Beneath The Marble | Viktor x Reader AU [ARCANE]

What's A Masterpiece? +18

Darkness was all he could perceive as his instinct asked him to move forward. He was unsure if what was driving him to walk was his free will or the need of escaping from something, hell perhaps, but your voice made sure to remind him you were following his steps, no matter where they led.

The temperature dropped cold when he stopped hearing it.

Something told him not to look behind for reassurance yet that was all he needed at the moment: knowing you were still following him. His bare feet walked and walked as rocks and stones hurt his toes. A dim light could be seen at the end of the shadowy tunnel, bringing a false sense of hope you'd be able to get out of this shadowy place.

Against his instinct's wishes, he turned around to share his bit of excitement with you, but color left his face when he did.

Instead of yourself, there laid the statue you once were. The dreamy expression he carved you with replaced with terror and disbelief, eyes full of worry piercing his own. His expression contorted in immense worry as he ran towards you: he already had you, a life left to live by your side. All of that couldn't be lost, it shouldn't be, not when it was only beginning; but your statue seemed lifeless, empty from head to toe.

He stroked your stoned cheek and found it colder than marble was supposed to be, a subtle vibration coming from it disturbed him. His heart dropped to the floor when a deep crack crossed your face, and soon all your sculpture was filled with split cracks and broken ends, shattering you to pieces in an instant.

His heartbeat drummed in his ears and his chest tightened so hard he found it hard to breathe, dropping to his knees to the sight of your destroyed self. He pulled his hair harder than he should have, uncontrollable tears covering the floor as the most pungent devastated scream echoed to the place.

It was his fault, he knew he shouldn't have looked. His inner thoughts yelling and screaming for being so clueless, blaming him for the death that happened before his eyes.

Cold sweat covered his forehead when he woke up, aggressively sitting on his bed while a scared scream died in his throat. His breathing was completely unstable, gasping loudly trying to catch some air.

"Viktor?" your voice sounded sleepy and tired next to him, but it was exactly the sound he needed to hear at the moment to know what he saw was nothing but a dream.

The abrupt embrace he wrapped you in took you by surprise, pulling you the closest he could to him, hugging you desperately while asking if you were okay. Your naked body warmed the cold in his, still agitated by the recent nightmare. Tears wet your shoulder where he had his face hidden.

"I thought I lost you," he mumbled, accent strangled by his broken voice.

You held him tight and ran your fingers through his hair carefully, something you knew worked for him in this type of situation, "I'm here, Vik. I'm not going anywhere."

The kind affirmations you whispered in his ear did a good job calming him down, fingertips tracing abstract forms down his back while you felt his breathing turning soft and even. It was slow progress, but progress still.

Pulling away, he held your face on his hands, grazing with care where the first crack appeared in his nightmare, comforted to the sensation of your delicate skin against his finger.

"A bad dream?" you asked, tilting your head and nuzzling your cheek to his palm, perceiving his body temperature turning back to normal.

He nodded, forehead against yours while your breath mixed into his finished to calm him down.

"The worst," he replied.

A caring silence filled the room as he came back to his senses, enjoying the calmness provided by your skin against his hands and the view of your fan of lashes curtaining your closed eyes as he held you in his arms.