#Luca Changretta x fanfic
Text
My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars-Part 1
Luca Changretta x OC (Aurora Sabini Changretta)
Summary: Luca and Aurora Changretta come to the UK to avenge the murder of Luca's brother and father. However, as their volatile marriage unravels, events take an unexpected turn.
Author's Note: This has been on my mind since I created the moodboard ages ago. And it's been requested in several forms, the most recent being a lovely anon who wanted to see Tommy with an American mafia girl. OC Rose Solomons belongs to @raincoffeeandfandoms. Prequel has been posted as phone calls in two parts here and here. I would def recommend reading that before starting this fic! One more part coming soon!
Warnings: language, domestic violence, mention of blood, use of ethnic slur
☀️🌙✨MASTERLIST
Luca stood pointing at a map with his forefinger, tracing a path from the garden to the center of Arrow House, mumbling in a low voice to his men. Thunder rumbled overhead as Aurora made her way into the room, unnoticed by everyone, skirting the perimeter of the room as she listened carefully. When she’d heard enough she spoke up from the back of the room, voice even and measured to show she was in control as much as her husband. “Non sono d’accordo, Luca.”
Luca’s head shot up as he searched between the faces to find his wife, though he thought he’d caught a hint of her perfume moments earlier, taunting him as he attempted to strategize.
“It’s too risky to approach him at home again,” Aurora declared, stalking toward the desk with cigarette in hand. The smoke parted the men before her arrival at the table and she stamped out her cigarette a bit too forcefully before joining her husband where he stood. Although she hadn’t been invited to give her opinion, she’d been listening to every word, silently judging the ludicrous plan Luca was suggesting.
“Don’t you remember what the intelligence said about his family? They’re gypsies, fucking savages,” she emphasized. “And he’ll be expecting us this time so he'll have even more protection,” Aurora said with a dismissive shake of her head. Luca’s face and neck reddened at the scolding tone of her voice, his blood boiling instantly at the brazen way she dared to usurp his power.
The air grew thick with their silence and as Aurora’s eyes scanned the room, she noticed not one of the men looked in her direction. They shifted uncomfortably as Luca reached for a matchstick, placing it between gritted teeth.
A low growl emitted before his words, causing everyone to stand at attention once more. “And what would you have me do, tesoro?” he said the pet name without any hint of warmth, but Aurora did not back away. In fact, she stepped closer to her husband, standing just below his shoulder as she placed a hand to his forearm gently.
“I’m only asking that we consider a few more options,” she said diplomatically. Then she reasoned, “There must be another way to get to Tommy Shelby. His sister’s home in London or perhaps one of his factories. We’ll have to wait for him to come to us this time.”
Luca removed the match from his mouth as she spoke, lighting it and held it perilously close to her face as he taunted, “We smoke him out, principessa? Is that what you want?” he asked moving even closer, the flame in danger of catching her loose curls on fire.
Aurora didn’t blink as she watched the flame dance before her eyes. She could feel the heat close to her skin and her pulse quickened. “Basta cosi!,” she warned with raised eyebrow.
As lightning flashed outside the office window the spell was broken, Luca blew out the match with a dark chuckle. Turning to his men he concluded with a wave of his hand, “You heard my wife.” Then rolling up the map before him with haste he added, “We’ll pick this up tomorrow when everyone’s rested.” Everyone filed out, but Matteo and Enzo remained to ensure nothing else was needed for the evening. Aurora remained at the window as Luca instructed, “Seven o’ clock sharp, you understand?”
“Yes, boss,” Matteo and Enzo replied, trudging toward their rooms. It was only their second night in England and they had not yet acclimated to the time difference. They felt the exhaustion seeping into their bones, the relentless demands weighing on them heavily.
Before they could move more than a few steps down the corridor, they heard the shouting begin. As the sound of glass shattering broke the crescendo of voices, Matteo ran a hand down his face, a hint of irritation as he sighed heavily. “Do you have the number for the hospital?” he asked his associate.
Enzo nodded slowly. “And the morgue,” he added solemnly, eyes lingering on the doorknob. He didn’t want to listen to the distinct sounds of Luca’s blows striking the object of his ire or Aurora’s muffled cries, but he would have to stand watch until it was over to know how to proceed.
Luca tired easily tonight and Aurora limped from the suite thirty minutes later, hair disheveled to hide the bruise forming across her cheekbone. She fell once, picking herself up from the hard wooden floor with a sniffle and Matteo and Enzo turned from her as though they hadn’t seen her in ruin, a familiar routine of make believe.
“Let’s get some fucking sleep,” Matteo said when she disappeared into a separate room.
Enzo had just closed the door to his room and kicked off his shoes when the phone began to ring.
“Enzo, what’s going on? Luca hasn’t phoned,” Mr. Sabini grumbled.
“Luca’s been…working on strategy,” Enzo fumbled, thinking of the fight he’d just witnessed. He didn’t dare mention it to Aurora’s father though. Out of everyone who knew of their tumultuous marriage, Antonio Sabini was somehow unaware of his daughter’s plight.
As if on cue, Antonio asked, “How’s Aurora?”
Enzo gulped as he thought of a reply. “You know, she’s got her ideas,” he said truthfully.
“That’s my little girl!,” Antonio answered proudly. "She's got a sharp mind and she's good under pressure!" he boasted. "Mark my words, Enzo, this vendetta will end as quickly as it started now that Luca has my Aurora by his side. She won't lose any of our men either because she's much more delicate than he is with these affairs you see. Luca's always been too temperamental," he mused.
"Yeah," Enzo agreed quietly, hoping Mr. Sabini was right.
“Keep me informed. I want to know everything,” Antonio said sternly. “And keep Aurora out of danger if it comes to that.”
“Yes, sir,” Enzo reluctantly agreed, unsure how he was going to keep the promise.
“And Enzo, buy her blue hydrangeas tomorrow,” Antonio ordered. “They’re her favorite. I don’t want her feeling homesick,” he added softly, the fondness of a memory seeping into his voice and making it much quieter than before.
“Of course,” Enzo said, replacing the heavy receiver in the cradle and falling into bed, only to be awoken an hour later by the sounds of lovemaking in the room next door.
—————————————-
At seven the next morning, Aurora entered Luca’s office, smiling to herself as she held a large bouquet in her arms. All the men in the room turned to drink in the sight of her glamour, a trait that lived on in her from her exceptionally beautiful mother. Enzo and Matteo exchanged knowing glances as they traced the lines of her face, noting how talented she’d become at hiding the swelling and bruises.
Although it sickened them to watch, she bent low to capture Luca’s mouth in a tender kiss, pulling away to breath a near silent “mi dispiace” against his lips. For reasons known only to her and Luca, they always fell back into each other’s arms. It was as predictable as the rising sun.
“I know you are, baby,” he replied, turning her out of his lap.
“Grazie, amore,” she said sweetly holding up the flowers and stroking his cheek adoringly.
Luca knitted his brow, a hint of confusion noticeable, before he glanced up at his wife with a smug grin. “Of course, sweetheart. If you’ll excuse us, there’s business this morning and I think you had your say last night.”
Aurora nodded obediently and went to put the flowers in water as though in a trance. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Luca’s expression changed to a deep grimace. “Which one of you assholes got flowers for my wife?” He leaned forward onto his elbows, awaiting an answer.
Soon Enzo spoke up with a slight tremble in his voice. “It was me, but it wasn’t because of last night, Luca.”
Luca narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck did you say to me?”
“Her father asked me to get ‘em,” Enzo clarified with a slight cough, suddenly remembering his lines in the play they were subconsciously rehearsing at any given moment.
“Figlio di puttana!” Luca said, smacking the desk with his palm. “He spoiled her and now look how she acts!” He shook his head with an indignant scoff, turning to look out the window. “Thank God she married a man like me to keep her in her place, right?”
———————————————
“We aren’t in Darby’s territory any more. Where are we going, Luca?,” Aurora asked as the car bumped along the narrow roads. Luca turned to look out the window as though he didn’t hear, second guessing his decision to bring his wife along to the negotiations with the mad baker of Camden Town. However, Aurora would not be ignored. She had played the dutiful wife for weeks so as not to insult his manhood further, but every attempt at moving closer to Tommy Shelby had failed, resulting in multiple casualties. To make matters worse, every man lost was a member of her own family, brought from New York to aid the Changrettas in their vendetta. The idea of losing more men sickened her and she began to consider the possibility that she would have to challenge her husband once more.
Then Luca spoke up, but he only offered a sliver of information. “We’re on our way to Camden Town, alright?” he said before settling back into his seat with a sigh.
Aurora was raised at her father’s elbow watching the deals he made and how he researched his enemies. However, there were things she’d learned on her own as a result of being the only woman in a room full of men. How you had to demure and make them think an idea had been their own. She’d learned the art of manipulation and weaponized it early on as a means of survival. Today called for such an approach.
“An alliance with the Jews? That’s clever,” she praised, hoping her guess was correct. Running a hand along his knee seductively, she waited for Luca to confirm her suspicions.
Luca turned to face his wife, a surprised look on his face. “And how do you know about Alfie Solomons?”
“He’s connected to the east Boston Jews. But, Darby knows him, of course. Says he’s unpredictable and violent,” Aurora added wearily.
She watched the muscles in Luca’s jaw tighten beneath the shadow of his fedora, knowing he didn’t like Aurora involving herself. Rubbing two fingers against his chin thoughtfully, he dismissed her concern. “I’ve spoken to your father and he approves. That’s all you need to know,” Luca said firmly.
“I wish you would tell me more about today,” she cajoled.
“No, amore. Not this time,” Luca said, clasping his large fingers over her gloved hand and giving her a squeeze that bordered on painful reprimand.
As the car jerked to a stop in front of a dilapidated building in Camden Town, she turned to her husband and took once last desperate chance as they exited the vehicle. “Luca, let me speak to Mr. Solomons. A woman’s touch to the negotiations might be just the thing to keep him from erupting,” she said innocently.
This infuriated Luca and he pulled her back, making her stumble on the rough cobblestones. “Like hell you will. This is my deal!” he spat.
“That concerns my family name and my blood!” Aurora retaliated, batting at his chest with her fists, unable to control herself further.
Luca’s eyes blazed with fury, striking her with full force and causing her to fall to the ground. Landing on rough stone, she sliced her arm as she hit, immaculate clothing ruined in the filthy street.
“Get the fuck up,” Luca commanded through clenched teeth.
Aurora winced involuntarily as she pushed her body forward, feeling the pain in her arm throb as soon as he placed weight onto her hand and blood trickle from her nose. “Vaffanculo!” she yelled, placing her fingertips to her chin and thrusting them toward him.
Luca leaned down and dragged her to her feet, fingers digging into her flesh as he swore, "You make any more trouble for me and I swear to God you'll die here, Aurora. No one will know the difference if I tell them the Shelbys did it," he hissed in her ear as a small woman with dark hair appeared before them.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked, looking the couple up and down, hands on her hips with more authority than someone her size ought to have.
Luca released his wife immediately, straightening her clothes as he painted on a charming smile. “She fell on the cobblestones,” he explained smoothly. “I’m here to see Alfie Solomons. Is he in?” he inquired as he stepped forward, seeming to forget his wife in distress.
“Depends on whose asking,” the woman replied, glancing at Aurora with concern.
Luca removed his hat as he introduced himself. “I’m Luca Changretta,” he said, extending a hand.
Thoroughly unimpressed by his charisma, the tiny woman tilted her head at him. “And who is she?”
Luca coughed to cover his embarrassment. “This is my wife, Aurora. She’ll be staying outside,” he said with a pointed look at his wife, who stood, cradling her arm.
“If you want to see my husband, I insist this woman come in as well. She requires medical attention,” Rose said sternly.
“If you insist,” Luca said, pursing his lips.
“I insist,” the woman said with a definitive nod. “I’m Rose Solomons, Alfie’s wife. Come in,” she said with a wave of her hand.
“Darling,” Luca said with a sneer, extending his arm toward Aurora.
Aurora pushed past him and followed Rose inside. Luca followed two steps behind, removing a match from his pocket and chewing it ferociously. He didn’t like being humiliated by the Solomons woman and made a mental note to make Alfie pay dearly for it.
As Luca was shown to Alfie’s office, Rose took Aurora to a separate part of the distillery. Her interest was peaked now that she’d witnessed something between husband and wife that felt unsavory. The Solomons’ liked to make it their business to know everything about their associates and this felt like something worth noting.
———————
Rose expected someone quite different from the woman she was meeting today. She’d heard Aurora Changretta was a tigress, someone who never gave an inch to her enemies. However, the woman who stood before her bloodied and broken was not in a position to argue. She might listen to the plea on Rose’s lips so she began in earnest.
As Rose handed over a flannel dipped in cool water, she admitted what she wanted. “I’ll be blunt, Mrs. Changretta. My Alfie has cancer. He’s riddled with it. The doctors say it’s probably from the gas during the war,” she explained with furrowed brow as though she didn’t understand or believe the words that came from her lips. However, Aurora knew them to be true. They were the admission of someone who loved deeply and had not yet come to terms with an imminent loss.
“I’m sorry,” Aurora responded. “But I don’t see how I can help,” she admitted.
Rose cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, rising to her full height. “You can get that man out there to go home. Leave us in peace for the days we have left,” she asserted.
Aurora bit her lip to keep a bitter laugh from escaping. Instead she just shook her head. Taking a deep breath she turned to Rose and spoke slowly to make the other woman realize her predicament. “You think I tell him the ways of the world? No, he doesn’t answer to me,” she admitted, dabbing at her wounds. “He has very little use for me these days,” Aurora admitted in a soft whisper.
"I thought your family ran New York?" Rose asked slightly confused.
"And now it's my husband so you see we're bound," Aurora replied with a look of resolve.
Rose took in the sight before her, bruises covered by layers of make up, bones badly healed over time. The limp when she walked inside and the arm she cradled gingerly now. This was a woman who knew suffering and yet there was tenacity in her hazel eyes that couldn't be denied. It was this strength Rose appealed to now.
“You’d die by his hand? Because that’s where you’re headed, love,” Rose warned, recalling her own difficult past. “Won’t you try?”
Aurora paused for a moment, a trickle of bloody water running down her elbow as she washed. This went against everything Aurora had ever been taught. You never spoke against your family, no matter what happened. Her parents ingrained that in her at an early age. However, her parents’ marriage had been one based on love and respect. No matter how many times they reconciled, she and Luca did not carry the same affection.
As she sat in the damp distillery, listening to the distant sound of machinery, she thought of her future with Luca and his intention to crush her beneath him became abundantly clear. He didn’t care for her as he once did. When the money and the resources were gone, he would dispose of her.
Finally Aurora mumbled one word into the darkness of the small room, keeping her voice low in case Luca was nearby. “How?”
Rose inhaled a sharp breath, chin rising suddenly with renewed hope to meet Aurora’s wide eyes, full of questions and doubt. She knew how hard it would be to ask this of kind of trust from a stranger, but if she could convince her to take the first step, the rest would fall into place.
“We get you to Tommy Shelby,” Rose said confidently.
Aurora shook her head violently. “No, please. He’ll kill me.”
“He won’t. He’s not Luca,” Rose promised, rushing the rest of her speech for fear Aurora might bolt in fear. “This vendetta was started by the Changrettas and your husband is using your family to fund his war. Now he’s asking my husband to help. It won’t stop unless we say so. We can stop him, Aurora. Will you join me?” Rose asked, reaching for Aurora’s bloodied hand.
Aurora’s lip trembled thinking of crossing Luca, but she had had enough. If there was one thing her father taught her it was to fight for her own interests and she knew she still had fight within her.
“Yes, I’ll help you,” Aurora agreed on a shaky breath, reaching for Rose.
“We’ll protect you, I promise,” Rose said, intertwining her fingers with Aurora’s stained fingertips. The blood that tainted her would soon be washed clean.
————————————
It had taken another week and several clandestine phone calls before Aurora could steal away to meet Rose. She’d convinced Luca that she needed medicine for her cuts and he allowed her to leave the hotel though she knew she didn’t have long. Rose knew a man who could help them meet in neutral territory, but it would be brief as Luca sent someone to watch over Aurora whenever she left. With that in mind, Aurora stole away one afternoon wondering if this was all a mistake.
The bell above the door of the chemist rang out and Aurora took a deep breath, scanning the small shop for Rose. The tiny woman stood in the corner, observing a box as though she were another patron and when she spied Aurora she beckoned to her. Aurora felt her heart thundering in her chest as she followed Rose through a narrow doorway, descending a dark staircase. However, it was far too late to reconsider and she marched ahead with as much courage as she could muster.
Aurora soon found herself face to face with Tommy Shelby who paced the length of a small, dimly lit room. She knew him instantly from photographs and descriptions of his deep blue eyes like two pools that could drown you if you stared too long. The moment she entered, she was mesmerized by him.
“You killed my wife,” Tommy said, a stillness coming over his features when he caught sight of his enemy. Aurora sucked in a breath, recognizing the inherent danger facing her. Violent men all had the same deceiving comportment, a snake coiled and ready to strike.
“Tommy, please....” Rose interjected in a pleading tone, willing the meeting to continue. Rose glanced at Aurora and noticed a visible change in her demeanor, a hardening of her exterior as she refused to show any kind of weakness.
“Luca killed your wife. I only tried to kill you,” Aurora said defiantly, head held high.
A moment of silence passed as Tommy considered Aurora. Then she spoke again, "You misunderstand, Mr. Shelby. I'm trying to end this. It was never my fight," she said softly, feeling the weight of every life lost in service to her and the family.
“If this wasn’t your fight, why the fuck are you supplying your husband enough money and soldiers to overthrow the British empire, love?” Tommy countered.
“Loyalty. I hear that you’re like me when it comes to your family, Mr. Shelby. You would do anything to protect them. I didn’t agree with my husband, but I promised to protect him….”
“Do you honestly think he’d do the same for you?,” Tommy asked, blue eyes icing over to match the chill in his voice. He knew he was being cruel, but he had to test her in this moment to see if she would crumble.
“I have no illusions about our marriage,” Aurora confided on a low breath. She forced herself to make eye contact as she said, “That's why I'm here. Rose told me you might be willing to strike a bargain.”
Tommy scoffed, turning away from Aurora and she worried what she’d been told about his mercy was false.
“Fucking hell, Tommy. She’s here and she’s willing to talk. Isn’t that enough?” Rose asked.
Tommy turned with a look of warning, “Alright, give him up.”
“What?” Aurora asked.
“Give up your husband and we’ll call it even,” Tommy demanded.
Aurora swallowed harshly, considering the choices at her disposal. Stay and see more bloodshed or end it with one final betrayal. It took only a fraction of a second to see the choice she had to make.
“An ambush,” Aurora agreed quietly, fixing her gaze on Tommy. “But we have to make Luca think you aren’t expecting him. That he can take the shot.”
A smug look came over Tommy's handsome face. "You are as ruthless as they say, aren't you?" he commented. Then just as suddenly the amusement in his features disappeared and he turned stone faced once more. “How do I know I can trust you?” Tommy asked.
Aurora began to laugh bitterly.
“That’s fucking funny to you?” Tommy asked.
Aurora shook her head as a tear fell from her cheek, the enormity of her decision causing her to fall into a momentary fit of insanity. “He married me and he saw cashmere, cologne, red racing cars…All I wanted was love. It wasn't supposed to be like this,” she sniffed as she looked away from him, trying to catch her breath and regain composure. She pushed the pain away and felt her anger rise up in its place, “I just want out, you understand? I want out from under him," she confided, her whole body beginning to shake.
Rose approached her and covered her with her shawl. “It’s alright, Aurora. You’re going to be alright,” she promised, looking to Tommy.
“Artillery Square, two days time,” he said with a satisfactory nod.
------------------------------
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#Peaky Blinders fanfic#Peaky Blinders imagine#Tommy Shelby#Luca Changretta#Luca Changretta x OC#Tommy Shelby x OC#Luca Changretta x fanfic#Luca Changretta imagine#Tommy Shelby fanfic#Tommy Shelby imagine
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Little Lamb PT2
Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader
Summary: Maybe Luca wasnt the butcher, maybe he was the savour
Warnings: I saw the request from @birdyman-momon at 11:54 p.m., and by 12:33, it had been written and formatted! So I hope it is good and that you enjoy it! For some strange reason, the inspiration hit, and I couldn't not write it! (I am publishing this before I have the opportunity to talk myself out of it!)
Part 1: Little Lamb
Masterlist
If someone had told you three years ago on your wedding day what your future held for you, you would have scoffed at them. There was no way that being married off to Luca Changretta would be a good thing for you. No, you would have laughed and said that your family had signed you off to a life of mystery. You would have told them that your family had thrown you to the wolves. That you were a Lamb sent to slaughter.
But no, you would be wrong. Getting married to Luca Changretta would be one of the best things that had ever happened to you. On your wedding night, Luca never even touched you. The closest he ever got was to drape his jacket around your shoulders.
He never forced you to do anything that you were comfortable with. He let you lead at your own pace. Doing things how you wanted to do them.
The day after your wedding, he took you on a date. Showering you with gifts and his attention.
As if he could sense your apprehension, he did nothing to make you uncomfortable. You could tell that he wanted to return home to New York, but he did not pressure you to do so.
So when, 6 months after being married, you told him that you wanted to go home to New York with him, his face practically split in half from the grin.
His accent was thick as he told you about all the things that he wanted to do with you and all the places that he wanted to show you. You could feel his excitement catching on, and soon, you could feel yourself smiling along with him.
And well, going to New York would be something that you would never regret. The moment the ship left the harbour, you felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulder. You were no longer a Shelby. You were a Changretta, and you knew that Luca would never make you do anything you didn't want to do. He would never do to you what your family had done to you.
So when he carried you over the threshold of your new home, you gave yourself up to him in the most primal way. Bearing your body and soul for him. You let him see all the ugly bits and all the beautiful bits, and never once did he flinch.
Life only got better from there. You settled into life in New York. Surrounded by people who loved and appreciated you. The air and the atmosphere suited you far better than the coal-infested air of Birmingham. A place you vowed never to return to as you cut off all contact with your family. While they had given you Luca, they had thrown you to the wolves, knowing that you could be ripped apart.
Life only continued up from there, with you and Luca renewing your vows on the third anniversary of your wedding. So you could both properly celebrate your union, surrounded by happiness and the people that you loved.
Right then, on that day surrounded by a family that loved you, you would have told anybody willing to listen that it was the best day of your life, that there was no way it could get better.
Whilst you may have been right. You were also wrong. As life had much more happened in store for you. Surrounded by your husband and his family. But most importantly. Surround with the love of your husband.
Tag list: @birdyman-momon @miojodetomatin @siriuslyblackonback
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Animal - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.
It's here, besties! :D Hope you like it!
Words - 2,380
Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!
“I want you, Luca. I want you in every single way a woman can enjoy a man. I want your mouth all over me, your hands to touch every last inch of my flesh, to paint your pleasure across me like I’m a canvas, until every colour in the palette runs into the next. I want you to fuck me until I’ve no voice left, until I’m trembling and gasping for breath, until I’m begging you to stop, but pleading with you to keep going all at once.
I want you to be rough with me, wrap my hair around your fist, fuck me brutally from behind until I gush all over your beautiful, perfect big cock. I want you to turn me over and fucking choke me on it, fuck my mouth until I gag and spit on it, making it wetter before you tell me that I’m you’re dirty little puttana and you love me for it. You know I’ll swallow every goddamned drop when you finally come for me, too.
In short, my darling, I want the kind of sex that would make half the barbarity in the Old Testament look tame. Hurry, lover. I miss you.”
The note fluttered from his grasp, a wide-eyed and very, very hard Luca lost to a sexual daze, the near ever-present toothpick in his mouth dangling from his lower lip. “Is this broad for fuckin’ real?” he whispered, wondering how in the fuck he was even meant to stand up after reading that, let alone put one foot in front of the other and then drive a car without crashing it.
Not only had you told him how heavily your want was stirred for him, you’d told him in the dirtiest, yet most poetic way he’d ever had a message conveyed to him. He isn’t sure he wouldn’t have suffered a heart attack, had you actually whispered those words in person.
He can, however, muster the strength to rise and, with trousers entirely too tight due to the colossal erection your words have left him with, walk somewhat awkwardly to the telephone.
“Is that my insatiable Italian?
“You’d be real embarrassed if it was your mother calling you right now, huh?” he drawls, rolling his toothpick over his lower lip with this tongue.
“But it isn’t, so I’m safe,” you chuckle, “So, how can I help you? I take it you found my reading material?”
“I did,” he confirms, “and how you can help me is getting over here right fuckin’ now. I’ll send a driver.” He hangs up before you can confirm your presence, knowing that just by the sultry tone of his voice, he’s tightly wound, and a tightly wound Luca is never worth missing out on.
After all, watching him unravel is half the fun of doing the tight winding in the first place.
Upon your arrival, you find him reclined on the sofa, long, lean legs spread, a hand rested to his thigh, index finger pointing very deliberately at the giver of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever received.
“You called?”
“And you wrote, didn’t you?” he smirks, looking you up and down. Oh, you’re in trouble now, the absinthe green glint of his eyes conveying a weight that should topple your nerves, yet it only serves to electrify. “Yeah, doll. I’m only surprised the paper didn’t fuckin’ catch fire.”
Lifting your chin, your grin is all self-satisfied accomplishment, knowing that you've stirred the beast in him. It only ever prowls just below the surface, though, awakened at a moment's notice. “So, now I’m here?”
He rises from the sofa, sauntering to you while reaching into his pocket, the press of his thumb releasing the long, sharp blade, the flick knife brandished. “Now the fun begins, baby.” Reaching you, his hand grasps your jaw, fingertips indenting your flesh, the precursor to a slow, sumptuous glide over your anticipation-riddled skin. Clutching your dress, he brings the knife up, slicing into the fabric, his hands grasping to literally tear it open.
The sound runs sharp beneath your skin, sends flint strikes through your blood, the cold of the blade dragged into your cleavage before he cuts your bra from you, your undies next on the path of destruction. Stepping from your shoes, the floorboards beneath your feet feel cool in contrast to the inferno of his stare, Luca casting the knife aside, his long arms snaking around you as he puckers a searing kiss to your sternum, descending slowly as he drops down to kneel before you.
“La mia dea,” he whispers, pressing a kiss upon your pubic mound, hands smoothing down deftly over every rise and fall of your body. “You should know you’re the only woman in the world I’d gladly fall to my knees for.” Lifting your thigh to rest over his shoulder, he runs his tongue up it in a in a languid glide, teeth closing in a sharp bite. “But that don’t mean I’ll fuckin’ go easy on you, though.”
You’d expect nothing less.
Letting the heat of his breath flutter over your sex, he teases you with the promise, tongue touching his top lip momentarily as he leaves you teetering on anticipation. He strikes like a viper, mouth wrapping around your slit and sucking with a hungry grunt, knocking the breath from your lungs. His hands glide down your back, resting on your bum, squeezing the rounded orbs in his big hands as the flat of his tongue seeks the pearl of your clit, beginning to work in a side-to-side beat.
The fever he evokes rises like a summer storm, a swirling tempest of wet dragging against you, his piercing, green stare defying you to look away as your mouth drops open, a shrill cry shattering the silence of the room. Your hands move, one reaching to grip his arm, the other sliding into the silken raven of his hair, grasping, tugging hard as your hips begin to weave against the relentless beat of a very hot, very eager tongue.
He has you clasped hard, but balanced upon one leg you feel precarious already, teetering, the pleasure beginning to throb strongly through your core, a grunting rumble from your lover causing a fierce prickle to jab against your insides. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted, getting to feel this pretty little cunt drip all over my tongue.”
His hands continue to knead at you as his tongue drags down, pushing against your streaming little hole, the hook of his nose rubbing over your clit as he tongue fucks you with aplomb. A hail of pain meets your skin deliciously when he releases his grasp, hitting the round of your bum with a spank so hard, your eyes water. Another and he has you mewling, a third and you’re crying out in rapture, the honey of your cunt flooding his mouth, Luca licking your slow and firm back to your clit, wrapping the throbbing little bud in a hard, unrelenting suck.
Your stance falters, and his hands clench at you, arms tensing as he keeps you upright. He might be skinny and lithe, but lord, he’s deceptively strong. He pulls you against the ferocity of his mouth further, tongue working you harder, meeting your gaze with a wink that sets the sparks in your belly to burn.
The heat of his mouth suffuses through to your very marrow, builds rapidly like a supernova, the black holes of his inked pupils devouring the lush green as he watches you falling apart for him, being remade around the rapid, carnal beat of his tongue. The sensation of it sends tiny arrows darting through you, a mist of heat radiating your spine as you pant, your clutch within his hair and upon his arm tightening as you rock against each lick.
“Fuck, Luca!” The words are torn jagged from your throat, chest heaving as it hits you in ceaseless waves. He groans as you trickle into his mouth, drinking the undoing from you as you cry out, every colour illuminating, throwing your head back and submitting to the never-ending inferno darting over your nerves.
He releases your leg, letting your foot return to the floor, but holds you tight in his grasp, tongue gentling before kissing his way back up your shuddering body as he rises, the taste of your orgasm on his lips making your insides quake. You reach for his waistcoat, nimble fingers hurried in your quest for his nakedness, tie and shirt following, your diligence having him bare before you speedily.
He presses a kiss to your neck, looking down at you with a mix of triumph and amusement. “Can you walk?”
“Probably not,” you confess, watching his eyebrow flutter.
“Fine,” he rumbles, making a circular motion with his long, outstretched forefinger. “Turn around and bend over.” You do as you’re instructed, anticipation ghosting your skin as you feel the heat of him behind you, Luca taking his cock and dragging it in tease over your slippery folds.
Sliding the head down to stroke over your clit, the lust tumbles through him wildly at watching your little hole spasm, pushing into you just enough to widen you, pulling out again and returning his cock to push against your bud.
He did say he wouldn’t go easy on you.
“Please, Luca,” you gasp, feeling him inch in again, no mercy given, leaving you empty once more. His hand weaves into your hair, an olive skinned, tattooed, gold adorned grasp clenching tight, pulling you flush against his chest.
“You said that you wanted me to paint my pleasure across you like you’re a canvas, but baby doll, you know better than anyone I don’t paint within the lines.” His free hand slides up your body, grasping your breast, rolling your nipple in a tight crush between his thumb and forefinger. “Beg me.”
“But...”
“Ah, ah, cara mia,” he reprimands, yanking your hair so hard, the pain sears across your scalp. “Beg.”
“Please, Luca.” Swallowing hard, your nerves buzz at the sensation of his cock sliding back and forth over your clit, keening to feel it fill your gaping hole. “Please fuck me. Please feed me every inch of that gorgeous, big cock. I need it. I need you. Please. I’m begging you.”
He pushes forth once more, a few more inches stretching you out, his cock twitching against your walls before he leaves you bereft once more. “Beg again.”
“Luca, I...”
His hand meets your bum in a ferociously hard slap. “I said beg. Again.”
Fire roars over the frost spiking at every nerve ending in your body, swallowing hard, your teeth crushing a bite upon your lower lip. “I’m begging for your cock, Luca. Please fuck me.”
Again, he sinks back in, but this time you are blessed with every last thick, delicious inch, your walls stroked by hot, veiny hardness, the grasp within your hair released. His hands come to rest upon your hips, pulling back from you, until only the head of him remains. He lets you clench upon him, teasing you wickedly, forcing a primal groan when he fills you again with a sharp thrust.
You expect him to continue in torture, but instead he gives you deliciously teasing alternation, pounding your heat rapidly one minute to slow right down the next. The thick head of his cock drags your wet plush slowly, so very, very slowly, sparks crackling, your heart thundering, his groans making your insides pulse with desire.
It’s so good and he’s so thick and hot within you that you practically sob with pleasure, slow, slow, quick, quicker, slow, agonisingly slow, so quick you feel he’s going to go through you and then back to slow again, until he has you shivering violently before him. He roots himself deep into you, pausing, feeling you flex on him with greed, spanking your already stinging backside before slowly dragging back again, the friction delicious.
He’s iron hard within your molten core, his tease giving way to speed and piledriving your slick with lethal intent, ferociously aroused. Your skin smacks together, his grunts peppering the air, drowning out the soft little cries you emit in response to this, a full-on attack to your insides. You feel as if your legs are about to give way, the timing perfect when he slips out, turning your body to throw you over his shoulder with ease, matching you to the bedroom.
You’re tossed onto the bed like a ragdoll, Luca grasping your ankles and hauling you across the mattress, plunging back into you while holding your legs high and wide, giving you not a single drop of mercy from the carnal, animalistic onslaught he delivers.
Each speedily delivered thrust has you sparking, your walls clenching around the thick heat driving into you rapaciously, his cock pumping your release into you strongly, the waves beautiful as his lightning cracks your sky, your hands gripping the bedclothes beneath. He lets you cool down, slowing within you, enjoying the way your slick muscles feel as they flutter around him.
It takes no time at all for the pace to be set to feral once more, holding your legs against his chest as he licks a circle at your ankle, marking the area he then brands with his teeth, virtually growling with incandescent arousal. His stare is broken by his eyes closing tightly, a string of swears gritted, pulling from your soaking cunt, hauling your shattered body to the edge of the bed.
“Open your fuckin’ mouth.” You do, his cock sliding between your lips, hand fisting tight into your hair and holding the back of your head firmly, hips beginning to pump against your face. “Yeah, that’s it, my dirty little puttana. Fuck, I love you.”
He fucks your mouth like he doesn’t, hard, accerbic with you, making you practically choke on his cock until with a deep, guttural groan, he’s spilling into your throat, hot white swallowed down, just as you told him you would.
“Mmmm,” you purr, after releasing his twitching cock, licking your way up to his neck, the black cross the focal point of your teeth. “If that’s what I get, I’m going to have to write to you more often.”
#luca changretta#luca changretta fanfiction#luca changretta smut#luca changretta x reader#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders smut#luca changretta x you#luca changretta fanfic#luca changretta fic#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fic#adrien brody
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my request would be literally anything with luca changretta x shelby sister that pairing in this fandom is so my guilty pleasure love your writing so so much, whether you make it into a drabble, hcs or a mini fic i would be happy — gotta love that forbidden enemy lovin 😋
Too old for this - Luca Changretta x F!reader
summary: Keeping secrets, lying to your family, sneaking out...All to see a man, god, what are you? Seventeen again?
OR three times you snuck out to see Luca, and one time he snuck out to see you.
Warnings: Peaky-typical swearing, very minor violence, this is just romantic-comedy-themed fluff,
A/N: Special thanks (and a big fuck you) to @red-riding-wood, next time we race in writing we're making rules.
Aaaaaaanyways, So Sorry this took so long anon! This writing slump was horrible. I really hope you'll enjoy this silly thing!
tag list (yay i have one finally!): @red-riding-wood @peakyswritings
This was stupid. This was so dumb.
Coat hung loosely around your shoulders, shoes in your hands as if to not make more noise than necessary, you snuck through the Small Heath Shelby house corridors. Almost cartoonishly so, when your frame passed one of the occupied rooms. If you had to guess, the last time you did that was years ago, when you were just a teenage girl with overprotective brothers, now you're an adult, rough-around-the-edges woman...with the same overprotective brothers.
Though, this time it's not a nice stableboy you're sneaking out to see. Now it seems like your brothers would have every right to threaten the man you're seeing with a blinding.
You slowly go down the old, wooden stairs, wincing at every crack and whine that echoes. The whole house is dark, the room illuminated only by the street lamps outside.
Almost...
Before you reach for the doorknob, you clumsily take the keys into your teeth to put your shoes on, which puts you in quite an embarrassing position when a table light behind you suddenly turns on.
"Aren't you a bit too old to be sneaking about Y/N?" Polly asked with a smugly raised eyebrow, nursing a glass of whiskey, legs crossed on the velvet red armchair. You spit out the keys.
"I'm not sneaking." You try to compose yourself as best as you can. "I'm going for a walk."
"Very conspicuous behaviour for a walk, love." The glass muffles her chuckle. Was she just...waiting here?
"I just don't want Tommy to get in my hair whenever I even look in the doors' direction." You whine. "I'll go crazy in this house soon." This seemed to soften Polly up just a bit, or maybe activate the part of her brain which insists on the 'fuck them' mentality when it comes to obeying Tommy's orders.
"Just don't get into trouble. God knows i need to tell you that." She dismissed you with a flick of the wrist, and you just nodded before rushing out the door, as if Polly could change her mind any second.
Street after street, the tension slowly eased off your shoulders as you were exiting the tight Shelby territory. It was a close call once in a while, someone almost recognizing you before you could cover your face more. A group of men whistling after you before you could disappear in a dark back alley. Slowly, you closed in on the place you agreed to meet a man by the name you even feared to say in your head, as maybe Tommy would sit there by sheer coincidence, resulting in you getting cut, or him, or both of you, how Shakespearean...
How has it gotten to the point where you are happily fucking the enemy? Devil knows, honestly.
In the back of your mind, you always had a nagging feeling Luca only started seeing you to spite Tommy. This wouldn't be a problem, of course, you regularly told yourself. You're spiting Tommy yourself!
No, that honestly didn't help. The truth is, whatever Changretta's intentions were, or, still are, you found him irresistibly captivating. Like a substance you just can't resist, one that soothes and pleasures, but at the same time comes with a fifty-page warning label. You can see this blowing up in your face from a mile away, in a million different ways. Yet, every visit, every phone call, hell, every sneakily delivered note shuts off any sense you have left in yourself.
And now you feel like losing it again, when just in front of the speakeasy Luca asked to meet you, a very familliar set of hands gently rest on your waist from behind.
"Took you long enough doll." A kiss on the cheek accompanies the low foreign drawl of Luca's voice, sending shivers down your neck and spine. Shit, if all of you will die soon, you might as well have some fun until then. It's not like Tommy's staying celibate in mourning.
"You're saying that to a doll that has to endure my brothers mythering about town. Sneaking out in the middle of the night isn't as easy for me as it is for you." With your arms crossed, you motion to one of the alleys you emerged from just moments ago. "There's all sorts of shady blokes out and about."
"M'sorry, i got impatient, that's all." You could feel his thumb gently rubbing against your waist "Anyone gave you trouble? You got the gun I got you?" Luca pulled back, looking you over, the slightest hint of concern visible in his dark eyes.
"Yes. To the second thing. I'll be fine." You sigh, relaxing your shoulders. "Are we going in?"
"Right this way cara." Luca's lips curled into a small smile. He linked your arms together and in a nearly over-the-top way led you down the stairs of the high-class Speakeasy.
You might as well have some fun, that's all this is after all.
The loud whistle of the conductor woke you up from an on-and-off slumber, the train from Birmingham to London wasn't exactly the comfiest place to rest your head in. From outside the window, the ever-so-lively London train platform came into view.
To be honest, it surprised you when Luca invited you to spend the weekend in London, even more so when you managed to form quite an elaborate story to justify the trip to your family, or more accurately, Polly. Tommy seemed preoccupied with fighting the Italians, chasing the May lady around town, and making quite mediocre gin to even care what you were up to. Needless to say, officially you finally found a friend that you just have to visit. Polly seemed to pay it little mind, but the sly look in her eye, as she saw you off at the door, made you just a tad paranoid that she might have caught on.
Like always, this will bite you in the arse sooner or...sooner.
Up until now, every 'visit' you paid Luca hadn't lasted for more than half a day, only once reaching a full 24 hours when, to your horror, you managed to oversleep. That was a morning of sloppily put-on clothes and numerous muttered 'shits' and 'craps', of course, accompanied by a very amused Luca doing everything in his power to distract you.
What you were doing right now seemed like a step up from the usual routine. Two days aren't going to fly by with just sex, though, that wouldn't be so bad. But lately, you realized you just wanted to...ugh, spend time with him. However sappy this sounded. But that's not what this is. What even is 'this'? When you and Luca met, what happened was purely driven by want, maybe with more than a touch of curiosity of the 'forbidden fruit' in the form of the enemy. Sweet, with sour at the back of your tongue.
Lately, you realized, you only feel the sweet when you kiss Luca. And though you'd never admit it, you dread him not feeling the same.
You two have your moments. Pillow talks with topics never discussed with anyone before, coffee filled with banter worthy of an old married couple, and non-sexual touches that linger for just a bit longer than they should. It's addicting and confusing at the same time.
And that addiction and confusion just led you all the way to London.
Stretching out of your seat, you reach for your bag in the luggage compartment, only for a stranger to take it instead.
"There you go, Miss." The man, looking maybe a decade your senior smiled handing you the bag.
"Thank you, sir." You muster a polite smile, praying internally that the stranger isn't from the same place you are. "I could've done it myself though."
"It's really nothing, common kindness it is..." The longer he spoke, the more his voice trailed off. His eyes widened, studying your frame and most importantly, your face with a new approach. "You're-"
shit
"Thankyougoodbye." You rush and almost run out of the carriage, running into multiple people and throwing rushed half-assed apologies their way. You're stopped by a strong, painful grip on your arm, the man from before pushing you further down the platform, more secluded from people.
"I knew you were familiar." He grabbed the collar of your shirt and pushed you into a pillar roughly, knocking a bit of air out of your lungs. "One of those Shelby devils!" The man's gaze was furious, almost seeing red.
"Let me go." You ordered, trying your best not to attract attention to the both of you. "And we can both forget about this." You're trying your best to speak sternly and diplomatically, yet more than a hint of fear is hearable in your voice. He seems to notice.
"You ruined me!" The Brummie spat. "I'll cut your pretty face just like they cut me brothers." A rough, callous hand cupped your jaw to hold it in place, the other reaching into his jacket. You feel a mixture of panic and adrenaline make its way to your veins.
"Get the fuck off me!" All your strength goes towards your legs. You kicked him back a foot or two, which only seemed to infuriate him more. Before he could take even a step towards you, he's violently grabbed by... Wait, Luca?
"How 'bout you let the lady go, hm?" His grip on the brummies' collar turned red, almost lifting the man off the ground. That wasn't reflected at all in the way Luca was speaking however, for the first time he seemed...calm, condescending even. That only changed when the man didn't seem to take no for an answer. "That wasn't a fucking request." Luca's voice became a gravelly threat, which resulted in the attacker promptly looking between you and Luca as if weighing the risk and reward. Finally, he nodded his head frantically.
Luca didn't need to be told twice. He almost threw the man aside, letting him limp off into the distance. The Italian was almost immediately by your side, gently cupping your face, checking for any sign of hurt or damage. You feel his thumb caress a small spot next to your brow, despite you being almost sure you hadn't been hit anywhere near there. You take a look behind Luca to see the man at a larger distance.
"Wouldn't think you'd just let him go like that." You raise an eyebrow at Luca, not in a teasing way, it just feels oddly out of character for him to just let him go.
"Because I ain't gonna." He turns to a seemingly unaware civilian reading a newspaper, mumbling something that sounds like Italian, his head only slightly motioning towards the direction in which the Brummie fled. Ah, one of his men, cousin maybe. Just as he left, Luca stopped him for just a second more. "Alive." He let him go.
"Look at you, my knight in shining armour." You smile up at him while catching your breath and trying to calm down.
"Yeah yeah." He doesn't play into your teasing this time. "You alright?" He rubs your upper arm as if dusting off any remaining trace of the event before.
"Just a bit roughed up, had it worse after playfighting with Ada back in the day." You shrug. "I was prepared for you to bash his head in right here."
"That can wait a few days." His gaze followed a pair of men dragging the attacker off the station, his voice almost a promise.
"A few days? What happened to the vengeful, impatient Luca I know?"
"This Luca-" He holds out his arm for you to take. "-Is going to starve him a bit before giving him the mercy of a pipe through his skull."
"How romantic." You sigh in an exaggerated, lovesick voice. "Talk more like that and maybe I'll lift the 'no shop talk' policy." You wink at Luca as you link your arms together, his shoulder becoming the perfect pillow for your head. This time, Luca welcomes it happily.
"How gracious of you." His low chuckle meets yours as you head off to the London center. A fun weekend out is due, after all.
Now, this was definitely an unusual location.
At first, it seemed to you that Luca must have just confused locations when calling. Yet here you were, on the outskirts of a local forest, your only companions in the form of singing starlings and rustling trees.
All this seemed like a rope that was being pulled from only one side. You were the one to stress about being found out, evading family, hell, call sometimes. You felt like a brat, honestly. Technically, there was nothing Luca did that should have upset you, he couldn't have if there were no rules. Was that the thing though? Did you want there to be rules?
With every visit, you want to stay longer, talk more, and Luca seemed to entertain all of it. It confused you. What plan did he have with all this? Did Luca want you to catch feelings and lure you into a vulnerable state, resulting in killing you? Maybe he counted on you as a potential ally against Tommy, trying to manipulate you. Maybe he's just incredibly dense?
He can't want an actual relationship. Luca came here to kill your whole family, including you. The fact that he also likes to play with his prey is another thing, hell, he probably has a wife or girl back in New York. There has to be a wedding band under one of these tacky rings and signets.
"What the hell is he planning?" You kick a pebble down the dirt road in frustration. "A damn Picnic?" You finish off with a groan as you squat down.
Your answer came in the form of the sound of a Rolls Royce engine heading closer and closer toward you, the black car kicking up a hefty amount of dust and rocks. As it slows down next to you and ultimately comes to a halt, you see the familiar face of Luca's right-hand man.
"Get in." Matteo nodded in the direction of the backseat, though you didn't take it into consideration, and immediately headed for the shotgun seat.
"What is all this?" You look around the car as it backs up and starts speeding off in the same direction it came from.
"Luca asked me to get you to him safely," Matteo explained, not taking his eyes off the road. "He didn't want any uhh, repeat from last time."
"How sweet." You answer sarcastically. Ah, of course, he couldn't bother.
"He was definitely sweet when he put the bozo out of his misery." He laughed, looking to the side, as if seeking approval for his joke, but didn't get any. Matteo's laughter dies into an awkward cough.
"How long's the ride?" You try to position yourself as comfortably as possible in the stiff leather seats of the car.
"About an hour." He answers, and you visibly deflate in your seat, deciding to spend the time looking at the sights outside, fields, and occasional houses passing by.
A long, awkward silence passes between the two of you. It seemed to bother the man to your right, who tapped his index finger against the steering wheel while stealing the occasional glance. He looked like he was debating saying something.
"So..." He begins, almost like a father starting a conversation with a child he doesn't quite get. "Did you finish Ulysses yet?"
"Did..." You do a double take, studying Matteo for a long second. "...Did Luca give you conversation starters?"
"What if I made them up?" He blurts out.
"We've spoken twice, Matteo." You raise an eyebrow at him, arms crossed. "I never told you what I read."
"Maybe I just guessed what girls like nowadays." He smirked at you, feeling triumphant.
"I'm sorry, but you're the least qualified person to talk about girls." You say with a chuckle.
"Touche." He smiled, then looked back at the road, letting the silence sit only for a few seconds. "But you're right, we've only spoken twice."
"So?" You raised a brow.
"Sooo." Matteo draws out. "We have about an hour to catch up."
You're genuinely confused as to why Matteo was being so personal all of a sudden. Usually, as in, in the last few weeks or so, you've had two separate, short conversations with the man. Once, when you accidentally came into his room instead of Luca's during one of your 'visits'. The other time, when both of you had quite a boring and awkward conversation about English meals in a lift. "On what grounds should we 'catch up'?"
"On the grounds that you're fucking my cousin Miss Shelby." The way Matteo said that was surprisingly casual. "And family is important to me."
"It's not like I'm married to him." You reply faster than you'd want to.
"He damn well acts like you are." He chuckles, and you feel yourself stiffen, looking at the Italian like he just told you the earth is flat. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"What do you mean by 'acts like I am'?" The question leaves your lips in an uncertain tone, almost shy.
"Never seen him so distracted by someone he's known for such a short time." He says with a shrug "Foolish if you ask me, but who am I to judge, at least he's happy."
He's happy??
"Uh, yeah." He throws you a pitiful smile, as if he could see how perplexed this information made you. "At least from what I can see."
Oh, of course, you said that out loud.
You quieted down, gaze resting on your lap. Now this was new information you had no idea how to process. You bit your lower lip in thought, unsure if the emotions you're feeling right now are uncertainty or... giddy, immature happiness.
You sit like that for a good few minutes before a small, sly smile graces your lips.
"Cousin, huh?" You ask, looking out the window, your good humour slowly creeping back in.
"I'm not telling you his secrets," Matteo says almost immediately as if he somehow knew that you were going to ask that.
"And I'm not asking you." You clarify. "But you probably have some nice stories."
"About what?"
"You knooooow..." You draw out, cocking your head to the side. "What was he like, back in the day?"
"Same as now, I guess. Only longer ago." It seemed like that was the end of your prying on Luca, but after a longer moment, Matteo mused more to himself than anyone else in the car. "More chipper in New York though..."
"Chipper? I'd like to see that."
"Oh yeah, and stupid."
"Now we're talking, tell me more." You lean forward in your seat, elbows resting on your thighs.
"No, I already told too much," Matteo says like he's telling his friends he's had enough drinks for the night. "He's going to skin me alive if he finds out I told you about this."
"Oh come oooooon. I won't tell." You shuffle your feet excitedly. Matteo looked forward, focusing on the road ahead, but after a moment of looking between the steering wheel and you, he let out a defeated sigh.
"...Back in New York, when we were just goons for Spinietta, Luca came up with a new con to scam people with, a really fucking stupid one..."
.
.
.
"And then, THEN it turned out the other guy was from London, and when he heard Luca speaking in a shitty Birmingham accent he-" He paused, but only to wheeze in laughter. "He beat the fucking shit out of him." Matteo finishes the story, on the verge of tears.
"No!" You gasped, though not hiding your laughter as well, leaning forward in your seat.
"Yes!" Matteo wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye, still trying to calm down his laughter. "Never seen Luca on his ass faster in my life, ti giuro. "
"Oh god. And I'm supposed to NOT tease him about it?" You say in amused disbelief. "When he's all 'Look at me, I'm mister smug and aloof, I've never gotten beaten up like a bitch before'." You put on your best impression of the Italian, even going to the lengths of putting a match between your lips and exaggerating your words with excessive hand gestures.
"Hey, we're all hiding behind something principessa." Despite Matteo defending his cousin, he still couldn't help but laugh along with you. After a moment, both of you calmed down, this time falling into a pleasant, comfortable silence before you spoke up again.
"What about you?" You turned to Matteo again.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you want to catch up." You lean against the leather seat, bringing your knees to your chin. "We've got an hour, you ever played two truths and a lie?"
It was a nice ride.
Everyone and their mother thinks the Small Heath home is haunted. Random objects flying off the wall at night, specific items appearing in places they weren't before, the occasional crooked painting.
Footsteps are definitely new.
The boys and Polly are dealing with business outside of town for once, while Ada just went out and should be here any minute. But that definitely isn't Ada.
Slow, almost wary footsteps cause the floorboards to creak on the ground floor. You're sitting next to the stairs, knees tucked to your chest and spare pistol in your hand.
Another step.
You press your ear to the floor, trying your hardest to pinpoint how many people were inside just by footsteps... Just one?
They appear to be coming closer, and you internally brace for confrontation with whoever broke into your home. As the intruder passes the corner you were hiding in, you stick out the gun and press it to the side of their head, making them immediately freeze in place.
Wait-
"Luca????" You blurt out in shock, your voice becoming at least a few octaves higher.
"Hey, you actually kept it," Luca says, sizing up the gun he gave you that's now pressed to his head. "Though I'd rather not die by it sweetheart, no offense."
"FUCKING hell Luca! You scared me half to death!” Your arms drop next to your hips. putting the gun on a table nearby.
“Relax, who would it be if not me?” Luca moves towards you, probably to say his hellos in the form of peppered kisses.
"Who would it be? What do you MEAN who would it be?!" You rub your eyes, not sure if out of frustration or as a way of trying to wake yourself up. “Police? IRA? My own bloody brothers?!” Somehow, this is exactly what you wanted. Luca being the one that sneaks through Small Heath and avoids the blinders, instead of it being always you. Though now, instead of it being a late-night fantasy of the charming man sneaking into your bed despite the dangers of doing so, it's a real-life nightmare of this idiot trying to get himself killed.
“Yeah well, it’s not them.” He shrugs, glancing around the house. “I’d like to see anyone try to stab you in the back in this house. I figure before I’ll get to them you’ll just kill them yourself.”
“Yes, I am quite amazing.” You muse to yourself before snapping back into reality. “Don’t think you can butter me up and I’ll drop it, what are you doing here?!"
“I’m seeing my doll.”
“Need I remind you you’re inside my idiot brothers’ territory?”
"Relax, we'll manage."
You two did not manage.
Who knew Luca Changretta had a talent for knocking down hanged pictures and stepping on the creakiest parts of the wooden floor.
“Shush for once in your life.” You hissed at Luca as you led him through the tight corridor, internally begging whatever made-up deity may be watching over you to please not let Arthur or Polly magically appear out of the corner.
“Please, it’s not like-” You can practically hear Luca roll his eyes, and despite you usually letting him release whatever condescending thoughts he had on the daily, you think you just heard a door open in the distance. You practically drag him the remaining meter to your room's door and push him inside, shutting it way too loudly.
As it turns out, the deity listened to you, but only to half of your half-assed prayer.
“Ada! Heyy!” You try to stay nonchalant as you lean against the door.
“...Hey?” Ada's pace slows down next to you, “What’s got you so pent up?”
“Pent up? Pshh.” You're really not good at this. “Well, I guess I’m just tired, I better get to bed.” Your thumb points back towards the door of your bedroom.
Ada stays put, looking at you puzzled and suspicious.
“Are you going?" She asks.
“Yes.” You blurt out. ”What about you?”
“Y/N, cut the crap. I heard something.” She looks at you for answers, but only when she looks at the door again it's almost as if a light turns on in her head. “Are you…Sneaking someone in?” She reached for the doorknob only to be stopped by you slapping it away.
“Ada no!” You shield the door with your whole body.
“Ow! Hey, come on, I’m not judging. God knows you deserve some fun once in a while.” She rubs her hand. “So who is he?” Your sister looks between you and the door excitedly, her voice now hushed, like all these years ago when the two of you spent hours under the covers giggling about the stupidest of things.
“Uhh, just-” You stammered, struggling to find the right words. or any words for that matter. “You don’t know him.”
“I trust he’s not afraid of Tommy since he followed you here.” She threw a wink your way. “Reminds me of Freddie and I back in the day.” A fond smile graces her face as she looks to the side.
“Oh he’s not, that’s for sure.” You laugh nervously, internally waiting for the sweet release of death. Ada seemed to notice.
“All right, I’ll get out of your hair.” She laughs at her sister, squeezing your cheek as she walks past you. “Don’t get her knocked up Romeo, then maybe I won't have to tell Tommy!” She calls, walking off down the corridor. Only after Ada completely vanished from your periphery you opened the bedroom door just a few inches and slid in. The door locked, checked three times, and you finally released a big sigh, hands sliding off the door to rest next to your hips.
You turn around to see a very out-of-place Luca. Almost everything about him clashed with your small childhood room, the humble interior looking somehow even cheaper next to him. After the company took off, the family never bothered to fancy up the place, instead, everyone went their separate ways into apartments and stylish homes. Yet somehow for you, no king-sized plush bed will ever replace the old, creaking twin you have right here in Small Heath, always ready for you with open arms.
Luca took his sweet time taking in the place. Picking up and then putting down every insignificant object, from small toys you never bothered to throw out or sell, to numerous books lying around the room. He spends the most time looking at an old, framed picture sitting atop your windowsill. Luca's thumb brushes off a heavy layer of dust from 10-year-old Y/N in her year 5 uniform, while the actual Y/N takes her place beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Adorable." Luca nudges you, a sly smile on his lips as he puts his other arm around your shoulders.
"Oh hush, I'm sure I can find a picture of little Luca if I sneak into your home." You stab a finger into his arm playfully, smiling fondly at the picture.
"Wishful thinking, doll. Wishful thinking..." Luca sets down the frame and focuses his attention on you. A kiss on your temple leads to his lips softly trailing down to your nose and meeting your lips. Now the stress of the whole damn ordeal seemed to start slipping away, and the sweet taste is there once again.
The sound of a door crashing on the far end of the hallway takes both of you out of your trance.
“So, that…was Ada.” You turn your head to try and hear any sounds of your sister leaving her room, but Luca doesn't seem to pay it any mind.
“She seems nice.” He hummed against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone, biting down gently.
“What are you doing Romeo?” You turn your head slightly to squint your eyes at him, a distrusting smile gracing your lips.
“Breaking my promise to your sister.” His sly drawl is muffled against your skin as both of you step by step head towards the bed.
“Did you want to come here only to sleep with me under Tommy’s nose?” You sit down on the bed, your brows furrowing.
“I always come firstly to you and because of you,” Luca emphasizes every word as he slowly gets on his knees, never taking his eyes off you. “But yeah, being here does come with its satisfaction. If only they’d see you now, cara.” His hands push up your dress, finding their way to your thighs, fingers getting busy with the garters holding up your stockings.
“Yeah, maybe cut it with the Italian. My sister could be listening in.” Luca only seems to respond in a musing hum. “You never know.”
“Should I put on my best Birmingham accent?” He looks up at you, his signature smartass grin more endearing than annoying.
“Not now. You’ll ruin the mood.” You murmur just mere inches from his lips, laying back into the old, creaky bed, Luca following put. “But definitely save it for later, I need to hear that."
#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfic#luca changretta fanfic#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta x y/n#adventures of yinnin#luca changretta#matteo being the bro we need but dont deserve#shameless Ulysses plug#what a great book
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Beware the Ides of March!
Grab your knives and togas and join me on this Tumblr Holiday where we celebrate the murder of Julius Caeser.
🥖send a prompt for a moodboard or a fic where the only requirements are: must have a murder, a knife, and/or a party
🍷 write a fic or a moodboard with the same requirements from the list above
🫒 let's play Caption This! Send a gif or picture of a character(ocs welcome!) And I'll supply the caption. You can also send the caption and i will find the gif or picture
🗡 the Gladiator Arena: send me a poll and the participants and let's see who wins the fight!
Won't be restricting myself to just peaky characters, every character I've written for be it a cillian murphy character, BBC's World on Fire and now, Masters of the Air
Masterlist
#ides of march#evacore#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders ocs#tommy shelby x oc#eva smith shelby#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby x reader#luca changretta x shelby sister#luca changretta x polly gray#luca changretta x oc#jack nelson x oc#lizzie stark x reader#michael gray x reader#jack nelson x reader#diane shelby#mota fanfic#world on fire bbc#bucky egan x oc#buck cleven x oc#no one has to know fic#its only a paper moon fic
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Thanks for the reply🥰I was thinking of a first night with Luca as a newly married couple. The reader could be a Shelby sister who was forced to marry him to stop the vendetta, so there’s a bit of bad blood between them and she’s scared I would hurt her, but he proves to be a gentleman.💖
𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 — 𝐥.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚
𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. luca changretta x fem!reader (shelby!sister)
𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. arranged marriage, nsfw! unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise, it's quite soft compared to my usual style
𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm so sorry it took me this long to write yout request, my dear. i was quite busy with university and exams, but i hope you can enjoy this fic nonetheless. i tried to keep it soft, but still spicy and i had so much fun writing this despite the stress og my studies 🖤 (also bear with me, i don't speak italian and pulled the pet names from google)
𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.840 words
MASTERLIST
“Don’t be scared.”
His hand ghosts over your spine and comes to rest on your shoulder blade, fingers carefully undoing the buttons of your wedding dress. The lace slips past your legs to the floor and the sight of the white silk pooling around your naked feet reminds you that now, you’re inevitably bound to none other than Luca Changretta, who has become your husband on this very day. Truthfully, you didn’t have a choice — you were meant to marry the leader of the Italian mob since the day your brother killed his father, shot him straight through the head without an ounce of hesitance and that bullet sealed your fate.
Tommy knew it would only be a matter of time until they’d return for the vengeful spill of Shelby blood. Still, it hurts how he barely considered your opinion when he arranged your marriage, a peace offering to prevent more unnecessary deaths in the streets of Birmingham, and sold you off to the Italians as if you were merely another figure on his chess board and not his sister.
That’s the curse of being a Shelby, isn’t it? The purpose of your existence is to sacrifice everything for your family without batting an eye and perhaps that’s why Tommy selected you as the bride - because you were tired of losing because you wanted to live your own life. Because you wanted more.
This is the price you pay.
“I know you’re afraid,” Luca murmurs as if he read your racing thoughts, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and gently grabbing your hands to help you step out of your gown. There’s a tenderness to his touch you didn’t expect to fund after all that has happened between your families, the hatred and the resentment that bonds the two of you, but even now, as he guides you to the bed and pushes you into the soft pillows, his grasp stays gentle. “I promise I’ll take good care of you, amore. Just because I have, well, a strong dislike for your brothers doesn’t mean I won’t treat you like a gentleman.”
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” you whisper, a blush on your cheeks. Your reply causes him to smile, a twitch of his lips that you would have surely missed if you didn’t watch him so closely. His movements resemble those of a predator lurking around his prey — slow, calculated, elegance in every step he takes as he approaches the bed and gently spreads your legs before settling between them.
Arching his eyebrow, he caresses the supple flesh of your thighs, unbothered by your undergarments still covering your most vulnerable parts. You’re grateful he’s taking it so slowly, easing you into this new relationship with much more delicacy than you had expected of the Italian mob.
“You worry too much, pretty girl,” he replies with a soft chuckle, an amused glint in his eyes as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your knickers, tugging on the flimsy fabric until it glides over the curve of your hips. Instinctively, you lift your legs to let him strip off the garment, though you can’t suppress a pleasant shudder when his gaze returns to your cunt, now exposed to his sight. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs, a mere brush against your folds that causes you to take a sharp inhale full of anticipation and much to your surprise, your body moves on its own to get closer to him.
“Let me take care of you, yeah?” His question is followed by his hands grabbing your knees to throw your legs over his broad shoulders as he once again comes to rest on his stomach, pulling you closer until you feel his breath against your cunt. “It would be a shame to neglect you on our wedding day, wouldn’t it? Especially when you look so beautiful, all spread out for me.”
His lips nibble on your skin and you whine quietly at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your flesh, not enough to hurt you, certainly leaving marks you’ll see tomorrow, and strangely, the thought of him claiming you in such a carnal and yet passionate way flusters you.
Maybe... maybe there’s even a chance of love.
You would have liked to indulge in that thought for a moment longer, though Luca’s teasing makes it hard for you to concentrate on anything else but his skilled mouth slowly trailing over the curve of our thigh to where you need him the most. The lack of stimulation frustrates you to no end and forces you, despite your wariness towards your new husband, to buck your hips in search of some friction he might allow you out of pity.
“Don’t be impatient,” he admonishes, though there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. His poorly disguised amusement brings a timid grin to your face and your heart flutters in your chest, somehow completely at ease with the enemy of your family in your bed. This marriage might change your life for the better, although you were preparing yourself for the worst since the day your brother told you he promised your hand to Luca. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, mia cara, but you have to be a good girl for me.”
His tongue darts out to drag over your cunt. A gasp leaves your lips and your toes curl in pleasure, legs already beginning to tremble as your husband repeats the action and places his arm over your stomach to keep you still. His lips find your clit, teasingly sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves to coax more sounds out of your throat, clearly unbothered by your hand that has found its way into his hair to tug him closer to your aching cunt.
Every fiber of you seems to be set ablaze, eyes fluttering close and fingers clawing at the sheets for support while Luca relishes in your pulsing heat as if you’re his last meal on death row.
And fuck, the noises he makes are absolutely filthy — you can hear him groan against your slick folds, nose dragging against your puffy clit while his tongue dips into your entrance. Slowly, carefully and then all at once. The sensation is foreign to you, but the pleasure his mouth brings you is delightful and your hips move on their own for more friction.
Another hand comes up to rest on your waist, harsher and more demanding than the other to hold you in place before it disappears to between your thighs again. You cry out, partly surprised, when he starts to circle your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, writhing and squirming under the electric jolts he sends through your entire body.
“You taste delicious,” he moans between your thighs. The vibrations of his low voice draw another whine from your lips, his name falling from your tongue like it’s the only word you have ever known. “Come on, amore... I think you can moan a little louder than this. We should let your brothers know how good I’m treating you, don’t you think?”
He doesn’t expect an answer from you, already knows you’re too far gone to reply in a manner that would be appropriate for a lady like you, though he finds himself enjoying the way your voice stutters and breaks as you attempt to give him a response. To no avail. Instead, a cry fills the room when he pushes two fingers inside you, slowly stretching you out until your head turns blank and all you can do is paw at the sheets and pull at the dark strands of his hair.
“God, you look so beautiful... You like this, hm?” He murmurs and licks his lips glistening with your juices, a satisfied grin pulling on the corners of his mouth. Oh, he’s so mean about it, asking you this question even though he knows you can barely speak, so condescending and charming that you mindlessly nod your head along his words. Because he’s right, you like it. “I know you do, pretty girl. You’ll take everything I give you, huh?”
The broken sob you let out when he curls his fingers against your sweet spot makes him groan between your shaking thighs, cock throbbing against the seam of his pants, the only garment he hasn’t gotten rid of yet, too eager to please you to care because your pleasure is the only thing on his mind at this moment. His tongue continues to flick over your swollen clit and heat rises in your core, an unforgiving force that grows with each thrust of his fingers inside your sopping cunt.
“Fuck! S’good, so fuckin’ good, Luca,” you keen, legs threatening to close tightly around his head. Your husband chuckles, a deep laugh causing you to blush at the obscene moans tumbling from your parted lips, but you’re unable to hold yourself back, not to mention keep yourself quiet. “Shit, I think I’m going to... I’m close!"
A gentle kiss is pressed to your pussy, then he lifts his chin from your pulsing cunt, digits still so deep inside of you as he crawls up to drag you into a kiss that is surprisingly sweet compared to his fingers fucking faster with every passing second. The drag of his tongue into your mouth lets you taste your own arousal, gets you so lost in the sensation of his lips against yours and suddenly, he’s curling his fingers just right, hits a spot that shots white-hot lightning through your core, and coaxes a sob of pleasure out of you.
“Come on, mia cara," he murmurs, entranced by the movements of your hips grinding down on his hands slotted tightly between your thighs. His fingers move relentlessly, keep prodding at that sensitive spot until your eyes cross and your nails dig into the mattress in desperation. “Cum for me, pretty girl. I promise I’ll give you the world if you cum on my fingers now.”
That’s all you need to fall over the edge. The wave of your orgasm crashes over you in a mind-shattering sensation of pleasure and warmth you have never experienced before, so overwhelming that you’re clinging to Luca’s bare chest to keep yourself grounded as you quiver beneath his body. You notice him whispering something to you, tender words of affection and praise you could almost hear if it weren’t for the blood rushing loudly in your ears, but it’s enough to make you feel comfortable and safe in his arms.
“Are you feeling alright, amore?” Luca quips after your tremors have subsided, smirking at your blissful expression. His nose brushes over your cheeks as he leans down to plant a kiss on the corner of your mouth, one hand cradling your face to take a better look at you. “I understand if you want to rest, though you should know that I’m not opposed to continuing this night just like this.”
#🔪— murderous desire#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#luca changretta x reader smut#luca changretta x you#luca changretta smut#luca changretta imagine#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta x shelby!sister#tommy shelby x sister reader
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Mercy (Arthur and Tommy Shelby) + (Luca Changretta x fem!oc)
Summary: Who's that tall black woman entering the Garrison without asking permission? Arthur Shelby felt something when he saw her. She was looking around, when finally she saw his blue eyes. "Who are ya?" he asked. "Mrs. Changretta," she answered "and you're the one who killed Luca."
Warnings: None.
Words: 1.7k || I'm sorry if I didn't capture Arthur's voice perfectly. It's hard enough to write in other language 🙃.
Over a year ago.
One of her friends was trying to comfort her. Kelly was a dancer in the same place that Aveline sang and the same as her, she was a black woman.
Rumours were too loud to be false. And that explained his disappearance. Aveline was walking to her home when she first heard it.
"Luca Changretta is dead."
"He was betrayed. A mad man killed him."
Luca was dead. Aveline felt her heart breaking in thousand pieces but she refused to believe it. Anyone but Luca.
Next time she heard it was at her workplace. She was leaning against the counter when one man said to the other that the Changretta clan were part of the history now.
"Arthur Shelby."
"The peaky blinder?"
"The eldest one, yes. He shot him."
Her eyes filled with tears. Luca was an assassin and she knew that probably deserved to die, but it didn't mean that it hurt less.
"I'm going to England," he had said to her their last night together "I have business with certain family. But I'll return to you, amore mio."
Aveline smiled at him, while Luca kissed her bare shoulders. "Will you be alright?"
"Of course, Linnie. As always. My sweet Linnie."
They made love once again. That same night Luca gifted her his pocket watch and a brooch made of gemstones. "So you can remember me," he said. "You know, beautiful lillies are Italy national flower and when I saw this brooch I thought it was a perfect present for you. You're a beautiful flower."
She kissed him. Months later, Aveline still could feel his lips over hers and his tongue in her mouth. Luca was as passionate as dangerous.
That was the last memory she had of him.
Now
Birmingham has nothing to do with New York. It was cloudy, cold, rainy and full of mud. And in comparison it was really small. You could hide in New York but apparently not in Birmingham.
Small Heath was almost empty. Very few people pay attention to her.
"Where's the Garrison?" she asked to a man who was selling milk.
"Two blocks away, ma'am. But be careful, not good people."
"I know. And I appreciate your help, sir."
Arthur was smoking and drinking whiskey waiting for Tommy who was dealing with new partners and Michael. Their cousin was starting to be a nuisance and they tolerate him only because of Polly.
Some men were drinking there as well, minding their own business.
The door opened again. This time the person who entered was a really tall woman. Arthur looked at her. Her slim and yet curvy figure was covered by a purple dress. Her gloves were black as her hair. And Arthur could say that she was a pretty woman but most of all, he was impressed by her height. Taller than him, for sure who was the tallest of the family. So different from his wife. The black woman talked quietly with the barman and he pointed to Arthur who gulped.
He stood up when she walked towards him. He wasn't used to see people taller than him. He had to lift up his head to look at her.
"Good afternoon," she greeted.
"Good afternoon, ma'am. How can I help ya?"
"Are you Arthur Shelby?"
"Indeed, ma'am. The owner of this foockin' bar. Who are ya?"
The black woman extended her hand and Arthur took it "Aveline is my name. I'm from New York… and I'm Mrs. Changretta."
A cold shiver ran through his spine. Luca Changretta was married? That killer bastard had a woman? How could Tommy ignore that? Arthur could see Luca behind his wife smiling triumphantly at him.
"Did you really think that you could kill me without consequences, Shelby?" He imagined Luca bitting his toothpick and smirking. "I just sent you my beautiful black angel."
Arthur blinked, still confused. Luca Changretta had a woman and she was there, probably, to kill him.
"May I sit down?"
"Sure, yeah. Yes." Arthur moved the chair and helped her. Then ordered the barman to bring her a glass of gin.
"How can I help ya?" He asked seconds later when they were alone once again.
"I need answers. I really need answers." Aveline touched the glass but didn't drink. Her long fingers grabbed it, feeling the coldness of it. "Why?" Now her dark brown eyes were looking at him.
Arthur drunk another glass of whiskey before answering. "He killed my little brother. My Johnny boy. Then he tried to kill us one by one. I had to."
"You talked as you didn't have another chance."
"I foockin' didn't. It was him or us."
.
"Who's the woman Arthur is talking to?" Tommy Shelby arrived at the pub and saw his brother talking to a woman he had never seen before. The barman shrugged.
"No idea, Mr. Shelby, she came in and asked for Arthur they're talking since then."
From the distance, Tommy studied his brother. Arthur clearly wasn't flirting with her, he wasn't trying to seduce her. Arthur was uncomfortable, but the question was why.
The leader of the Peaky Blinders walked towards them. He put his cap inside his pocket and approached the lady.
"Who are you?" she asked confused by his attitude.
"Don't you know who am I?"
"Should I? I have no clue who the hell are you, sir, but I'm talking with this gentleman."
"He's my brother," interrupted Arthur. "The one in charge: Tommy."
So that was Thomas Shelby? Aveline stood up slowly and looked at him. He barely surpassed her breasts. She saw his blue eyes trying to reach hers, so Aveline lowered her head facing him. "Good afternoon, then, sir."
But Tommy wasn't a man who could be easily intimidated, not even for a tall woman. Why was she so tall? So he didn't apart his eyes from hers. The woman barely blink.
"She's Changretta's wife," Arthur said looking at the table. Only then Tommy stared at his brother and then at the woman again. "Luca Changretta in any case," clarified.
Tommy wasn't sure about it. He investigated. He really did it and as far as he knew, Changretta was a single man. Too busy for love, for a woman. "I need proofs," he said.
"What makes you think that I'm going to show you some proofs apart from my words? Do you want me to prove you that I knew him and that I loved him with every inch if my body? Luca was everything to me."
"He was not married."
"Not officially. Look at me, Mr. Shelby. I'm nothing but a black woman, do you know the atrocities I have to hear day after day? The things his family said to me! But Luca… he was different. We didn't married officially because it's forbidden, because in the eyes of the law I'm less than person. But we did married. Alone, just him and me. I became Mrs. Changretta one cold night after a particularly bloody massacre. I didn't approve it, but I always accepted Luca the same way he accepted me. I'm Mrs. Changretta. Like it or not."
Tommy lit a cigarette. It didn't seem to him that the woman was lying. Only a wife could talk that way of a man like Luca. What she wanted, then? Money? He offered her a cheque but Aveline cursed him.
"I came here because I needed to talk to Arthur Shelby. His name crossed the ocean. Of course, the hero who killed the monster."
"Not a hero, ma'am. Just a man. I won't ask for your forgiveness, this just our job."
"I don't believe in forgiveness. I don't believe in mercy. And considering your job, I don't think you believe in it either. Don't worry about that."
Aveline studied the eldest brother. Unlike the other one, he looked defeated. She imagined Arthur Shelby like a knight in a shining armour. Brave, arrogant, despicable. Instead, he was nothing but just a man. Probably haunted by his own demons. Amazing that he was the one who killed her Luca. Her poor Luca. It seemed he was more willing to talk until Thomas Shelby appeared, now it looked like he was looking for his permission to open the mouth. Tommy Shelby was clearly in charge.
"Then, if you already talked to Arthur and if you don't want money. Maybe what you want is protection, a shelter… I know a woman in London. She works helping women in need. Her name is Rose Solomons…"
"Ya foockin' kill Alfie!! Ya don't want two widows, thanks to the Shelbys, together, Tom."
"Oh, another one. What a nice hobby. Killing husbands must be a nice entertainment." Aveline, snorted.
"Same hobby as Luca. Ask John's wife what she thinks about it." Tommy replied.
"The same wife who run away from your family with the kids? That one? Esme Lee-Shelby, nice woman… she wants you dead."
Tommy chuckled, "I see you did your job."
"I'm a Changretta, do not underestimate me. But, I'm not a killer. My hands are clean and so is my soul." Aveline closed her eyes just for a few seconds. "Do not fear me. I'm harmless. I'm just a singer and now I'm just delivering a message."
"What's the message?"
"The blood of Luca Changretta will chase you. From now and for the next decades."
"All Changrettas are dead," affirmed Tommy Shelby.
Aveline smiled at him, "Wrong. There's still one. Augustus Caesar Changretta my son. His son. Named after the founder of the Roman Empire. Fascinating, don't you think? Maybe he'd found a new Italian empire. It'd be interesting that in the future a tall black man appears in front of you claiming vengeance for a father he never met."
Their last night together, Luca and Aveline had made a baby. The boy was a little over a year old now. The kid was protected by a person she trusted very much.
Aveline stood up and walked through the pub until she reached the door.
"I don't have anything else to say. Good afternoon, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelbys." She was ready to leave but stopped for a moment "Do you know what Italian word Luca taught me first?"
Arthur shook his head and Tommy just looked at her.
"Vendetta."
#arthur shelby#tommy shelby#luca changretta#arthur shelby fanfic#arthur shelby imagine#luca changretta x oc#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x oc#tommy Shelby fanfic
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This was the kind of life you always dreamed of, even as a little girl you imagined a husband who worshipped you like you’d hung the moon and the stars, and it had always been Luca.
Shame your brother had to go and ruin it.
This life, made with love; coming soon
Hey guys, there is a criminal lack of Luca Changretta material on this site, big sad. This is going to be my first piece writing with the intention of posting, so if anyone would like to beta and rip it to shreds before it sees the light of day please message me 🤍
#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders x sister!reader
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Sway With Me | Luca Changretta imagine
Luca takes you to a charity event
warnings: none<3
ps: I see very few Luca Changretta fics here but I’m a sucker for this man
I had the dress picked out. Shoes that matched. I spent an hour doing my hair. And everything was perfect. Luca knocked three times on the door - our door.
“Amore?”
“Come in, love,” I called, and he stepped inside. I was getting dressed, the skirt already covering my lower half, but the I couldn’t do the zipper on the back. I looked at the man in the mirror. He came up behind me and started caressing my shoulders gently.
“The car gets here in fifteen minutes,” he said, and pressed a small kiss on my neck.
“Can you help?”
He smiled and worked the zipper up in one swift motion.
“There. Sei bello, mio caro,” he murmured in his low, raspy voice, making me blush like a teenage girl. We rushed downstairs and took our coats. The car was already waiting for us, parked on the pavement. The ride was quiet - Luca’s mind was somewhere else. I knew it, because we were headed to a very important charity event. Where all of the important people would be, and my husband was a rather important person in Birmingham. It was mainly about business, but he had me at the part where he said there would be music and dancing. We got there shortly. Luca jumped out and opened the door for me. The driver didn’t even had the chance. Luca offered his hand and I grabbed it as we walked into the lit- up building. Stepping in the door, our names were checked off a list.
“Mr. Changretta,” the man smiled. “Good to see you, sir.”
Luca and I walked into the next room, where they took our coats. The huge, two winged door that was next, led us to the ballroom itself. Soft, soothing music was playing, people were drinking and laughing. Everything in the room shimmered. The ceiling was high, and there hung a gorgeous chandelier.
“Oh, this is amazing, Luca.”
“I think I’m rather going to enjoy this,” he spoke. “Sei la donna più bella in questa stanza.” (You are the most beautiful woman in this room.)
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks.
“E il mio uomo è il più attraente,” I whispered to him, making a cocky smirk appear on his lips.
I felt his hands run over my exposed back. I jumped a little at the coldness of his rings.
“Ci porterò da bere,” (I’ll bring us a drink) he said and slipped away into the crowd. I waited for him just where he left me. I felt the eyes upon me. I saw a man approaching.
“Good evening, beautiful,” he smiled lightly.
“Good evening.”
“Tell me, oh, tell me, what is a beautiful lady like you doing here alone?” he pondered the question theatrically. I rolled my eyes. I hated this cliche. And what if I was alone? Wouldn’t be any of his business.
“I’m not here alone.”
“Well, you sure look like it,” he laughed.
I avoided his eye and tried to find Luca in the loud crowd.
“My husband is here somewhere,” I said. He didn’t look really convinced.
“Until he gets back,” he grinned mischievously, “a dance?”
“No, thank you,” I smiled politely, hoping he would leave me alone.
“Ah, come on. Just one dance.”
“No, thank you,” I said, a little more tense than before.
“But-“
“She said no, I believe,” I heard the voice I had longed to hear. Lucas arms closed protectively around mine.
“Mr. Changretta, sir, I- sorry, I didn’t know-“
“What? You tell me you weren’t familiar with the word ‘no’?” Luca asked coldly. “Or did your mother fail to have taught you manners? Va al diavolo.” (Get lost)
The man ran like an injured dog. I smiled up at my husband sweetly.
“Thank you.”
“Did he touch you, mio caro?”
“No.”
“Lucky for him.”
I caressed his bicep lightly.
“It’s okay, forget him.”
“As you wish, amore. A dance?”
I took his hand as he lead me to the dance floor.
“Si signore,” I giggled.
A few couples were already swaying on the floor when we joined. The slow rhythm flew through my husband and he tried to make me dance - his italian blood made him much better at it than me. He guided my waist and pulled me closer up until the moment there couldn’t be a slice of paper placed between us. It was intimidating: the characteristic smell of him that mixed with my perfume. I wished we could stay like this forever, his long fingers hugging my waist, his nose brushing my forehead as he presses a kiss there.
#luca changretta#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta imagine#luca changretta fanfic#peaky fookin blinders#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder fanfic
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Hi)
Saw that you’d like to write something angsty or maybe dark on Peaky Blinders🙂
Maybe Luca Changretta x reader where they slowly fall out of love with each other but meanwhile realize that they still will never leave because they’re so used to the way things are
(Also looking forward to your fic with Dmitri from The Grand Budapest☺️) 😘
Absinthe
Luca Changretta x F!Reader
Peaky Blinders
Warnings: sexual references, mention of kidnapping/violence, mention of domestic abuse, language, very vague allusion to suicide, lots of angst (this is not a happy story lol)
A.N. Thank you for the request!! I hope this is what you had in mind. I sort of wrote this on a whim at 5 am when I couldn't sleep and I ended up projecting a lot of my own shit onto both characters so I don't know if it'll be to your tastes 'cause I'm a bit iffy on this one myself. And thank you; I really hope to start writing Dmitri x Alice soon and am so excited for it!
WC: 1504
“You will not survive on your own, amore mio.”
You hesitated, your heart sinking into your gut as you feared his words to be true. A shiver danced wickedly across the bare of your flesh.
And then, tugging the Italian silk of your dress over your body, you stood, his hand falling from where it had sat cradled in your lap. The empty in your chest split a little wider; those fingers used to squeeze your hip and pull you back to bed as he’d beg you not to leave. Now, they seemed to possess no love, perhaps not even want.
You cast a glance to where they lay limp against the mattress, and dared to observe his sullen look, his clenched jaw, the way that eyes that used to be so bright with adoration now wouldn’t even look at you.
When was the last time he’d really looked at you?
It was probably when you were kids, just barely out of school, and the gloating smirk of the boy had fallen around his cigarette, and his green eyes had glittered like peridot, as you told him yes.
Yes, to marrying him. Yes, to loving him in sickness and in health. Yes, ‘til death did you part.
And this, this sickness of the heart, it had not released you from your oath. Instead, it killed you, slowly, snapped the threads of your soul one by one, seized one shard of your heart each time you looked at him.
The times that hurt the most were always when you looked him in the eye, because you saw your own need reflected in their decaying depths. It might’ve been easier if they were vacant, if they were as cold as his loveless touch and his bitter disposition.
“I may not,” you said. Silences weren’t uncommon between the two of you anymore; you never had anything to say that was joyful like you had in your youth. Breaking it felt like the air had simultaneously returned to your lungs while also being held captive, for you always couldn’t help but hope that he’d say something kind, but also didn’t know how long the silence would stretch afterward.
“But I’m hurting, Luca,” you said, your voice breaking now as a tear threatened to bead on your eyelash, and your chest tightened. “And this is the only way I can think of to be free of my pain. Other than…”
You swallowed a cruel lump in your throat. You didn’t wish to think about the alternative you had once considered.
Animated suddenly by a burst of raw yet barely caged violence, Luca tugged his robe sharply around his shoulders and fumbled for the box of matchsticks on the desk. He wedged one between the teeth he used to knead at it, his inhale deep. Both efforts to soothe a soul darkened by rot.
“I have to leave,” you said, but you had hardly made it more than a few feet to the door before his fingers had wrapped themselves vice-like around your wrist, yanking you back so that you nearly tripped over your heels. His wedding ring bit into the delicate flesh, chilling as it was painful.
And you had no choice but to look him in the eye.
“You’re not leaving,” he growled, his tone almost predatory but that gaze, green like absinthe, entrapping you in a sea of emotions, pleading to you in morose glimmers that peeked past umber stripes of rage.
As you fought your tears, you conceded to his grasp, knowing he could easily overpower you if he wanted. And you shook your head, your lip curling bitterly upwards at what you had to utter,
“I’ve changed. I’m not your wife anymore.”
“The papers state otherwise.”
“Is this really what you want?” Your lip trembled with your own fury now – a fury that stemmed from your agony because you had nothing tangible to blame it on. And you struggled against his grasp feebly. “Do you really want a wife who’s unhappy? A wife who goes to bed every night with a hole in her chest?”
Luca’s grip softened, and for a moment, you thought you saw hurt flash across his irises. He turned his head away and brought his fingers up to brush across the faint stubble of his jaw.
And when his grip released, your wrist had never felt so wretchedly cold, and when he slammed the door behind him, your chest had never felt so achingly empty.
---
He had been so close to hurting you that time. Really hurting you, like he did the men who crossed his family or offended his honour.
But he could never hurt you. At least, he told himself such things, because in some ways, when he looked at you – still a stranger to the scars of violence that riddled his own flesh – he could sometimes see a ghost of the girl who used to be his lover, who used to be the girl with the shy smile and the beguiled gaze.
His fingers travelled across his chest to his lips, as he uttered his final prayer. The incense of the chapel burned nearly as thick as the smoke of the cigarettes he used to worship. Before you had made him quit.
And what had he done for you? He had done everything. He had given you a marriage, when you had nothing to your name, had given you the finest silks and jewelry and had taken you on a perfect honeymoon to Italy where you had made love with his name chanting from your lips like a prayer.
Luca twirled the toothpick in his teeth bitterly.
But in saving you, he had condemned himself. Even in the solace of this moment, he found himself craving your touch, however frigid it had grown. Found himself incomplete, numb.
He’d taken an interest in another broad recently – a maid, but beautiful, with a soft, heart-shaped face and gently curved hips that begged to be ruined.
But it sickened him to touch her.
Because she wasn’t you.
---
With Luca away, you had had time to pack your belongings – just the ones that you needed. All purely practical, except for a letter, its ink bleeding at the edges of its handwriting, the love draining from the words he’d once written you when away on business.
Though you knew you’d regret taking it, it had felt wrong to leave something that used to make you smile with so much joy.
You waited for the train in the dead of night, the wind your only companion as it howled through the archways of the station. But it was not enough to quell the fear in your gut or ease the weight that pressed harder against your suffocated chest with each passing second.
You stifled a sigh as a sharp whistle split the distant, foggy air. And you once again fought back tears that welled in your eyes.
And then the winds shifted, and the cedar and ambrette notes of his cologne stirred something in your chest. You shivered as the warmth of his body settled behind you, long fingers running down the sleeves of your arms. The weight lifted only slightly on your chest, and oxygen returned to starved lungs.
“I told you you weren’t leaving, amore mio.”
You shut your eyes, swallowing against the knot in your throat.
And you thought, with this weight no longer sinking into aching ribs,
I’m not gonna make it on my own.
Your luggage was dropped to the concrete as the train came chugging along, rearing its head of iron and steel from the mists.
His fingers laced through your own, squeezing gently at them, tugging wickedly at a frayed thread of your soul, and you reciprocated, remembering a time when you had worshipped this very hand.
When you turned, his hot breath was exchanged with yours, and the full scent of him washed over your tired bones in a bittersweet familiarity.
And when he kissed you, an ember sparked in your gut that only he had ever been able to ignite, and the heat that pooled in your core was not a desire but a need.
Iron spiked your tongue as you pulled apart, some wrath that still brewed inside you having drawn blood from his lip while your hand cupped his cheek in an almost reverence.
Absinthe eyes sank intensely into yours, and though you knew from that gaze that he wanted you dead, he also needed you just as much as you needed him.
“You were right,” you breathed, your voice a mere whimper against the noise of the train. “I can’t survive on my own.”
Locks of his dusky hair teased your scalp, and his thumb traced the flesh behind your ear soothingly. And you had no idea that, had you boarded that train, his men would’ve been ordered to gag you and deliver you screaming back to him. And though as your foreheads pressed together and your tears spilled from shuttered eyes, it did not banish the pain from the hole that split wider in a chest that bled as slowly as the ink of the letter.
MASTERLIST • REQUEST
Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!
TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey
#luce changretta#luca changretta x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#adrien brody#dark fic#angst#requests#asks#oneshot#peaky blinders imagine#absinthe
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Ok, I’m Curious…
Feel free to share and say why in the tags!
#k’s polls#k’s curious#peaky blinders x reader#tommy shelby x reader#john shelby x reader#arthur shelby x reader#finn shelby x reader#alfie solomons x reader#luca changretta x reader#bonnie gold x reader#jack nelson x reader#isiah jesus x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfiction polls
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The Things I Would Do For You
Luca Changretta x fiance reader
A/N: Requested by the lovely @cillmequick. Based on this list of prompts. Prompt was "It terrifies me what I would do for you." Here's a twist for you, this was going to be dark and I made it fluffy!!
Warnings: language, mention of a weapon, brief fight, angst with fluffy ending
You could hear the brewing argument from the kitchen, your brother’s high nasal voice clashing with the manly tenor of Luca's. You gritted your teeth as you willed him to stop, but each time Marco dared to raise his voice to your powerful fiancé, you seethed with indignation.
Unable to shut out the sounds of his disrespect, you foisted another deft chop at the cutting board, imagining your brother’s neck there in place of the vegetables. Just when you thought you would scream, the voices ceased and your hand froze in midair.
Heavy footsteps thudded across the floorboards and the kitchen door swung toward you with a rush of warm air. Your eyes instantly shot across the room to your brother in question. However, the dark look of disapproval resting on his brow announced his decision before he had need to speak it. "You're not marrying that stronzo! I've already told him I'm sending you to Sicily next month."
That’s when your simmering temper climbed to a blazing inferno. Whipping around to face your brother head on, you announced, “I won't go! No one can keep me from him.”
The haze of anger overtook your body before you realized you were swinging at him, the large butcher knife still clutched in one hand raising above your head in a menacing swipe. He grasped your shoulders in an attempt to overpower you, crashing you both into a nearby wall and knocking the weapon from your hand and the air from your lungs.
The harsh metallic clang of the knife reverberated off the tiles like an alarm bell, the shock separating you to opposite corners of the room. Gasping at what you’d just done, you scrambled off the floor and dashed down the back stairs to the alley. Feet pounding against the creaky wooden steps, you rushed to find somewhere to hide.
It was Luca who found you pressed tightly against a wall, clutching a packet of cigarettes to your chest. You hadn't noticed they were crushed in your fist until his long fingers unfurled yours gently, a sigh escaping as he plucked one out and placed it to his lips.
There was only the rush of your desperately beating heart as you watched him light it for you. Handing it over into your trembling fingers, he patiently waited for your shoulders to relax with the first long drag.
You were waiting as well. A confession on your lips you knew he needed to hear. Blowing smoke over your shoulder to avoid his gaze, you shamefully admitted, "I'm not a good Catholic girl like you think, Luca. I could have hurt Marco tonight."
His eyes softened as he reached to stroke your cheek. "You couldn't hurt anyone, cara mia."
You shook your head against his hand. "I could if you asked me to," you declared, staring into his eyes earnestly. "It terrifies me the things I would do for you." The lovesick twinge in your voice assured him of your loyalty, making his chest swell with pride.
He enveloped you in a tight embrace, head resting upon the crown of your head as he promised, "I would never ask you to. As long as you're my girl, you'll be taken care of and protected."
At those words you began to cry softly. Luca cradled you there, stroking your back with his large hands and the silence comforted you until you began to think of Marco again.
"What do we do about my brother?" you asked with a sniff.
"I'll handle it. You don't have to worry anymore," he said, tilting your chin up to meet his twinkling eyes. A charming smile spread across his face as he added, "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."
-------------
Tag List:
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@evita-shelby
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@alanadetigy
@severewobblerlightdragon
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@the-wise-old-elf
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@call-sign-shark
#Luca Changretta fanfic#Luca Changretta imagine#Luca Changretta x you#Luca Changretta x reader#Luca Changretta x y/n#Luca Changretta
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Little Lamb
Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader
Request: Hii!! I love your latest Luca works! I know it’s not original at all, but can you make one where the reader is a Shelby and she’s made to marry Luca to stop the vendetta? She’s still terrified of him because she obviously was on his black list and she’s sure he still resents her family, but he tries to make en effort to reassure her for both their sake. It could be a scene from before or after the wedding, or even the wedding day/night. ❤️❤️
Warnings: Arranged marriage
Part 2: Little Lamb PT2
Masterlist
This is not how you imagined your future would go. Trusted up like a prize lamb for auction before it was bought and killed.
The only problem was that you knew who was buying you and what price.
Your new owner was Luca Changrett. And his price was the removal of the Shelby clan from his vendetta.
You remember the day that you received the black hand. You had been celebrating Christmas with your friends when it came through your post box.
You had always distanced yourself from your family’s affairs, so this was the last thing that you expected to receive. But somehow, you always managed to get dragged in. In this case, it was an angry Italian on a killing mission.
And here you stood on what was meant to be the best and biggest days of your life. The whole thing was a complete blur to you. You knew that your family could see that you were running on autopilot. Dead behind the eyes. But you didn't care. They were the reason that you were in this position. They could have not medaled. But instead, they meddled, and you would have to pay the ultimate price.
Polly led you off as the party started to draw to a close. And from the look on her face. And her refusal to meet your eye. You knew what was going on. You were being taken to your metaphorical death.
So when Polly ushered you into a bed-chamber, you weren't surprised. Polly looked like she wanted to say something. Probably an apology. But you didn't want to hear it. So instead, you gently shut the door in her face. You didn't need to or want to hear their apologies. It was all too little too late.
When the door was closed, you carefully stripped out of your dress. Hanging it up, you then walked back to the bed where you sat down. There was nothing you could do, so you might as well avoid it. You might as well wait in your underwear, hoping that it is less painful that way.
You didn't have long to wait for your 'husband'. He opened the door barely 5 minutes after getting out of your dress.
He seemed surprised.
"What are you doing?" Luca asked you.
"Waiting for you." You told him as if it was apparent. Because to your mind, it was evident what was going to happen. Luca was going to have his way with you. And then one of you where going to have to leave.
Though Luca seemed even more surprised by your statement. "Why are you only in your undergarments then?" he asked.
"Is this not what you wanted?" You asked, getting increasingly more confused.
"God, no," Luca said, sounding horrified.
Luca started talking about his jacket, and for a horrifying moment, you thought he decided to take you up on your suggestion.
As he approached you, you closed your eyes. Mentally preparing yourself for what is to come. You were startled out of your thoughts by the feeling of fabric being draped over you. Tentative, opening your eyes, you were greeted with the sight of Luca backing away from you again. Looking down at your shoulders, you could see that he had put his suit jacket over your shoulder.
Luca seemed happy with the fact that you were now slightly less undressed. You watched a Luca turned around. Moving the armchair from where it had been tucked in the corner to somewhat closer to where you were sitting.
Not quite sure what was going on, you watched Luca with eagle eyes. Wondering what he was going to do.
But all he appeared to do was roll his sleeves up and rest his elbows on his knees. And as you observed him, he observed you. Nothing calculation or cruel about it. You just looked at each other.
When Luca seems to have seen enough, he asked you a question. Not a question to pry into your family. He just asked you what your favourite colour was. Startled, you looked at him for a moment before answering as you then asked him was his was. He answered it before asking you about your favourite type of food. And that was how your night went on. You and Luca just got to know each other. Not what you had been told about echo other or the mask that you put on. You just got to know each other.
#Peaky Blinders#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders x sister!reader#peaky blinders x y/n#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta imagine#luca changretta fanfic#luca changretta x shelby!reader#Luca Changretta#f!reader#x reader#Imagine
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Nobody's Girl - A Luca Changretta/OC Story.
Okay, okay! I got the message quite clearly that just a few of you are more than a wee bit excited for this, so regardless of the poll results, ya bestie over here is giving you the first chapter. Everybody gather round and meet Emily Jane. She shyly says hi.
Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed
Words - 4,224
Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!
Brooklyn, 1923. It was a dangerous place to be in certain areas of the New York borough, where bullets fell like rain and crimson bled plentifully into the gutters. Its misdeeds were becoming famous, the mob swelling like a well-fed beast, prowling the streets unleashed, snarling and hungry. In Brooklyn, the mafia were the kings, whether you, your mother, your cousin or the cops liked it or not.
It was generally advised that you did not protest.
Wiseguy compliance was safer than the alternative, and everybody knew it. When they came knocking, offering fistfuls of dollars to store barrels mostly containing contraband beer, gin and whiskey within the warehouses of legitimate businesses, the proprietors knew that you either said yes or you died. That money you were so generously handed would be earned back, though.
“So look, uh, you gonna be lookin’ after this cargo for us, right? That means there are gonna be certain guys on the street who ain’t gonna be too pleased about you working with us. So, what I’m gonna do is have a few of my guys lookin’ out for ya. Fifty bucks a week and nothin’ happens to your business, or your family.”
The story was the same for any other business within the radius of their turf, racketeering forced upon you whether you guarded contraband alcohol for them or not.
It was generally advised that you paid them the fifty bucks.
Of course, when it came to the families going to war with one another, there was nobody there to protect you, whether you paid into a protection racket or didn't. If the police were called, they generally – and purposefully - arrived too late, the large wedges of cash stuffed into their back pockets by whichever mob crew were buying their compliance ensuring that.
No, when the gunfire erupted and turned the silent streets into a bloodied cacophony, you knew there was only one thing to do.
It was generally advised that you duck.
On that particular chilly November night, though, with the threat of snow hanging heavy in the air from the thickened clouds above, one young woman opted not to duck. Instead, she chose to walk right out into the carnage, for it was perhaps the only avenue she could tentatively tread upon in order to save herself from hell.
The Changretta’s and the Calabrese's had been at war with one another over turf for months, disputes rife over what mob presided over which area, promises of blood come good after negotiations had failed, leading to the shootout between both crews in the dead of night.
Bullets peppered the air, tattooing the buildings and cars along the street, screams and shouts only just about audible over the thrum of heavy machine gun fire, men diving and dying left and right. The sins they fought and died for knew no difference, but somewhere in the madness, these men of bloodthirsty savagery had a line they would not ever cross.
The Changretta mob scanned the desolate street, high alert agitating their blood, neurons firing rapidly as they watched the area, looking, waiting for movement. The enemy had been thinned to what appeared to be nothing, their bodies littering the ground, but that didn’t mean there weren’t more lying in wait.
Luca’s unblinking eyes toured the darkness, daring to slowly rise from his concealed place behind the front wing of a shot-out Ford, each step crunching the shattered glass beneath his feet. Nothing. They’d accomplished the extermination mission sufficiently, not a single Calabrese goon left breathing.
“Boss! On your left!”
At his right hand’s call, Luca spun, directing his gun at what his eyes picked out through the inky night, a glowing light splitting the dark, his men beginning to fire.
“Stop, fuckin’ guns down, now!” he bellowed, his cadence rising sharply, way above his usual silky, rumbling drawl. “It’s a girl, you dumb fucks.”
She seemed to glide over the ground, her feet bare, platinum hair matted and tangled, the white lace of her dress torn and bloodied.
“What the fuck? Is it a trap, or what?”
Luca turned to view Enzo with a slight shrug, his hand reaching out to grasp his arm when he raised his gun. “Ah, aspetta, aspetta.” At being told to wait, his right hand once again lowered the machine gun, both Italians watching as the girl continued her walk, her eyes wide and dazed, her face bloody, purple welts marking her features. The closer she got, the more of them Luca noticed, angry and swollen upon her pale skin, the infliction of brutality tarnishing much of her body, a body that buckled as she suddenly fell, collapsing in the middle of the street.
“Ain’t no trap.” Moving out fully, Luca strode through rivers of blood and bullets, removing his long, wool coat, wrapping it over the barely dressed blonde as he crouched at her side. “Hey, what the fuck happened to you, huh?” He gave her cheek a few gentle slaps, trying to rouse her. “You with me? C’mon, wake up.” This truly wasn’t the time or place for damsels in distress. He had himself and his guys to think of before all else.
Her eyelids fluttered, blinking rapidly a few times as she came to, curling herself smaller. Her mouth opened, and Luca was sure she said something, but her voice was ghostly, so quiet he was scarcely sure she’d spoken at all.
“What? I can’t hear you.” He leaned closer, craning his ear, just about able this time to hear her words.
“There’s a bomb under your car. Twenty seconds.”
With widened eyes, his head spun round to where his assembled crew waited. “Move! The fuckin’ car is live, move!” Pulling her up off the street and into his arms, he and his men began to run, covering the ground rapidly. They’d gotten a good hundred feet away, yet their eardrums still all but ruptured when the TNT blew, reducing the Buick to an inferno.
They took cover behind another car, a car Enzo rapidly broke open the door of, cranking the engine into life. “Let’s get the fuck outta here, eh?”
So, it looked to Emily like she was leaving one set of wiseguys and going with another as the tall, slender man who held her jumped into the back of the car, three other guys piling in, the car shuddering out from its spot and being directed in the opposite direction to the blast.
“Hey boss,” Dante piped up from the passenger seat, nodding at the blonde. “Who’s the dame?”
“You know as much as I do.” He was just about to ask her that very question, looking down to see her head lolled over his arm, out cold once more. Whatever the fuck she’d been through, he could gauge it was a lot. Giving him the kind of information she had, though, information that had saved him and his crew from being blasted to smithereens, he wasn’t just about to let he be on her way.
If she knew about the bomb, then what other information might she have? The firefight had not exterminated all of the Calabrese mob, just a mere handful of foot soldiers.
Exiting the car on the corner of Third Avenue, Luca strode towards the doors of Bella Vita, the bar turned speakeasy he owned, the doormen nodding to him and swinging the doors open. He took an immediate right, the thumping blare of jazz music and patrons having a fabulous time hurting his still fragile, bomb-blasted ears, another large man employed for security purposes opening the next door he came to.
It closed with a heavy thud behind him, the wall of noise muted, Luca beginning to climb the stairs that led to his spacious apartment. It had only been home for seven months, since he had the former three dwellings gutted out and fashioned into something more resembling the comfort he was accustomed to. High standing members of the mafia did not reside in shabbiness.
His former abode, a sprawling townhouse upon the Upper West Side of Manhattan, was now solely home to his ex-wife and three children. For a quicker divorce from the wretched, screaming harpy whom he had once loved very dearly, he considered it a cheap price to part with for the sake of his sanity. Her alimony was also eye watering, but it wasn’t like Luca didn’t rake in serious bank.
He’d also never deprive Milania, Guiseppe and Alessio of anything. His sons were the apple of his eye, and his daughter, well, she was quintessentially daddy’s little girl. He just wished she had a smidgen less of her mother’s hot-headed temper. Then again, he supposed he deserved every ounce of it, not being a particularly good husband to Filomena.
Well, it was subjective, really. He provided for her, took her out regularly, bought her an abundance of luxuries from expensive jewellery to beautiful furs, but he did have somewhat of a predisposition for sticking his cock where he most certainly should not have stuck it. Filomena had all but turned a blind eye to his philandering ways, and Luca knew that was why he’d continued to do it, because she'd let him. She didn’t care, it seemed, so why should he?
Maybe if she’d have been the kind of woman to crack his jaw and tell him in no uncertain terms that he was hers and hers alone, he might have fixed up and adhered to the fidelity he’d promised her, but she never had. It went right over his head that this is what he should have pledged without the threat of violence in the first place.
The final straw finally drove her into action, though, arriving home earlier than he’d expected one day to find him in bed with two whores, one astride his face and the other riding his cock. There weren’t many women out there who could witness the man they loved in that kind of scenario and still continue to love him. She’d given him nothing but pure, unfiltered hell in the time between, Luca agreeing to all of her demands, just as long as she didn’t touch either his car collection, his speakeasy, or his home in the Catskills.
Carrying the mystery blonde over to the lounge area of the open plan apartment, he placed her down on the dark, oxblood leather chesterfield, noticing that she’d come round again. “You wanna drink, sweetheart?”
She nodded, beginning to tremble a little. “Hey, you’re alright. I ain’t gonna do nuthin’ bad to ya.” Emily doubted his sincerity, knowing wiseguys as well as she did. His voice was half salty rumble, half viper’s hiss, but each word was delivered with the kind of hush that made her feel soothed, she had to admit. The quietness of his tone made a nice change from being yelled at. “Whaddya drinkin'?”
“A water, p-please,” she stuttered, Luca nodding. He’d been offering liquor, but water he could do, too.
He paused before going to fetch it, crouching before her, studying her wounds a little more closely now she was under the brighter lights within his home. “Those cuts are nasty, doll. Who fuckin’ did this, eh?” He reached for her face, regretting it instantly when she shot across the couch, curling into a ball at the opposite end. “Woah, hey. Like I said, I ain’t gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help you, and for you to tell me what you know about the Calabrese guys. I’m guessin’ you know a whole lot, to know one of ‘em stuck a bomb beneath my car.”
She trembled, her eyes wide, her silence profound. “I’m gonna get you that water.” He rose to his feet slowly, knowing he had to treat her as if she were an injured fawn, everything slow and steady, save her from becoming furtherly spooked.
Caring for another, though, was somewhat beyond his usual skill set. Luckily from his own scrapes, he both knew how – and possessed the necessities - to clean up wounds before they became an infected mess, going to the bathroom and pulling out gauze and a bottle of iodine, returning to the kitchen to fetch her requested glass of water.
He handed it to her, moving to his drinks cabinet then and pouring himself a large measure of whiskey, returning to sit in front of her on the coffee table. “You gonna let me clean you up?”
She shook her head, spilling several drops of water as she lifted the glass to her lips, downing it in its entirety.
He nodded, sucking the matchstick he was chewing before removing it. “Alright. You gonna tell me what you know?”
Again, she shook her head.
He shrugged, a little agitated, but knowing he had to play his cards carefully. “I got all night, doll. Could start with your name, though, if the rest is too much to ask.”
She wanted to trust him. Hell, he could have simply dropped her from his grasp and left her there on the street, but he’d taken her with him, back to the safety of his apartment, no less. Of course, though, it was to gain information. Then again, if it was solely that, why was he trying to help her? Men who sought only answers to their questions seldom had the interest to clean wounds. Hell, they usually jammed a gun to your tonsils and told you to spill all as soon as they removed it.
Who was she to him that he’d care whether her cuts were bathed? Still, it took him a patient wait of just over a half hour until she finally spoke.
“Emily Jane,” she finally replied, swallowing hard. “Emily Jane Mortensen. Most people just call me Emily, though.”
He lifted his chin, pointing to her water glass. “You want another in there, Emily?”
“Please.”
Well, she had a name, at least. It was as good a start as any. “You know,” he began, long legs extending as he rose to his feet, walking back over to the kitchen area, “the Calabrese’s won’t do shit to you with me around. If that’s why you’re scared to talk, ain’t no mind, doll.” Returning to her, he resumed his seat upon the coffee table, handing over the glass. “Like I said, though. I got all night.”
Protection. Something she’d longed for, but could she truly trust it? She knew exactly who he was; Luca Changretta, the big boss, the number one apex predator at the top of the mafia hierarchy. It was either the very best, or the absolute worst place that she could have ended up. “Gino Calabrese ordered Joey, his youngest son to have the bomb planted, so that if the firefight didn’t kill you, the blast definitely would.”
His eyebrows rose a little, chewing the matchstick slowly. “And you know this how? Who are ya, to Gino?”
Finishing her water, she reached to place it upon the coffee table, Luca taking it from her, resting his forearms back to his thighs as he leaned forward, looking expectant. “Um, nothing to him, but to his son, I – well, I was his card counter. That’s kinda moot now, though, since you and your guys put about sixteen bullets in his chest.”
His lip curled slightly. “Card counter?”
“Yeah. I have a real fast brain for math, so technically I can’t ever be beaten in a game of blackjack. I won Joey thousands upon thousands at games all over, from Vegas to Reno. Illegal games, too. Women don’t usually get a seat at the table, but I got to, because...”
“Cuz’ Joey boy was partially sighted, I’m guessin’, right? You were his alleged eyes, but truly, you were there to tell him when to make his moves, amirite?”
God, he was very sharp. “Correct,” she confirmed, although Luca still looked slightly dubious, reaching behind him and grabbing something. He turned back to reveal a deck of cards, sliding them from the box and giving them a rapid shuffle.
“Show me.” Standing, he moved to sit beside her on the couch, dragging the table nearer and dealing out as he were the house, Emily moving a little nearer.
“Alright, so I mostly use the Hi-Lo strategy. It means if the ratio of high to low cards is higher than normal, the player can make bets that are larger when the deck is favourable.”
He noticed it instantly, how when presented with the opportunity to show off her skill, she unwound from the nervous, tense little waif he’d carried into his home just over an hour before. “How’d you know if the deck is favourable?” he asked, a frown knitting between his dark brows as he pointed at them on the table.
“You have to track the ratio of high to low cards by assigning them with a value. You begin at zero, then as each card comes up, you add it to your tally. Cards two to six have a value of plus one, cards seven to nine have no value, and cards worth ten and also aces have a value of minus one, so you keep adding and subtracting, betting accordingly. Watch. Hit me.”
He dealt her another card, Emily tapping it. Another was placed. “I’m holding.” Turning the other cards, he saw she would have won her hand had they been playing for cash. He made her do it another five times before he truly believed what she could do, sitting there with slightly widened eyes.
“Look at that, huh?” he spoke, gathering the cards from the table and returning them to the pile. “No wonder he kept you around.”
She shrugged. “Shame it wasn’t of my own free will. All of this mess I’m in, it was because I tried to get away from him earlier, so he took a set of brass knuckles to me. Wasn’t the first time either.”
He studied her face, his jaw tightening. Luca had few codes of honour, and not taking his fists to a woman was high upon that list. He hissed a breath, his eyes narrowing. “Fuckin’ asshole. I’m extra glad I shot the living fuck outta him now.”
Dropping her gaze, she folded her arms, looking at her bare feet. “So am I.”
Reaching for his drink, he knocked it back, truly feeling glad that Joey no longer breathed. If there was one thing he truly detested, it was a woman beater. He didn’t have much to be proud of in his life, morally speaking, but he had never and would never raise a hand to a woman. Ever. “Fuckin’ brass knuckles, Jesus above. I know how much those fuckin’ things hurt only too well.”
She snorted softly, her eyes finding his again, her heart doing a little somersault as she watched the peridot shards glint at her through the low light. Hoo boy, he was a handsome one. Deadly, but handsome nonetheless. “Who on earth is brave enough to take a set of brass knuckles to the famous Luca Changretta, and live to tell the tale?”
He smirked, rising to his feet. “Nobody these days, but when I was still comin’ up, plenty of guys.” Moving back to the drinks cabinet, he took the bottle of whiskey, turning to her. “You want another water in there, or somethin’ else? I got just about everythin'.”
Peering at him over the back of the couch, he felt his inside pinch a little. She was so tiny and cute. “Could I have a vodka rocks, please?”
“You can, but ice I don’t have. Gimme a sec.” He strode across the space again, heading back down the stairs, the sounds of music growing louder and then returning to the dull rumble, Emily moving to pull on the long coat around her, feeling chilly. It smelled of him. The woody, musky, yet slightly spicy notes of whatever cologne he wore filled her nose as she held the soft lapels to her face.
The sudden blare of music signalled his imminent return, the tall Italian appearing from the stairwell once more, carrying with him an ice bucket he placed upon the table, going back to the cabinet and collecting the whiskey and vodka bottles, pouring a large measure into her glass, dropping the ice in and handing it to her.
“Thank you,” she spoke, Luca noticing her manners were impeccable, also watching her face as it twisted into a grimace, Emily hissing before straightening her leg, examining her grazed knee.
He gestured to her injuries with a sweeping hand. “Gonna let me help you with that yet? You’re kinda bleeding all over my couch.”
In an instant, she looked horrified. “Oh, I’m so sorry, and probably your coat, too. I’m an idiot, I'll sit on the floor.”
He moved swiftly, shaking his head. “It’s fine, ain’t no bother, doll.” In truth, it was, but he kept that to himself. Blood cleaned off, he had to concede. This girl, he needed to keep her sweet in order to keep on feeding him further information that he sensed she possessed. Joey Calebrese might not have been high up within his criminal family, a street guy who was not yet elevated at the time of his death (and which was why, Luca guessed, he’d used Emily for her card counting skills to make the kind of bank his lower standing didn’t allow for) but being around them, she was bound to know more.
She was a valuable asset, and he’d treat her as such.
He picked up the handful of gauze and iodine, moving back to the coffee table. “It’s gonna sting like fuck, but you likely know that.”
She did. Bracing herself, she clenched her teeth as one by one, Luca dabbed each cut and graze with the iodine-soaked gauze, wincing, hissing at the burning, sharp sting. “Gonna be a little black n’ blue for a while, honey,” he drawled, his mouth tilting into a smile. “Still pretty, though.”
He winked, and it sent a spark through her, although the rational side of her brain told her that allowing herself to be charmed by a dangerous mobster was the last thing she truly needed right then. He didn’t make it easy, though, being attentive to her, looking as good as he did. She’d always had a thing for older men, and she could guess he likely had at least a decade and a half on her twenty-three years.
“So, you gotta home I can take you to, people wonderin’ where the fuck you vanished to?”
Home. It was a word she didn’t really have any true comprehension over, the place that to everyone else acted as a sanctuary, a safe haven, had truly been anything but to her. “No, I don’t.”
“No port in a storm, huh?” he asked, gently lifting her leg to rest upon his slender thigh, smoothing her dress up a little to reach a cut beneath. His hands were so hot. Yet another spark flared within her belly.
“No, no port.” She paused, meeting his eyes, knowing he was expecting more. “I’ve no idea who my father was, and my mother was a drunk, still is for all I know. I don’t have any siblings either so when I was eighteen, I left California and made my way across the country to New York. Wanted a better life for myself. It didn’t exactly go to plan. I have a habit of trusting the wrong people.”
He looked away from her then, eyes flitting to her knee, pressing the gauze onto an open cut. He was definitely a man she shouldn’t have trusted, and he wasn’t entirely sure why that suddenly prickled quite sharply at his conscience, but it did.
“You probably don’t trust me, but if you wanna crash here until you find your feet, you’re welcome to.”
She looked at him with big, grey eyes full of hope. “Really, you don’t mind?”
He sniffed. “Wouldn’t have offered if I did.” Placing the cork back into the iodine bottle, he moved to take a seat beside her again, picking up his drink. “Might be better if you do, actually. The Calabrese’s are likely lookin’ for ya. If you vanished and didn’t wind up as a dead body, and I didn’t get blown up, then it don’t take no genius to work out that you ratted on ‘em.”
Shit. She hadn’t even considered that. It was a fear Luca was banking on playing upon, and it had worked flawlessly. “S’okay, though, sweetheart. As long as you’re with me, they ain’t gonna touch ya. You’re fine.”
Was she, though? Emily truly had to wonder. She pondered over it for the rest of the night, Luca telling her she could go take a bath and clean up, loaning her one of his shirts to wear that absolutely buried her, telling her he’d take the couch while she slept in his bed. She tried to protest, but he wouldn’t hear of it.
“I ain’t exactly a gentleman in a lot of respects, but you ain’t gonna sleep on the couch. Nah. It’s fine.”
Was it, though? As her tired eyes fluttered, lying in the comfort of a big bed that smelled like her host, she truly did have to wonder.
#luca changretta fanfiction#luca changretta smut#luca changretta x oc#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders smut#luca changretta fanfic#luca changretta fic#luca changretta#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fic#nobody's girl#luca and emily#adrien brody
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Rysko's guide to the galaxy - Peaky Blinders Masterlist
Hiya! Welcome to my Peaky Blinders blog, i've been in the fandom for a few months now (late to the party, i know xD), but i've only started writing in late december. I'm finally doing a masterlist so i have an easier way of accessing shit (and maybe ya'll will as well). It'll be updated after every published work.
Want me to write something? My requests are open, rules are posted here.
Ongoing Series:
Kings of Spades - Luca Changretta x OC
Other fics (sorted by character):
Tommy Shelby -
(Coming Soon)
Luca Changretta -
Too old for this - Luca Changretta x f!reader
Arthur Shelby -
(Coming Soon)
Alfie Solomons -
(Coming Soon)
Aberama Gold -
(Coming Soon)
- MORE CHARACTERS TO COME -
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#arthur shelby#luca changretta#aberama gold#alfie solomons#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders oc#kings of spades#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby fanfic#luca changretta x y/n#luca changretta x reader#luca changretta fanfic#arthur shelby fanfic
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Reader insert Masterlist
Part 2
(Masterlist 1)
Ran out of space lol
Tommy Shelby
Only Joys will come (part iii of nights on the January)
Happy wife Happy life (drunk!Tommy x wife)
Promise (tommy x sick!reader)
Chance (tommy x ex!reader)
Ths Red Room (tommy x reader x eva) vampire!au
Torture (tommy x wife!reader)
Fatal Attraction (tommy x assassin!reader)
Cuddling(part 2 for happy wife happy life)
Death shall set you free (tommy x wife!reader)
The Devil of Small Heath (kelpie!Tommy x witch!reader)
A Dull Party (Tommy x Eva/Reader x Tatiana)🔞
Dad!Tommy fics
Ghosts of New Year's Past (Tommy & Diane(oc daughter) & Polly’s Ghost)
Luca Changretta
Persistence (luca x shelby sister)
Jack Nelson
The fabulous miss shelby (part 3)
Two for One (Luca x reader x Eva)
The professor
Hunt(vampire hunter au)
Michael Gray
Finn Shelby
Preacher's Daughter (kid!finn x Jeremiah's duaghter!reader)
Isiah Jesus
#tommy shelby x oc#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby x oc#peaky blinders fanfiction#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby x reader#tommy shelby x fem!reader#tommy shelby x wife!reader#tommy shelby x male!reader#luca changretta x fem!reader#luca changretta x reader#isiah jesus#isiah jesus x reader#finn shelby x fem!reader#michael gray x fem!reader#michael gray x reader#jack nelson x reader
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