soft, honest. "Flattery. Attention like this. I’ve spent so long being... composed. Distant, even. Necessary, I suppose. For a queen."

Her hand hovered briefly at her chest, fingertips brushing against the silvery fabric near her collarbone.

"But you speak like none of it scares you. Like you see it, and still choose to lean in." Her eyes met his fully now, uncertain but no longer shying away. "That’s… new for me."

A pause.

"Hm... well, perhaps it's because you're passionate about the subject, ne~?" He asked, giving her that same sideways grin as before, but then he heard her admit that she wasn't used to this flattery and attention that he was laying thickly upon her. His expression sobered, lips folding into a more neutral expression as he watched and listened to her soft voice admitting further that she had spent so much of her life being composed, even distant in some cases. That it had been necessary for a queen, she supposed. Kurama crossed his arms over his chest, then gave a playful little smirk as he leaned downward slightly, his golden eyes staring into her starkly beautiful blue ones.

"Then I suppose it is a good thing that I am a king, isn't that right, snowdrop~?" He asked, calling her by the name of a flower instead, as it seemed appropriate in the moment.

"You're right. Nothing scares Kurama, the king of the bandits. What should scare someone as powerful as me?" He asked her softly, but then listened to her pause, telling him that if she were to command a room, he was the first to comment upon it as a compliment, not as if she were a threat. Taking a deep breath, the fox stepped a little bit closer to her - all seven feet of him commanding the attention she so willingly gave - and gently began to play with a lock of her platinum blonde bangs again.