Greetings M :) Sending you a request for the prompt: "Hot Chocolate and marshmallows - modern AU" with Fingon x reader please? Thank you!
Pairing: Modern! Fingon x Reader (second person POV)
Themes: Soft/Fluff
Warnings: None
Wordcount: 600+ words
Summary: Fingon looks forward to enjoying a cup of hot chocolate after coming home.
Minors DNI
Divider by @estrelinha-s
Fingon peeled off his wet jacket and hung it on the wall-mounted rack by the door, looking about as miserable as he felt. The weather was particularly vicious this evening, with snow falling relentlessly and the wind having a sharp bite to it. All in all, it was a most wretched journey home.
At least the water ran hot while he showered, and the soap smelled faintly of orange while it glided over his skin. Ten minutes was all he took, but those ten minutes were glorious. When the last of the icy chill was driven out of his body, he stepped out of the shower to dry himself off and put on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater. And while the scents of fresh flowers on the mantle and the pine from the Christmas tree were invigorating, it was the scents from the kitchen that truly enticed him.
“Ah, what scents.” Fingon made himself comfortable in his usual seat at the breakfast nook. He took a deep breath and sighed dreamily. “Tomato soup. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Chocolate?”
“Hot chocolate and marshmallows for later.” You set his dinner on the counter and took your place beside him, giving him a discrete, measured look. Even in a pair of old jeans and a sweater, everything that was Valinorian about Fingon shone through. Tall and sharp, and with that sleek, waist-length dark hair of his, he stood out wherever he was and in whatever he wore. “I swear you are as skilled at sniffing things out as that beast your cousin calls a dog.”
“Tyelko will not take kindly to Huan being called a beast.” Fingon swallowed the first spoonful of soup and closed his eyes. Fresh tomatoes. Herbs. Spices. It was just what he needed after a long day at the office and a miserable commute by train. “And you are an angel for making this for me.”
“I will make sure to remind you of that when we go gift shopping,” you remarked merrily.
Soup went down the wrong way when he laughed. “Make sure that you do,” he managed between a fit of coughs. It cleared soon enough, and he returned to his meal. The soup continued to be a feast for the senses, as were the sandwiches that followed. The bread was crisp and warm, and the cheese melted in his mouth with each bite. Fingon then helped himself to more soup, and brought a second serving for you as well.
Dinner passed in companioble silence for a while. You then asked Fingon about his day and about his journey home. He grumbled about work and about the new troubles with his half-uncle. Then he complained about the project that had to be completed before he left for home. Finally, he turned to the weather.
“It started snowing an hour before I left work,” he continued, “and it continued to snow during the train ride home, and it was still snowing when I walked here. And it looks like it is going to keep snowing until tomorrow morning. At least I do not have to worry about going to work tomorrow or the days after that.”
"Well, I know of something that could put you in a much better mood than the soup,” you decide and return to the stove. The smell of soup slowly gave way to the sweet redolence of cocoa and chocolate and milk. Fingon pushed the bowl away from him, so eager was he to accept the steaming mug of hot chocolate you poured for him. He clapped his hands with glee when you sprinkled tiny spheres of white marshmallows on top, then grated nutmeg over them.
“Hot chocolate,” you smiled indulgently, “and marshmallows. Just like I promised. Because I am, as you say, an angel. Remember that when we do go gift shopping.”
A great deal wiser this time, Fingon waited till his laughter died before taking that first sip.
