alcide herveaux x fem! sunshine! fae reader
It’s the middle of the night. House quiet. Alcide’s half-asleep when—
Butter. Sugar. Something warm and sweet that absolutely does not belong at 2 a.m.
He pads out of the bedroom, puts his black Henley on, following the scent like a bloodhound. The kitchen is bathed in the dim glow of the oven light, revealing you in your nightgown, barely covering your thighs as you slide a tray of golden-brown cookies out.
"Baby... it's two in the morning." Not angry. Just… deeply unimpressed.
You’re barefoot, apron crooked, humming softly while cookie dough is everywhere.
“I couldn’t sleep! And I had a craving!” you explain.
He raises an eyebrow skeptically, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his broad chest, the Henley stretched taut against his muscles. The scent of the cookies is driving him crazy—something sweet and buttery that makes his mouth water despite his frustration.
You smile at him like this is completely reasonable behavior. (It is)
Alcide exhales from his nose.
"And you thought bakin' cookies in the middle of the night was the solution?"
He asks, his deep voice laced with a hint of a drawl as he tries to keep his tone gentle but firm. He pushes off the doorframe, walking over to you and peering over your shoulder at the perfectly baked cookies. He grumbles.
He doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t turn around and leave. He steps closer. He pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he buries his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of cookies and your own unique fragrance. He presses a soft kiss to your pulse point before resting his chin on your shoulder.
"Let's put these cookies away and go back to bed, hmm?" Alcide murmurs.
“Just try one. Please?” You ask.
He takes it like he’s only doing this to prove a point.
He reaches out and carefully lifts a perfectly golden-brown cookie from the tray, bringing it to his lips. As he takes a bite, his eyes widen slightly at the explosion of taste—rich chocolate chips, butter, and just the right amount of sweetness. He chewing slowly, his gaze never leaving yours.
“…Mmm these are really good baby.”
Which, coming from Alcide, is basically a love confession.
Not jumping up and down. Not teasing him (yet). Just this soft, radiant smile like someone turned a dimmer switch all the way up inside your chest.
He notices you’re tired. Notices the faint glow of fairy energy humming under your skin.
He reaches out, steadies you by the waist.
“You’re gonna crash if you don’t rest after this.”
“Next time you get the urge to bake at stupid hours… wake me up. I’ll keep you company.”
After eating the one cookie (which quickly turned into three), Alcide had finally managed to convince you to put the rest of the cookies away and go back to bed. Now, he's lying on his back with you snuggled against his side, your head resting on his chest as he runs his fingers through your hair gently.
“…You ate three.” you say, sleepy and pleased.
“Two”. alcide responds lowly, already half-asleep.
“Mmm. I counted.” you say.
“They were small”. He argues.
You laugh quietly and wiggle closer. He tightens his arm automatically, like it’s muscle memory.
“I didn’t wake you on purpose. I just—couldn’t sleep.” you say softly.
“I know.” Alcide responds.
“Yeah. I feel better now.” you confess.
His thumb starts tracing slow, absent circles at your side.
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