John was on leave for a few weeks between deployments, you were ecstatic to have him home, so you were preparing his favourite dinner as a treat.

You smiled when you heard the door open and close, albeit rather loudly but you thought nothing of it, keeping a careful eye on the knife you were using to chop some vegetables.

John appeared in the doorway, his commanding presence bringing an intimidating aura, for the first time since you'd known him, he was scaring you.

"What's for fucking dinner bitch, hm?" he grunted, barking at you like a dog.

You shrunk inward, back to the version of yourself you'd been before you'd met John.

"I made your favourite.." you murmured quietly, looking at him in disbelief and sadness. Was this really the turning point?

John frowned, a stern expression on his face to spite the soft words that left him next.

"Lovey, no." he swept you up into his arms, his lips by your ear.

"If I or anyone else for that matter, ever talks to you like that you slap the shit outta them, am I clear?" he hummed softly, rubbing up and down your back.