Nightmares [2P!Italy|Luciano Vargas]

2P!Italy|Luciano Vargus

Fem!Reader

    “I’m here, Luci, it’s ok,” you cooed, but instead of it soothing the man, you felt something warm running down your neck. Tears?

    “Don’t’a lie,” muttered the Italian weakly in his sleep. “Mi bella is’a dead.”

    Your body went stiff at this, your grip on his hair tightening. Luciano made choking noises, his breathing becoming ragged as he pushed you across the bed.

    “Luciano,” you muttered, gently placing a hand on his arm and shaking him. The man swatted your hand away, grunting a curse in Italian. You furrowed your brows, shaking him again and saying his name louder. When he didn’t wake, you shook him once more, just about shouting his name. You recoiled your hand as he bolted up straight on the bed.

    “Not mi’a bella!” he shouted, reaching out in front of him to strangle an invisible person.

    You hadn’t noticed that you’d let out a little shriek to his actions until he turned to you, those magenta eyes reflecting angrily in the moonlight peeking through the blinds. Luciano adverted his eyes quickly, noticing for the first time that he was trying to murder the person in his dream. Shakily he lowered his arms and gripped the blankets in his fists. It was quiet between you two for a minute - only your nervous shaky breathes, and Luciano’s labored angry breathing to be heard.

    “L – Luci –” you muttered finally.

    “What?” he snapped, not even bothering to look at you. “Why the’a hell did you’a wake me up, ragazza?”

    You slowly sat up, crossing your legs under the blanket as you turned to face your love; swallowing the lump in your throat, you sucked in a breath. “Wh-What are your nightmares about?”

    Luciano visibly flinched, before he glared at you out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t’a have nightmares, idiota,” the Italian grunted.

    You sighed at him, and muttered just loud enough for him to hear, “Tell that to my bruises.”

    Luciano’s head snapped in your direction as he ripped off the blankets and yanked your arm to pull you towards him. 

    “I’a gave you bruises?!” he shouted in your face, his tired eyes glaring at you. 

    Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared into his eyes, your breath coming out in shaky gasps. When you didn’t answer, he looked down at your body. It was hot for mid-June in Italy, so you were sleeping in shorts and a tank top that night. You watched a sickened look pass over his features as he matched up his free hand with the obvious bruises on your thighs. You flinched some as he did, your skin was sensitive with those marks. Luciano retracted his touch quickly and then pushed up your shirt, exposing the patches of bruised skin on your stomach, sides and hips. He reached to match his hand with the prints left there, but recoiled as he felt the warmth radiating off of your skin.

    His eyes flicking back to you, Luciano growled, “Why the’a hell didn't you tell me, idiota?!”

    “Luciano,” you muttered, swallowing the growing lump in your throat. “You’re hurting me.”

    His eyes widened some as he looked down to where his hand was gripping your forearm. Luciano sat back some, shakily removing his hand from your arm. You saw him swallow, staring at the out into the blackness of your room. Slowly you inched closer to him, reaching towards him, but he flinched away from you.

    “Don’t’a touch me,” he muttered, his glare latched to the comforter. You didn’t listen, instead placing your body next to his and gently laying your head on his shoulder. Luciano growled, you could hear it rumbling from deep within his chest. “Do you’a want me to hurt you again?!”

     The man quickly turned to you and shoved you across the mattress. You whimpered loudly as your tail bone hit the floor on your side of the bed; wincing, you sat up. Luciano had never been like this to you, even when he was angry with you - but you knew he didn’t mean to push you so hard. Luciano was scared, he didn’t know how to act, and you could see through his little ‘tough guy’ charade. You knew he was concerned for your well-being. He had hurt you, and you were the only one in his life he protected.

    Your life was before his, always.

    No amount of mob boss badassary would change that, even if he despised the fact that someone could get to him like you did. Luciano was scared and angry with himself; he could lie on the job, but he could never lie to you. Looking at your arm, you found a bruise of Luciano’s hand print already a dark shade on your flesh; you flinched as you ran your fingers over it.

    “I’ve never bruised that fast before,” you noted, turning your arm to see how much was covered with the dark mark.

    “Bella.” Luciano’s voice came from above you and you turned to find the man leaning over your side of the bed, reaching towards you. You flinched away from him, causing you to hit your head on the side table. Luciano had anger etched into his tone, but his eyes were soft and concerned. “Stupida.”

    “Luci,” you breathed softly as he climbed off the bed, scooped you up bridal style and then laid you back on the soft surface. He crawled back in beside you, but as far away from you as he could be. Luciano turned over, his back to you, as he pulled up the blanket again.

    “Goodnight, bella,” he grunted.

    You stared at his back for a few minutes, you had to know what his nightmares were about. He didn’t deserve to suffer them alone. So finally you sighed, scooting closer. Luciano's form went rigid as the bed sank near him; so he was still awake, but there was no surprise there.

    “Luciano, please,” you pleaded, cuddling up to him and draping an arm and a leg over his side. You pressed your forehead between his shoulder blades, giving a kiss to his back, and snuggling into him. “Please tell me about your nightmares, Luci. I don’t want you go through them alone, I love you.”

    “No,” spat Luciano, shoving you again, but gentler this time.

    You sighed, grabbing his hand before he could retract it completely. “Why? – Why do you always tell me ‘no’?”

    Luciano was silent for a moment, his grip suddenly tightening on your hand. “There’s’a no point, now’a leave me alone.” 

    You groaned, finally deciding to tug on his shoulder and turn him over to look at you. “Tell me, damn it!” you demanded, but Luciano narrowed his eyes.

    “I’a told you ‘no’, ragazza! Now go. To. Sleep!” He tried to turn back around, but you stopped him.

    “Luciano Vargas! Tell me about your nightmares! I will not let you sleep until you do!” You glared back at him now, and a deep frown had etched itself into Luciano’s cheeks.

    “Becareful, ragazza, you’re pushing it,” he warned; squeezing his shoulder, you moved closer to him to where he couldn’t move away from you, if he did he would fall off of the bed.

    “Why the hell won’t you tell me?! What are you so afraid of, Lucia – ?!” Before you could blink Luciano had his legs straddling your hips, your back pressed deeply into the bed, and your bruised arms pinned above your head.

    “I’a told you, [Name], you’re pushing it!” he growled, an animalistic tone in his voice.

    “So tell me! I want to help you! Why won’t you let me?!”

    Luciano gripped your wrists tighter, pushing them deeper into the mattress.

    “You don’t’a want to know,” he snapped tiredly, avoiding your gaze.

    “Yes, I do,” you said softly, but Luciano sighed.

    “You’ll'a be afraid of me.” You made a scoffing sound at him, which caused his glare to snap to you. “What?!”

    “I could never be afraid of you, Luci. Ti amo, mi bello uomo,” you murmured, staring up at him. It was Luciano’s turn scoff as he leaned his face close to yours.

    “And what if that was'a you I had woken up strangling, hm?” he whispered, “you can’t'a tell me you wouldn’t be afraid then. How could you'a love me then, bella?”

    “I - I wouldn’t be scared of you. N-Not even then - there’s nothing that could make me not love you,” you whispered, swallowing.

    Luciano narrowed his eyes, his mouth in a had line. “You’re lying.”

    “No I’m not, I swear! I would never lie to you, Luci.” This only pulled a grunt from the man. You two were silent for a moment, before you had the courage to speak again. “Y-You were talking in your sleep, again…you said I was dead – again.”

    Luciano’s eyes widened at this, and you noticed a slight shake in his breath and arms.

    “[Name],” he muttered, but he wasn’t talking to you. He was relapsing into his dream – suffering, re-living, remembering. “Not – not mi’a bella.”

    “Luciano, I’m here,” you muttered, leaning up to kiss him. This seemed to shake him, and his eyes settled into a confused glare.

    The Italian kissed you back harshly, before muttering against your lips, “I have’a dreams – nightmares – that…you’a die. That I – can’t’a control myself anymore, and I – I’a kill you. I watch my’a-self kill you. That’a stupid knife sinking past your ribs, your blood on’a my hands as you scream – and everybody’a stands around, chanting for me to’a kill you…the’a worst part is I’a can’t stop myself.” You stared up at him, looking deeply into those liquid magenta pools. They were soft now, resonating with concern as they coated over your real face with your blood smeared dream one. “Are you scared yet?”

    “Who were you trying to kill when you woke up?” you asked, avoiding Luciano’s question. The Italian sat back, removing his hands from your arms and resting them on your waist to play with your tank top. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you looked up at him expectantly but Luciano hesitated before he spoke.

    “My’a-self,” he whispered, “I – was’a trying to kill myself…before I’a killed you.”

    “Luci,” you gasped softly as you sat up, taking his face into your hands to kiss him. You placed your lips on his firmly, pulling away slightly to mutter, “Oh, my Luciano.”

    Luciano kissed you back roughly, one hand entangling itself into your hair and the other pulling your body to his by your waist.

    “Ti amo, mi bella,” Luciano spoke quietly against your lips, and then began to pepper you with kisses. “Ti amo, Ti amo, Ti amo, mi bella! Mi dispiace tanto. Ti amo da impazzire!”

    Luciano gently you to the mattress again, his lips trailing down your neck. He was being cautious, you could feel it in his movements.

    “I trust you, Luciano,” you muttered reassuringly, “I know you’d never hurt me.”

    To this, Luciano pulled away and placed a hand on your cheek. “But I don’t’a trust me, bella.”

    “Luciano, I would never have stayed with you this long if I had any doubts about yourself control. I know you, and I trust you.”

    Luciano pulled you up and hugged you tightly to his body. When you gripped onto him tightly, his lips moved to your ear, where he whispered, “I’a hope, for the sake of’a your life and’a my sanity, that you’a made the right decision when you’a agreed to marry me, [Name].”