After losing Dr. Robotnik in his heroic act, Stone felt a deep emptiness. It was in his nature to care for someone, to serve with a quiet, satisfied smile. Without a purpose, without someone to devote himself to, the world felt hollow. He convinced himself he’d never feel whole again. No one else would need him like that. No one would want him.

Then he met you.

It happened in the most ordinary way—a bump at a café. Your chocolate-sprinkled donut fell straight onto his pristine, wrinkle-free white button-up. He stared in disbelief as the donut hit the floor, but his irritation melted the moment he saw your wide, apologetic eyes and heard your soft, frantic apologies.

Something shifted in him then. He realized what he wanted—no, what he needed. He needed you. He wanted to see those pretty eyes light up when they looked at him. He wanted to bake you donuts so you’d never have to spend another cent on them.

And somehow, he found his way into your life, wiggling into your heart until he was a permanent part of it. Now, he wakes up in your cozy little apartment, calling it home, his heart soaring every time you call him baby.

“There we go, sweetheart,” Stone murmured, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of you. He reached out, his fingers gently smoothing down your messy bedhead. “Extra sugar, just like you wanted.”

He adored doing these small things for you—making your coffee just right, cooking breakfast, fixing a squeaky door. Whether it was a small act of care or something monumental, he didn’t care.

You wanted him, and that was enough.

He loved being wanted. He loved you.