#haldir

Elrond

He is polished and dignified, and has lived long enough to not be strucken by much anymore

Until you strip down in his chamber one day in front of him, and he watches as the fabric falls off your shoulders, unveiling the sage green lingerie that you hid under your clothes

And the sight still makes him pause, despite all the beautiful visions that he would have seen in his long life

The lace catches the candlelight, and he finds himself standing from his seat on the bed and walking to you, hands instantly finding your waist, fingering the fabric

And he melts when you look up at him, your hands finding his chest to gently lay on

"You cannot look at me like that, meleth nin. I am trying to remain decent."

"You do not need to be. It is only you and I here."

He admires you all through your intimacy, pulling back every minute to take in the sight of you under him, draped in the colours of the forest, all for him to explore

Legolas

You do it in a fleeting moment while with the fellowship, having accidentally packed the lingerie when you were rushing to leave with them

You both are on watch, and he has his head tucked on your shoulder from behind, before he glances down and notices a glimmer of emerald hidden below your clothes on your chest

"What's this?" he says with a tone of cheekiness

It isn't long before you give it, pulling your tunic down over your shoulders to show Legolas the top of your lingerie set, and his breath is caught in his throat from the sight

His hands are quick to be on you, tucking his fingers under the straps on your shoulders and moving them to bite the skin there

"Why do you choose to do this now? With everyone so close by? You're truly testing my control."

You find yourself lying on the forest floor, giggling as Legolas's hands slip under your tunic further, revealing more of the lace, and he breathes heavier with every bit of skin revealed

Thranduil

He looks at you like a whole meal

You become nervous under his strong gaze as you stand in front of him, the lace catching the moonlight

He admires heavily, like he's planning on the quickest way to pull the lingerie from you, to leave you completely at his mercy

He leans into his possessive nature

"You look so beautiful in my colour."

His words and touches along you feel like worship dripping in dominance

And you BET he does not get undressed for so long, loving the control he feels with having you covered in revealing lace on his lap while you paw at his golden clothes, becoming shy from his intensity

He teases heavily, loving how you avoid his gaze and cover yourself, only for him to pry your hands away from your body

"Don't you dare hide this gift from me. You are all mine to look upon."

⇢ ˗ˏˋLegolas 

Legolas flirts by paying attention — closer than anyone else ever has.

He remembers the way you braid your hair.

He notices when your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He offers you water before you ask. A cloak before you shiver. Silence when you need it.

“You favor your left when you walk. Did you injure your ankle?”

(Said not as concern but as proof he sees what no one else does.)

He doesn’t seek to impress. He seeks to understand. And that, somehow, is far more disarming.

Legolas speaks with honesty, not innuendo. His compliments are never exaggerated — they’re precise, soft-spoken, and entirely unexpected.

“You are brave,” he’ll say and mean it, not as flattery, but as fact.

“I have never met one like you,” he’ll admit, with no hint of irony.

“You move like someone who has had to fight for stillness. I find that… admirable.”

There is no teasing edge, no mischief. His flirtation doesn’t seduce. It honors.

Legolas does not touch often but when he does, it is reverent.

He steadies you on uneven ground with a hand at your elbow, feather-light and fleeting.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face in battle’s aftermath, his fingers cool, his gaze unreadable.

And if he ever lets you lean against him — it is deliberate, not casual. A choice. A permission.

“You are safe here.”

(He doesn’t mean the campsite. He means his arms.)

He never pushes. He waits for you to reach for him and you will.

Some call it aloofness. But Legolas’s silences are intentional. When he is quiet around you, it is not from distance, it is from comfort.

He sits beside you without speaking, eyes on the stars, letting your presence speak for itself.

He shares memories in fragments — carefully, sparsely — like a rare bloom he lets you see but not touch.

“There are trees in Ithilien that glow silver in the moonlight. I would like to show you, if… if you ever wish to see them.”

His silences aren’t empty. They invite you in.

If he truly begins to feel something deeper, Legolas’s restraint begins to falter in the smallest of ways.

His gaze lingers too long.

He starts saying your name more, even when he doesn’t need to.

He stays close in battle, not for strategy but protection.

“If I seem overcautious, forgive me. I… would rather not lose you.”

It’s not possessive. It’s genuine fear of loss, wrapped in grace.

And when he finally admits his feelings, it will not be in grand gestures but in a moment of stillness so charged with emotion it leaves no room for doubt.

“I am yours… if you wish me to be.”

⇢ ˗ˏˋHaldir

Haldir is reserved to the point of severity, but therein lies the pull, because when he grants you attention, it feels earned.

He watches, silently, and when he speaks — it is brief, measured, and intentional.

He does not smile easily. Which is why when he does, even slightly — it feels like a secret.

His flirting is rarely initiated in public. He is a warden first. But alone? Then you might notice the change.

“You’re observant. I value that… though I would advise against staring too long. It gives others ideas.”

He does not court. He allows you closer. And that, to him, is courtship.

Haldir doesn’t flatter idly. His compliments are scarce and often couched in dry, almost challenging delivery.

He might say, “You’re not as incapable as I feared.”

Or, “You adapt quickly. That is… useful.”

“You surprise me. I don’t often admit that. Don’t make me regret it.”

There’s a touch of arrogance, yes but it’s earned. And when he lets you see the rare glimmer of amusement behind the cool facade, it’s intoxicating.

He does not touch casually. But if he allows himself near you, it’s deliberate.

He will correct your stance with a hand at your wrist, brief but firm.

He’ll lean in to murmur something meant only for you, his voice low, his breath brushing your ear.

He might walk just slightly closer than necessary during a patrol.

“I stay close because your footwork still falters on uneven ground. Don’t mistake it for anything else.”

(It is something else. He just refuses to admit it.)

He will test you — not cruelly, but precisely.

He watches how easily you fluster, how much you push back.

If you return his barbs with wit, he’ll raise a brow — just slightly — and say nothing. But later, you’ll find he lingers longer in your presence.

He never gives all at once. He’ll give just enough to make you question what’s underneath.

“You’re not afraid of me. You should be. I haven’t decided what I intend to do with you yet.”

And it sounds like a warning. But it feels like an invitation.

Should Haldir allow himself to care, the change is subtle but profound.

He’ll begin to offer things unasked: water, protection, information.

He will trust you with silences — not cold ones, but shared ones.

He’ll still mask his affection in discipline but now, it will be laced with quiet protectiveness.

“If anything were to happen to you under my watch, I would consider it a failure. And I do not fail.”

And if you ever touch his hand first — he won’t pull away. He won’t speak. But you’ll feel it in the stillness: he’s chosen you.