#werewolffic

[writer-of-many-ships]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types, Sonic the Hedgehog (Live Action Universe) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone Characters: Agent Stone (Sonic the Hedgehog), Sonic the Hedgehog, Miles "Tails" Prower, Knuckles the Echidna, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik Additional Tags: Werewolves, Light Angst, Protectiveness, Loyalty, Slow Burn, Idiots in Love, Mild Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Agent Stone Loves Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik, Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik is Bad at Feelings Summary:

Agent Stone has a lot of similarities to man's best friend. 1. Deathly loyal. 2. Always by the doctor's side. 3. Always ready to defend said doctor. 4. Pines for him when he's gone. 5. Always eager to please. 6. Face lights up almost pathetically at sight of Ivo.

But what if he's not a dog... what if he's a wolf?

And what if both of them have no idea? Other than a few — could just be coincidence — moments that, for now, they merely brush aside.

[neworleansspecial]

(1/23)

“Hey,” he manages. All three people at the table turn to him immediately. “I’m uh, Evan Buckley. I’m looking for Captain Nash?”

The other man, the one who isn’t a wolf, pats the empty seat beside him. “That’s me. Have a seat, Evan.”

“It’s Buck, actually.”

Captain Nash smiles and repeats it before grabbing a new bowl and serving Buck a large portion of the pasta they’re eating, coated in the tomato sauce and still steaming warm. He picks up his fork, like a normal person, and stabs at it for a minute before he gets a couple noodles onto it. That was one of the first things he learned when he came to LA. Normal people, those raised in a normal life, use their silverware and not their hands. It took getting used to, as most things do. But he likes to think he passes well enough that most people wouldn’t know what he is.

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@diazbuckleysworld​

[neworleansspecial]

(5/23)

He's had an itch under his skin since the night before in preparation for this, and the closer dusk draws, the worse it's going to get. Then he'll lose control. There is no sleeping medication here. Buck knew, packing his bag, that if he brought any then he would take it as an easy out rather than go through with this, and he does want on some level to prove that he can handle a full moon. Above all else, he wants to know if he is a monster.

Chimney, for his part, just seems overly energetic. He puts a couple water bottles in the provided fridge and asks Bobby to engage the lock. Apparently, this is it. "We can't open it until morning," Chimney explains. "It's a safety measure. Bobby and the hotel staff have an override code in case of emergency, but otherwise, we're gonna be fine. Oh- I'm gonna order some room service first. Want anything?"

Buck shakes his head, but Chimney still orders two rare t-bones and leaves them on the counter while they waste time until sunset. He's not really up to talking, instead focusing on his game, and the other two seem to sense that and leave him be. He busies himself with the little number puzzle and the comfort of the bed under his back, until the sun's last rays begin to vanish, leaving the room to slip into darkness and the moon to peek into the night sky.

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[neworleansspecial]

(2/23)

Chimney gets it in a way the other two don’t. As they both get more used to each other, another wolf in their lives mostly consisting of humans, Chimney starts in on these overly-familiar behaviors. Buck can’t tell whether it makes him feel welcome or overwhelmed. Either way, it mingles his scent with Chimney’s against every surface in the firehouse, and there are these moments when Chimney reaches out to him, bares his neck and there’s clearly some sort of question there- Buck just doesn’t know what it is, and he’s much too embarrassed to ask.

He doesn’t engage in whatever it is, unsure if he’s allowed. Chimney has more seniority in the station and in this little pack than he does; for all intents and purposes, he’s the Alpha, and it’s his scent that coats every inch of the place. Buck finds his own intermingled in the common areas, as well as the more subtle wafts of Hen and Bobby, with hints of the firefighters on other shifts glancing off the couch. It’s nowhere near the same forced emptiness that the labs had. While it’s overwhelming, it’s also comforting, and he’s starting to get used to it, surprisingly.

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@diazbuckleysworld​ @fyeahhipsterdoctor​

[neworleansspecial]

(4/23)

Maddie buys his iced tea for him, insisting that it’s the polite thing to do since it was her idea. Buck isn’t sure of that exactly. She would know better than he would, though, so he allows her to pay for his tea and follows her to a little table on the patio outside the cafe. The sun is too bright reflecting off their plastic cups and the laminate table, the breeze making him nervous every time it shifts his hair. That sensation is new, too. They had buzzcuts at the labs, never letting his hair get long enough to be ruffled in the wind or gelled down. Even the girls. Hen has a closer shave than Buck did, but Maddie has long waves that move and bounce with every turn of her face, They catch the light in strange ways at the different angles her hair sits. Instead of speaking, he looks at her hair for a while until she says his name softly. 

“Where have you been for the last 15 years?”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. He doesn’t have it in him to really talk about it all, let alone with someone he just met, even though she’s supposed to be his sister. Once again, he thinks about the idea of a big sister when he was still young and free. Her hair was lighter but he gets a millisecond memory of her dark eyes, the same ones in front of him now. He can’t be confident in his assumption it’s her though, or even that the memories were real. She doesn’t ask again, and takes his silence as a reason to change topics.

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[neworleansspecial]

Buck curls up on his bed and doesn’t move for eight hours. He aches in a bone deep way that goes beyond the bruises and cuts on his body from hurting himself and being held down; it hurts in a way that feels like the fact that Chimney and Bobby think him to be a monster. They think him untamable. Maybe the labs were right about him after all, and he deserves to be locked up and looked after rather than loved and cared for. 

[neworleansspecial]

(3/23)

The team needed a firefighter, not a paramedic, and Buck fills that space to the best of his ability. He did good in the academy, he knows, but it takes something more to be useful in the field. He works hard with that. The 118, they teach him where they can and trust him where they can’t. He learns how to use every tool with a certain intimacy void of the practical exams in the LAFD academy. 

Buck hasn’t got anybody besides these three yet, but he’s more than okay with that. It’s more than he’s had in a long time. His outside hours are still lonely, though. He goes home and the place is empty, but that’s the way it usually is with him. He has a handful of items that belong to him. There’s some food in his fridge, the sort he doesn’t have to learn to prepare. His mattress sits in the middle of the floor in the studio, unhidden and taking over the space. It makes the room his. There’s a fitted sheet over it and a simple quilt from the department store. It has brightly colored patterns, vibrant to fill the space. His. There’s toiletries in the bathroom, too, and he keeps his clothes spread out over the floor. He doesn’t have a dresser, and he likes to be able to see it. He owns more clothes than just a hospital gown that got changed on shower day every week. It’s not as filled as the station is, but it’s absolutely worlds less clinical than he was used to in the past. 

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@diazbuckleysworld​ @fyeahhipsterdoctor​ @nearly-writes​

[neworleansspecial]

Here’s a little piece of my werewolf WIP bc I want attention

Determined not to seem too odd, Buck pushes his waffle out of the way of the bacon, to ensure they don’t touch. There’s not much grease on the plate, but he’d still rather none of it ruin his waffle. He doesn’t do meat. Not anymore. It stays off to the side as he pours probably a bit more syrup than he actually needs. He’s discovered sweet things to be irresistible.

“You’re not gonna eat that?” Chimney asks.

His plate has four strips of bacon, but not much for the waffle, and his cheeks are stuffed puffy when he points at Buck’s plate. Buck raises an eyebrow, but still turns it so Chimney can easily steal his bacon. 

“I don’t eat meat.”

They all narrow their eyes at him. Like they know something, which they definitely shouldn’t, but they could. The mere idea of it is enough for Buck to consider shoving the bacon in his mouth, just to prove he’s normal, even if it would make him sick right here and now. But he sits up taller instead. He doesn’t have to prove himself. Finally, Chimney shrugs and mumbles something along the lines of “more for me.”