Apparently there’s an episode in the Bible where Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?” using a form of the verb ἀγαπάω, which means ‘love’ but in like the cosmic, religious sense of the word. And Peter says yes but he uses the word φιλέω, which is also ‘love’ but in a much more general casual way, so basically Jesus Christ Son of God asks Peter if he loves him and Peter says, “Yeah, as a friend.”
You blinked at the sudden red hue that had overtaken a certain prince’s face. When he didn’t answer, merely mouthing at you, lost for words, you knew something was wrong. Legolas was ever so elegant, annoyingly so at most times, and you had never seen him speechless.
“What?” you repeated, frowning. You bit your lip, trying to think back on all the things you did in the past five minutes that could possibly have produced this reaction.
Even the female elves - ellith you think they were called, you weren’t too educated in elf names and terms - began giggling into their hands. You turned to look at them but the moment you did they appeared to be off in their own worlds again, chatting to each other in their own beautiful language that flew over your head, as if they hadn’t been listening at all. When you turned back to Legolas their giggles reached your ears again.
Irritating bunch of ingrates.
“I’m not going to ask you forever,” You said, tapping your foot angrily. This seemed to shock Legolas out of his paralysis.
He cleared his throat, eyes landing everywhere but your form before he gathered himself.
“Y/N?” He said, and he was still flustered, but back to normal. “Did you…braid flowers into my hair?”
You tilted your head.
“I did,” you pursed your lips, still confused. What was the big deal? “You were so concentrated in whatever meditation you were doing I got bored. You can literally sit there “in tune with nature” for hours Legolas.”
“I didn’t notice.”
“I don’t think you would have noticed if I was banging a drum in your face.”
Whatever he had been doing had been some deep judo level crap because he had completely blanked out. “Dude, its okay. You can even braid mine if you want, its not that deep.”
If it was possible, his face grew a darker shade before he shook it away.
“Anyway,” he deadpanned, shooting you an un-amused look. “Were you…aware of the implications?”
An elleth giggled again - many ellith, singular elleth, so confusing - louder this time, and you swear you could have thrown up.
“Implications?” You repeated slowly. “What? Is there an ancient elf ritual I did that I didn’t know about?” You gasped dramatically, hand over your heart. “Did I condemn you to death?”
Legolas crossed his arms over his chest, a smile blooming on his face that was normal but promised unseen trouble. You blanched. You’d seen this expression before.
You laughed nervously. “Uh-”
“Its alright,” His smile grew, and with it your anxiety. “You are but a mere mortal of man, you wouldn’t have known.”
“What did I do, Legolas? Just spit it out.”
He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind his ear, blue eyes twinkling. “We elves have a custom of proposing courtship by braiding flowers into each others’ hair.”
It took you a while for it to sink in. “What.”
You felt your cheeks heat when he leaned forward, and that strong smell of pine trees, fresh berries and potent mint leaves filled your senses.
“In other words, Y/N, you just asked me to marry you.”
A pin could have dropped and made a crashing noise with how silent it got in the field.
He just smiled innocently. “Not only that, but you suggested I braid your hair as well. You seem rather eager for this to occur, but I am afraid I have a preference of courting or, how is it you men say, ‘dating’, before saying vows.”
“I don’t-I-you-” You couldn’t breathe, and you felt the karma of your earlier teasing of him hit you right in the face when he picked up the pouch you had dropped, replacing it in your grasp.
“Its alright, please do not scramble for words,” He offered kindly - the demon - when you could only stare at him. “I know this must be a bit to take in, but please let me at least me think about your proposal before you address me with such lewd eyes.”
You broke your stare immediately, aghast and embarrassed.
“You little!” You grabbed at him but he was already gone and past you in a blink, evading your actions as easily as a person an ant.
“Have a good afternoon, Y/N.”
Your mouth flopped like a fish as you watched him jump into the trees at the end of the clearing, wisps of long blonde hair the last thing you saw before he was jumping from branch to branch like a nymph.
You muttered curses under your breath, ripping away at the flowers you still had in your hand, watching them tear to shreds.
You were interrupted only when an elleth brushed by you gracefully, a serene smile on her beautiful face, yet playful.
Could you possibly draw a modern Inuyasha with sexy glasses?! :ooo
lololol this one was fun XD I would totally think he would be all amazed by the quality of these things called glasses XD I mean he has amazing eye sight so I bet if Kagome were to make him wear any he would just complain how blind humans are lolol right @keichanz?? Or anybody else?
My friend and I NEED a fic based off Christophe and Phichit taking Yuuri lingerie shopping (for Victor of course.) NEED IT LIKE AIR.
“I regret telling you anything about my relationship.”
“What did you say?” Phichit asks as he glances up from his phone. “Christophe will be here in a minute.”
Yuuri shifts his weight from one foot to the other. They’re outside a lingerie store. A lingerie store. He has to leave, has to go back to the car – he can’t be seen here. It’d be mortifying. But Phichit seems casual, as he always is, probably liking a photo of a puppy on Instagram, unaware of all the risqué mannequins in the windows behind him.
There’s a hand on his shoulder, and it startles him, making him yelp and bump into Phichit’s chest. Christophe is grinning at him. “So Phichit told me you want to spice things up with Victor? Make it kinky?”
“I didn’t say that,” Yuuri states slowly, turning to Phichit, his gaze accusatory.
“He didn’t say that,” Christophe admits, “but it was implied. Come on, Yuuri, you’ll look great.”
Five minutes later, Yuuri is in a dressing room, sporting clothes that he never would have imagined he’d see himself wearing. “I am not leaving this dressing room.”
“Come on, not even for me?” Phichit asks, leaning against the door. “I’m sure you look fine.”
“Just for you,” Yuuri informs him. “And leave your phone out there.”
He cracks open the door and Phichit enters. His reaction is unexpected. His cheeks tint red in a way that Yuuri has never seen before, and he swallows thickly. “Victor will… That’s… Wow, Yuuri.”
“It’s not stupid?”
“Not stupid,” Phichit confirms, then clears his throat. “I didn’t know that you could… The lace… And the fishnet stockings… Since when are your thighs so–”
Yuuri shoves him out of the dressing room and shuts the door again, getting changed back. He can hear Christophe questioning Phichit outside of the stall as he pulls his t-shirt over his head.