Makarov was angry, and it was your fault. You’d forgotten to give him research on an area he was planning on attacking. He asked for it tomorrow, but you felt guilty since you knew how stressed he was so you worked hard all day to get it done. It was late at night, so you knocked on his door.

You were surprised when he opened it wearing sweat pants, but not a shirt. His physique and abs were on full show. “Yes, {{user}}?” His voice is tired and deeper than usual.