irises are symbols of hope
Thump-thump, thump-thump…
“Oh my dearest, where are you?” a sing-song voice rings out on the now-silent battlefield. “I swear I won’t harm you~”
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
Your heart is threating to escape through your throat, and you can barely keep your mouth closed and breathing steady as your adversary comes closer and closer to discovering your hideaway.
“Sweetest little [Y/N], don’t be shy! I promise you, your punishment will be swift and merciful… considering what you have done to me!”
You can hear the smirk in his voice as he just-just misses seeing you as you dart to a new hiding place.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
As you cautiously peer around the corner of the only thing that is currently shielding you, you notice that he is standing with his back to you!
Now is your chance!
You jump up from behind the overturned table, grab some more flour from a bag near the door, and charge towards him shouting your battle cry!
“FOR THE BISCUITS!”
Finrod whirls around just in time to catch you in his arms and you both slip and fall on the evidence of your gruesome battle: shattered eggs that litter the floor and pools of white flour attesting to your exploits in the kitchen for the past half-hour.
The hush is deafening as you two stare into each other’s eyes in shock at what had just happened. But then Finrod starts giggling and his laughter is so contagious you join in. By the time that it escalates to full-blown guffaws, you’re struggling to breathe and by the look of Finrod, who is completely dishevelled with his hair full of flour and egg yolk, he isn’t faring much better. His arms wrap around your waist and you adjust yourself so you sit more comfortably across his lap.
“Well! That was certainly a unique battle cry! But what will you do now, oh great victor of this fight?” he asks breathlessly. “What spoils will you reap?”
“This!” you answer with a laugh as you dive in for a kiss and throw your arms around his neck.
He reciprocates after another burst of laughter leaves him, and his chest continues to reverberate pleasantly against yours. When you break apart for air, your eyes are met with the sight of a golden prince loopily staring back at you with a smile and so much love that you can’t help but blush.
“I missed this. I missed this a lot. Being corporeal again certainly has more perks than being just a fëa.” His words are soft; barely more than a whisper. His eyes have a faraway look in them and you realise he’s caught in one of his memories of Beleriand and the way he left it behind. He looks so sad and it breaks your heart to see your lover so lost in the past.
“Oh? Such as?” you tease him in an effort to try and bring him back to the present; to you and your home in a quiet valley near Tirion, far away from Maiar and werewolves and dead friends.
It seems to have worked because he looks at you with droopy smile and taps your nose with a flour covered finger.
“Such as being able to hold you safe here in my arms. Or being able to smell the flowers we had planted out front. Or being tickled by your cold toes at night. Or hearing your laughter when you do that. Or feeling your lips against mine – I love how soft your lips are. Were they always this soft?”
His answer throws you for a loop as you remember what you have been through in order just to have this little piece of nirvana with Finrod. All the therapy, all the nightmares, everything. Even when you had felt like giving up, that it was your fault he ended up this way, this never would’ve happened if I had just went with hi-
Damnit, that is not helpful thinking. He’s safe now, he’s here now, he’s yours again now. What is done, is done. No use crying over spilt milk. Or eggs. Or flour.
You crack a crooked smile as you let your ear rest against his heart.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump…
“Hmm, I think they might be this soft because of the egg whites you so courteously threw at me earlier…”
You’re greeted with one of his rare genuine smiles as his blue eyes light up.
Oh. Oh no.
“Oh? I must do that more often then!”
His only answer is your sly smile and mischievous eyes wrinkling as you dump the flour you still held in your hand on his head and your ensuing cackles as you shake off his grip and dive through the open window and out into the field of irises and daffodils out back.
“Race you to the river, you kitchen-monster!”
A/n: this was for an anon but sadly I lost the ask :(
But I still hope you enjoy this! xx