How They Flirt With You {Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir}
These characters are part of a request - honestly, I should had written them earlier but better now than never!
⇢ ˗ˏˋThranduil
Flirting, to Thranduil, is not some casual amusement. It is warfare in silk and gold. He doesn’t pursue. He doesn’t woo. He reigns, and waits for you to falter first.
His presence is overwhelming. All poise and control, the kind that dares you to come closer even as it warns you not to.
He doesn’t lower himself to ask if you’re drawn to him. He knows you are. You wouldn’t dare approach otherwise.
“You’ve been watching me. Tell me — was it awe or envy that froze you in place?”
He speaks like frost biting the edge of a blade — cold, gleaming, beautiful. Every word is chosen. Every pause calculated. And you can feel it: he is testing you.
Thranduil’s compliments are puzzles — double-edged, laced with both flattery and warning.
He praises your mind, but questions your intent.
He notes your beauty, but wonders how long it will last.
He enjoys your presence, but reminds you how easily he could dismiss it.
“You are… intriguing. Like a flame in a glass vessel—delicate, flickering, easy to extinguish.”
His words stay with you long after he’s gone. You’ll lie awake, wondering — was that affection… or a warning?
He doesn’t need to touch you to seduce you. He simply exists near you and that is enough to set your skin aflame.
He walks past so close your sleeve brushes his but he does not glance your way.
He leans near to speak and you catch the cool scent of something ancient, something wild but he pulls back before your breath steadies.
His fingers pause near yours — not quite touching — and then withdraw with maddening restraint.
“You flinch so easily. And yet… I haven’t even begun.”
You ache for his touch. He lets you ache.
Thranduil flirts by giving you nothing. And in that nothing, you crave everything.
He answers questions with questions.
He leaves you suspended between offense and flattery.
He silences you with a single, steady gaze and the unbearable knowledge that he knows what you were about to say.
“You think I am toying with you. How strange. I was merely watching how long it would take before you broke the silence.”
Even when he says nothing, he’s winning. You speak to fill the space and he watches, amused, listening for the cracks.
If you earn something real — his interest, his time, his trust — his demeanor shifts so slightly that only the most observant would notice.
His wit still bites, but there’s a shadow of softness in it now.
He does not smile but his voice lowers, as if the words are only for you.
He lingers longer than he must. His silences stretch not with condescension, but contemplation.
“I do not often stay where I am not needed. Yet here I am. Still. Curious, isn’t it?”
And in that stillness, he gives you the closest thing to a confession Thranduil will ever offer.
⇢ ˗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.
If anyone is interested, feel free to request headcanons/scenarios or drabbles - I’m open to them!
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(Reader is Butcher Ken’s wife and Mel and Breadhead’s Mama.)
• Being the wife of a mafia boss while being the mother of a human and a yeast golem is pure insanity, but when it comes to the love for your family, there’s nothing you cannot handle.
• You mostly spend your days tending to The Whale Belly Butchershop while Ken and Mud are on their missions with the kids, but it’s not unheard of for you to join them.
• Mel would always be the first person to bounce into your arms after a successful killing mission, rambling about how awesome the trip was and how she helped the gang. She would always love hearing your words of praise after putting up with Ken’s endless bickering for her safety.
“…and then I used the chainsaw! Pretty cool, huh, mom?”
“Oh-ho-ho! I wish I was there to see it, sweetie!”
• You would always quickly tend to Mel whenever she was injured after a mission.
• Like Ken, you were severely worried about your daughter’s safety, considering how you and your husband are the only people who know she’s a human. Though, unlike him, you’re not as overprotective.
• And Mel absolutely loves you for that. She would often use you as leverage for winning arguments with her dad when it comes to her safety.
“Mel, I always told you not to-!”
“Oh, c’mon, Ken! You never let me go outside on my own! Mom always lets me!”
“DON’T BRING YOUR MOTHER INTO THIS!”
• Breadhead is a total mama’s boy and will always look forward to at least spending time with you every single day. The silly bread man just loves your guts. You’ve been nothing but sweet to him since he was a bun in the oven and he’s always willing to return the love.
• Anything his mama says, he’ll do it. Do chores at work, he’ll do it. Bring a souvenir from one of the missions, he’ll do it. Cement the man that insulted your cooking, he’ll do it.
• Just like how Mel wants Ken to be proud of her, Breadhead can’t get enough of you being proud of him.
• There was a time when you joined the Smiling Dead on a mission and Breadhead was bubbling with excitement. He was twice as excited to fight with his mama and often turned to you for praise after brutally mutilating a random Rotling.
“Mama, did you see that? Did you see what I did?”
“Of course, honey bun. Mama’s so proud!”
“Heh heh! Mama’s proud of me!”
• Even though you don’t join missions, you’re just as insane and demented as the rest of the crew. Though you do a better job at hiding it than the others. Ken and Mud find you fun to be around because of this.
• Your kids would be busy ripping apart their latest victim and you would be just watching them, unfazed with a calm yet proud smile, completely splattered in the victims purple blood.
• Ken would always plan date nights with you whenever your schedule was open. Slow dancing in the closed butcher shop with soft music in the background was always his go-to for a romantic night.
• You and Ken were the undead Bonnie and Clyde of the town, but better. You, Ken, and Mud were the only members of the Smiling Gang before Mel and Breadhead were born.
• Mud would often reminisce those days. He would always bring up how he missed those good old times when it was just you three and how much more exciting and crazier the missions were back in the day.
“Ah, Mel. You should’ve seen (Y/N) back then when she was in the crew! She was one crazy bitch!”
“Watch it, Mud! But yes, I quite was…”
• Mud often tends to steal your things just to rile you up. He knows that pissing you off is like playing with fire, but hey, what’s more fun than bickering with his sister-in-law?
• Being the wife of a mafia don always has its perks. Ken never stops spoiling you after making a good amount of scarab from work. Dresses, jewelry, custom-made knives, he always knew what you wanted.
• He happily remembered how you squealed with joy and covered his face with kisses after he gave you a torture rack as a gift on your 4th anniversary together.
• And just like Ken, you know how to spoil him too. Cooking his favorite meals, gifting him a new car and weapons, giving him a divine massage after a long and hard day of work, and always being there for him when he needs a hand.
• Ken feels like the luckiest man on earth whenever you have his back. He always tends to solve his own problems when it comes to crooks that try to mess with his family, but when his wife does it for him? He has hearts in his eyes for you.
• There was a time when a random creepy guy tried to grope Mel in the butcher shop. Before Ken could skin the fool, the creep was already bleeding on the ground, shrieking for mercy from you. But his pleas fell upon deaf ears.
• The other residents of the shop nearly pissed icicles from the smiling death stare you gave to the creep while slowly torturing him. Your calm threats to him didn’t make it better either. While Mel watched you slowly eviscerate the creep in excitement, Ken swooned at the sight of his beautiful wife defending their daughter.
“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!”
“…If you ever try to touch my baby girl that way again…I’ll tear out your spine through your dickhole and mulch your shit body into steaming mush…repeatedly and SLOWLY…”
• And yeah. That turns Ken on.
“Uh, dad? Why are you looking at mom like that?”
“Oh, Mel…your mother sure knows how to disturb the peace…in my pants…”
“Cooking with Modern! Sukuna…” ; “Sleeping with Modern! Sukuna…”
Title: Modern! Headcanons without curses
Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x GN! Reader
CW: Possessive behavior, mild threats of violence (not directed at Reader).
—Sukuna absolutely hogs the bed. Sleeps like a king in the middle, one arm over you like a you-move-you-die weighted blanket.
—He pretends to hate when you steal his hoodies but secretly gets flustered every time. “You’re not cold. You’re just annoying.” Then he wraps a blanket around you too.
—Cooking together? Total disaster. He tries to help but gets bored and starts tossing ingredients like weapons. You ban him from the kitchen and he only listens when you pout.
—But he’ll randomly appear with your favorite snacks, tossed at you with a “Here. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
—He texts like a menace. No punctuation. All lowercase. Sends you cursed memes at 3 AM. Occasionally drops a “u up?” just to be annoying.
—Refuses to follow anyone on social media, except you and Uraume (maybe also Jin and Yuji). And you caught him lurking on your stories the second they go up.
—If someone flirts with you in your comments? They disappear. Or worse, they get a reply from him: “They’re taken. Try again and you’ll lose your account.”
—You once found him quietly petting a stray cat. He threatened to kill you if you told anyone. Now the cat lives on your balcony and he feeds it every night.
—He secretly keeps a photo of you in his phone unedited, taken when you weren’t looking. It’s his favorite. He doesn’t know why. He’ll never say.
—When you fall asleep on him, he goes completely still. Won’t move. Won’t breathe too loudly. If anyone dares disturb you? He’s ready to commit murder. Again.
—Sukuna doesn’t say “I love you.” He says:
“Tch. Don’t die while I’m gone.”
“I’ll kill anyone who makes you cry.”
“You better be here when I get back.”
He knows it can be seen as aggressive, but he hopes that you would understand.
—You once told him “thank you” after a rough day. He didn’t respond. But later that night, you found your favorite candy and a note that just said: “…Whatever.”
—He doesn’t like crowds, so your ideal dates are at home: horror movies, ramen, music playing low while he lounges shirtless on your couch like a spoiled cat god.
—He pretends not to care about your hobbies, but you’ve caught him reading the book you recommended. Twice.
—When you’re sick, he’s somehow weirdly good at taking care of you, grumbling the whole time. “You’re so needy. Eat this soup. I didn’t poison it. Probably.” And is well seasoned.
ೀ TWEE!READER who takes it upon herself to steal rafe’s boxers. not for nasty things… just to make them cutesy! she stitches pretty little designs like both of their initials, ladybugs, and hearts. just small along the hem.
but she doesn’t tell him, living for the almost agitated twitch of his eye when he pulls them on and sees the pink thread spelling out her name under the waistband. as soon as she flashes that dopey smile with a whispered, “jus’ wanted to make ‘em pretty, rafey…” he can’t stay mad for long, his mind racing with ideas.
then, he makes her stitch his name into all her undergarments. sliding the cotton panties to the side as he’s rolling his hips into her tight cunt. the slopping sound of his cock nudging her g spot making her pretty nails clutch the polka dot sheets beneath her. hot tears rolling down her flushed cheeks in pleasure only making rafe’s gut churn with more arousal. he huffs out a moan, running his thumb over the red thread that spells rafe’s as he whispers against her mouth.
“fuuuck, there you go, kid— ‘rafe’s’ yeah? s’all mine?”
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Good morning! I'd like to request husband V x GN!Reader Headcannons:3
Good Morning! It's 9:12am (at least it was when i started writing this, its now 10:30 upon posting), im eating some cereal; so lets get right into this set of headcanons! As a reminder, requests are open!! All my headcanons will feature genderless readers/be gender neutral unless requested otherwise.
HEADCANONS. [ HUSBAND! V & READER ]
Standard Killer Chat! Universe.
— V proposed, awkwardly but devoutly. He hadn't seemed like the type to plan anything super fancy for it at all. But he did whisk you away for a small weekend trip, and while the actual proposal wasn't crazy or over the top, it was sweet, well thought; and clearly there was no doubt in his mind about your answer.
— The wedding wasn't anything major. It was just a small gathering with you, him, friends, and few select family members. V let you plan the whole thing from decor to cake flavours, because as long as you were happy so was he.
— And thats how most of your relationship was, as long as you were happy so was he.
— V doesn't believe in over the top jewelry, so your rings were very subtle, with small engravings in them. No gems or anything fancy, just simple bands with small stones and engravings.
— V was a lot clingier than you had ever expected. Constantly brushing your hair from your face, wiping away crumbs that stuck to you... stuff you could do yourself; but the way he went about it? He always looked so... content... so enamored by you when he did it. How could you want to do it yourself?
— You're in pain? Or just don't want to move? V is already across the room/house getting whatever you want/need in the moment without you needing to even voice any thought of asking him.
— He goes half-sies on anything you wanna buy, because its "our funds," what's his is yours, and yours his. And you wouldn't want it any either way, and neither would he.
— He cooks for you, whenever you want; breakfast in bed? Done. A sweet treat in the bath? Done! A drink after work? Done! No asking needed, he just does it if he senses you need something to boost your mood.
— He keeps the house, extra clean; and spotless, just so you don't have to worry about it. And because its typically the animals he's saved that cause the mess. (And its unfair to make you clean anything up)
— V is very much a, sit in my lap, lets snuggle and do something together kind of person I feel. Snuggles in the tub, on the couch, lets you sit in his lap at his desk chair. Whenever, wherever, as long as its possible; he wants it to happen.
A/N: If you don’t want Reader to be Fem! you can ignore. I’m more than content with that, and will do my best to keep Reader GN! in the main story.
Reader looks remarkably like Martha Wayne. She has the same grey eye color, dark curly hair, cheekbones, and chin. But, the rest is all her Momma.
Reader is from a small town in Louisiana. Somewhere outside of Lafayette.
Reader is of Creole and Cajun decent from her Momma’s side of the family. (There is a difference between the two. I also like to keep the skin tone ambiguous because of this.)
She has a Louisiana accent. (Gotham’s very own Southern Bell.)
Reader can speak French. Not completely fluent, but almost.
Reader prefers spicy food. Has a love for beignets too, due to shop in the Smalltown giving her a free one whenever she stopped by.
Reader is itty bitty titty committee member! She still got some meat on her, but she doesn’t have knockers. (I just want some small chested thick girl representation. Not a stick, just no tits.)
Reader can sing and play the guitar, not like a rockstar or some professional. Just fun and heartfelt.(Music vibes are the Crane Wives and Delta Rae.)
Reader loves fairs. Love’s the food, the music, the rides, the shows, the animals. Favorite part, cheating at the games.
Secretly is a Trekkie due to Daddy and Younger Brother’s influence. (I call Younger Brother Jean-Luc or Lukie-Boy in my head.)
Reader is more of tactician then most people realize. (Wayne genetics are strong.)
Do not let the innocent Smalltown charm fool you. Momma was a petty person and Reader takes after Martha Wayne in more than just looks. (And, in one universe, Martha Wayne becomes the Joker. Not saying that Reader will, but the tactical mindset is there.)
Reader can and is willing to play up kinks and flirt for tactical reasons. Will use Rizz to advantage. (Probably won’t use this in the story, but the idea is there.)
Reader is not a physical fighter. Too squishy and only slightly more flexible than average.
Is slightly spoiled. She didn’t grow up impoverished. (Smalltown wealthy is barely equal to Gotham middle class, though.)
Below is a doodle I made of Reader. I’m a bit out of practice. I’m serious, I barely have time to draw in recent years and legit just bought a sketch pad yesterday to get this out of my system.
