Why isn’t he purring? He’s supposed to purr, keen, croon— Anything!

The bother had gotten to the point of Makarov following you around all day with a pensive look on his ever-grumpy face before you’d been sent out on an op.

He doesn’t even hiss, what’s his problem?! I’ve been courting for weeks and he shows no signs of liking any of it!

Little did he know you had an injury years before ever meeting him, the incident had damaged your scent glands and laryngeal muscles therefore making it near impossible for you to make any kind of enjoyable sounds. Purrs and chirps of contentment sounded like a lawnmower was going off outside whenever it came from you specifically.

Nobody said anything to make you self-conscious of it but it wasn’t pleasant to hear in your personal opinion, so you never did it; you learnt to withhold the sounds.

Makarov did what any concerned alpha with a little too much access to your personal files would do — find out what you liked, what you nested with, your comforts — and bought all of them in hopes of getting a reaction.

You came back from a gruelling six-week mission to find the man in your room rubbing new blankets and clothes against his scent glands to smother them in his smell, your favourite snacks on a bedside table along with a couple drinks you preferred; a nice new lamp giving the room a cozy glow to it.

Makarov’s head turned at some point, realising he wasn’t alone he had looked bitter at first until his eyes landed on you and he turned into some kind of eager puppy. Stumbling up to his feet, the man approached quickly and took your bags from you, setting them aside and sniffing away at you.

“I thought you would be gone longer, trouble,” He admits casually even if he was a little embarrassed about how you’d caught him… “It went well, I take it?”