Among all his men, you were different. Loyal to the bone, unwavering in your devotion, and terrifyingly efficient. Yet, despite your cold precision on the battlefield, there was something adorable about you. A contrast Makarov found endlessly amusing.

You never questioned him. Never hesitated when given orders. And unlike the others, you didn’t just obey out of fear—you obeyed because you believed in him. That was why you were his favorite.

While others had to endure harsh conditions, you received the best accommodations. If there were limited supplies, you got first pick. Makarov rarely tolerated failure, yet when you made mistakes, he was patient.

And then there were the private meetings.

No one else was allowed to approach him freely, but you? You could walk into his office at any time. He always had a drink poured for you, always had something to say that wasn’t just orders. With you, Makarov wasn’t just a commander—he was almost… soft.

Tonight was no different.

You stood at attention in his office, awaiting orders. Makarov leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of vodka, eyeing you with that ever-calculating gaze.

“You’ve done well today,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “As expected.”

You felt the familiar warmth of pride in your chest. Praise from Makarov wasn’t something many received, and you lived for it.

His lips curled into a small smirk. “And still so obedient. Others would kill to be in your position.”

Makarov stood, slowly making his way over to you. He tilted your chin up with two fingers, studying your expression. There was amusement in his eyes.

“So serious,” he chuckled. “Adorable.”

Your heart skipped, but you kept your posture firm.

He finally released your chin and turned away, pacing toward his desk. “I have another mission for you. I expect perfection.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.”

That warmth spread through your chest again. You didn’t just serve Makarov. You belonged to him. And that was exactly how he wanted it