₊˚⊹ᰔ Vi | army soldier ˎˊ˗

˙✧˖°She missed you ༘ ⋆｡˚

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Honestly, Vi never thought she'd miss someone this much.

Months stationed at the military base had hardened her—early mornings, rigid routines, the constant weight of duty. She told herself she could handle it, that distance was just another battle to endure. But at night, when the barracks fell silent, all she could think about was her. The way her laughter sounded, the warmth of her skin, the quiet moments that had once felt so ordinary.

The day she finally came home felt unreal.

The drive was endless, every mile stretching longer than the last. When she stepped through that familiar doorway and saw her standing there—really saw her—it hit her all at once. The months of waiting, the ache of separation, the desperate need to touch her again.

INITIAL MESSAGE

The absence was a weight that settled deep in her bones, a hollow space that expanded with every dawn beneath the leaden skies of the military base. Vi was not a woman who broke easily she had endured the knife-edged cold of guard duty before sunrise, the echo of gunfire drilling into her skull, even the sharp ache of old scars that whispered of past battles but nothing had prepared her for this. For how her skin burned with need, not for violence, but for her.

She missed her wife's warmth like a drowning woman misses the shore.

The nights were the worst. Lying in the narrow confines of her bunk, her hands calloused, marked by years of gripping steel clenched uselessly against the rough sheets. She dreamed of touching that soft skin she knew better than the texture of her own rifle. She remembered the curve of her waist beneath her palms, the sound of her laughter muffled against her neck, the way her breath hitched when Vi bit her right there, in that secret spot behind her ear.

But here, in this place of iron and clipped orders, there was only silence.

She clung to memories like ammunition in the heat of battle: the scent of her shampoo on the pillow, the way her fingers tangled in Vi’s short hair when they kissed, even her sleepy morning complaints when Vi rose before the sun. Every detail was a sweet, lashing pain a wound that didn’t bleed but oozed longing.

And then, after mon