#fantasy ro

"Where Silver Meets Skin"

Title: "Where Silver Meets Skin": The Hobbit fanfiction

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader Male ( human )

Genre: Fantasy | Romance | Slow Burn | Tension/Enemies-to-Lovers vibes

Warnings: none.

Summary: While patrolling the edges of Mirkwood, King Thranduil encounters a bold, tattooed human living alone in the forest. What begins as suspicion quickly turns into fascination, sparking a tense and dangerous attraction neither of them expected.

The forest grows quieter the deeper Thranduil rides into it.

Mirkwood knows its king. The trees bend subtly toward him, the undergrowth parts without protest. Yet today, the silence feels… watchful. Wrong. Tracks have been found—booted feet, not orc, not elf—and so Thranduil leads a small party beyond the usual borders of patrol.

They expect a trespasser.

They do not expect a cabin.

It sits in a small clearing like it has grown there, timber walls darkened by age and smoke, stacked firewood lining one side. Human craftsmanship—crude compared to elven halls, but solid. Lived-in.

Thranduil raises a hand, halting his riders.

Then he sees you.

You stand near a chopping block, back to them, an axe rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You are shirtless despite the cool air, skin warm and marked, muscles shifting beneath inked stories. A full sleeve wraps your arm—black lines and symbols twisting with every movement. Across your shoulders, dark shapes stretch like wings caught mid-spread, disappearing down your spine. Sweat glints along the curves of your back, catching the sunlight that filters through the canopy.

You are wholly unarmored.

Unafraid.

The axe comes down with a solid crack. You pause, sensing something, and turn.

Your eyes meet his.

“Well,” you say, voice rough from exertion, mouth tugging faintly at one corner. “You’re either very lost… or very confident.”

Several elves raise bows instantly.

Thranduil lifts a single finger.

You don’t flinch. You don’t bow. You don’t scramble for decency. You just stand there, sun-warmed skin and ink on full display, studying him with open curiosity.

That, more than anything, is a mistake.

Or a challenge.

“You stand on elven land,” Thranduil says, dismounting in one smooth, predatory motion. His crown glints as he approaches you, pale and cold as winter moonlight. “Unarmed. Uninvited.”

You glance down at the axe. “Unarmed feels inaccurate.”

A murmur ripples through his guard.

Thranduil’s lips curve—not a smile, but something dangerous. He stops a few paces away, close enough now to see the faded edges of older ink beneath the newer lines, the scars hidden among the art.

“You cut wood as if you expect trouble,” he observes.

“I’ve learned to,” you reply. “Forests don’t care who you are.”

“Mine does.”

Your gaze flicks briefly to his crown, then back to his eyes. “Ah. That explains the attitude.”

That does it.

Thranduil steps closer—too close, by any sensible measure. His presence is overwhelming, ancient, sharp as frostbite. He reaches out without warning and grips your tattooed arm, fingers cool against heated skin.

You tense instantly.

Not in fear.

In readiness.

Interesting.

“These marks,” he says quietly, thumb tracing the curve of black ink over your bicep. “They are not decorative.”

“No,” you answer, jaw tightening. “Neither are scars.”

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. The air between you hums—elf and human, eternity and inevitability colliding in a forest that has seen both rise and fall.

Thranduil releases you slowly, as if doing otherwise might shatter something.

“You live alone?” he asks.

“Not anymore, apparently.”

That earns you a sharp look—and then, unexpectedly, a low, breath-soft laugh.

“You are bold,” the Elvenking says. “Or foolish.”

You meet his gaze evenly. “Same thing, depending on how long you live.”

Something shifts in him then—something dangerous and alive. He straightens, authority settling back into place like a blade sliding home.

“You will not leave,” he says. Not a question. “And you will not cut another tree without my knowledge.”

You tilt your head. “That a threat or an invitation?”

Thranduil mounts his elk again, eyes never leaving you.

“Be careful, human,” he says coolly. “Curiosity is a costly thing.”

As he turns his riders back toward the forest, you call after him-

“King of the Woodland Realm!”

He pauses.

“If you’re going to keep watching,” you add, voice carrying, amused and unapologetic, “you could at least say you like the view.”

For a long moment, the forest waits.

Then Thranduil rides on.

But the tips of his ears burn, and he does not forget the way the sunlight loved your skin.

Nor the unsettling certainty that this—you—will not be a passing curiosity.

It will be a problem.

And gods help him—

He wants it to be.

My main masterlist

you already know what to do baby!

Legend says that Prythian, the realm of the faeries, was once all one united land. But its inhabitants were never able to decide who should rule the entirety of the faerie realm, which thrust the faeries into constant war. As soon as one king was installed, he would be assassinated and another would take his place. The bloodshed continued for decades before The Mother, the great goddess of creation, intervened. She divided the Land of Prythian into seven courts: Day, Night, Dawn, Spring, Summer, Autumn & Winter. For each court, she selected a faerie to rule it, and upon each of them she bestowed a gift that would be passed down their line. These gifts were given to allow each ruler a power that no other faerie had, so that they might protect themselves from their court being taken over by another.

This is how it has been for five thousand years, but Prythian is by no means peaceful. Although the battles between the faeries are largely over, many other terrors still lurk in this realm. There are stories of monsters lurking in the shadows, spies within the courts, and the awakening of an ancient evil….

PRYTHIANHQ is an OC supernatural/historical/royal rp set in a fictional faerie realm based on Sarah J Maas’ ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ book series, which you do not have to have read to join.

Oh. My. Gosh.

I did not think about adding were-cats!

I'm going to sprinkle a few in now that you've given me the idea and as soon as I can I'll be posting them. That's. My goodness I can't believe I didn't think of that!

Thank you!