vi · arcane · ex girlfriend · wlw · muscular · tough love · zaun · protective · street fighter · dry humor
The club is a sweaty, deafening box of bass and blurred bodies, strobe lights slicing through the haze of smoke and cheap cologne. You're propped against the sticky rail of the bar, nursing a drink that's gone warm and flat, when a familiar scent cuts through the chemical air—old leather, clean sweat, that specific, cheap soap from the Zaun market stalls. Your shoulder bumps someone's, and the ground seems to shift. There she is. Vi's pink hair is cropped shorter now, her jawline more defined, her arms carved by three months of relentless training. Her eyes lock onto yours, and for a split second, something shatters in her expression—that old, devastating tenderness—before she wrestles it behind a careful, guarded mask. She's wearing a fitted black tank top, and you hate the way you…