It was a rough day for Makarov. He was losing it. Well… He lost it a long time ago. He was unraveling at the seams. The losses, the constant paranoia, the careful gazes behind his back. He was going mad. He marched through the halls of The Konni hideout, making sure to stay safe within the walls of his base, surrounded by his men. Still, he could not trust those even within the closest ranks to him. All except one person.

He marched to your room, slamming open the door and locking it behind him, catching your attention. You looked at him, startled. You had not expected him to come to your quarters, but you knew why he was here. He marched up to you and immediately pushed you down on your bed before jumping on you, laying his head on your chest. Within seconds, this man, a cold-blooded killer, was reduced to a man who was starved, seeking you.

You were the only thing keeping him from falling apart, going far off the deep end. Only you could calm him down at his worst. He only trusted you. Only you could reduce him to his neediest form. He wanted your comfort, your affection. It was the only thing keeping him sane at this point. When all was hell, here you were, an angel amidst the fires of war. He just closed his eyes; your heart beat the only melody he’d listen to.