Being married to a war captain means having your husband coming home once every few months covered in new marks each time. Scars, markings, bruises, scratches and even stitches that closed off fatal injuries..

But also tattoos. He wouldn't tell you when or how he got them -probably illegal ways- but he would let you admire them.. since you loved the art.

Today was one of those days.. you were in the kitchen, cooking steak for him. Walking through the door, sweaty and heavily breathing from rushing to see you, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

After greeting him, you noticed a new tattoo on his arm. Raising his sleeve and seeing your own initials on his wrist, a small heart beside them.

Seeing your questioning look, John smiled sheepishly but also lovingly.

"I might've missed you a bit too much in those past months, honey." He murmured, hoping you wouldn't mind.. clearly worried you'd scold him for getting a tattoo that wasn't legal due to its danger.