#luca changretta

[zablife]

When They Leave Bruises

A/N: 🔞 A few quick headcanons. No editing just my unfiltered thoughts.

John

🖤 John can't help his strength, pinning your arms above your head as you play fight in the betting shop after hours.

🖤 His fingers dig into the delicate flesh of your wrists as he kisses you hard, reminding you why you pretend to be slower than him when he gives chase.

🖤 As you half heartedly push back against the crushing weight of his hips, you have to admit his dominance is a turn on.

🖤 You’d let him do anything to you so the press of his fingertips is little to worry over, until you notice the marks next day.

🖤 John rolls your sleeves back to examine your skin the moment he glimpses the first mark and kisses each one softly.

🖤 He promises not to be so rough with you, but you only shake your head in disagreement. “I like it when you’re rough,” you confess and he smirks against your neck.

Tommy

🖤 Tommy loves taking you against his desk, gripping your hips in a vice like grip.

🖤 When he’s in need of stress relief, he’ll pull you toward him knowing you’re the only one who can stop the wheels turning in his overactive mind.

🖤 He often doesn’t realize when he crosses the line from passionate to brutal as he fucks you and it’s in those moments he’s most likely to mark you up. Crescent shaped marks dug into your supple flesh.

🖤 When he catches sight of the bruises marring your skin, he’s wracked with guilt and tries his best to make it up to you.

🖤 Even if you tell him it doesn’t bother you, he’ll shower you with kisses and presents until you’ve assured him many times over that you wanted it just as much as he did.

Arthur

🖤 Arthur isn’t like his brothers, he won’t apologize for his lovemaking, esp if he’s under the influence.

🖤 You belong to him and being insecure, he marks you up to show his ownership.

🖤 He’s been known to leave handprints around your throat when he’s high on snow, choking you for your pleasure and his.

🖤 Tommy is the one to make him stop, threatening to hide you away from him if he doesn’t stop hurting you.

🖤 What Tommy doesn’t understand is your masochistic streak, needing Arthur’s punishments to feel loved.

🖤 When you explain this to your brother-in-law, he leaves you and Arthur to your own, twisted desires.

Luca

🖤 Luca expects obedience from his girl. If you so much as look at another man, his jaw clenches in anger to be revisited upon you later.

🖤 He’d never lay a finger on you in front of others, preferring to teach you a lesson at home.

🖤 His particular brand of punishment isn’t entirely unwelcome tho. He’ll spread your legs with his large hands, coaxing you into a trance like state with his tongue and leaving prints along the inside of your thighs as he holds them open to deliver another shattering orgasm.

🖤 The final mark comes from his possessive bite to your thigh, the sting causing you to whimper.

🖤 He’ll soothe it with his warm mouth and gentle words, telling you how much you mean to him. Then he’ll insist you reciprocate.

🖤 And you’ll echo the sentiment back to him in your blissful stupor.

Alfie

🖤 Alfie might seem fearsome to others, but he’s a gentle giant with you.

🖤 You practically have to beg him to choke you and even then, his hold is disappointingly limp. “You can’t hurt me, Alf,” you assure him, but he’s resolute in his decision. “I could tho, dove,” he answers with tears in his eyes.

🖤 He’s far more open to spanking tho, knowing it’s a safe area for impact. He enjoys watching your ass jiggle as he delivers a firm slap.

🖤 When he begins walking with a cane, you are the one to persuade him to strike you with it.

🖤 Tho hesitant at first, he comes around to it when he hears the lovely little gasps of pleasure from your mouth.

🖤 He’ll insist on rubbing the red marks with ointment to care for you tho.

Michael

🖤 Michael is a sadist and your pain is his pleasure.

🖤 He makes it clear to you when you begin dating that he wants full agency over your body.

🖤 He trains you to crave his brutality until you’re practically begging for his hand against your skin.

🖤 He delights in your corruption as well as the breathtaking sight of purple and blue blossoming over your skin.

🖤 And you wear them proudly, knowing you’re his and his alone.

Bonnie

🖤 Bonnie is a gentle soul who only shows his temper in the ring. His opponents are the ones most likely to receive the brunt of his aggression.

🖤 However, the adrenaline pumping thru his veins after a fight often means he takes certain liberties with you.

🖤 Without realizing, he’ll force you down for a fuck while he’s still feeling that high, his hands and mouth clamping down against you possessively.

🖤 It never occurs to him until later that he’s capable of hurting you and he always chastises himself when he sees the damage he’s done.

🖤 He’ll beg forgiveness for the bruises left across your swan like neck, fingertips tracing the pattern lightly until his forehead drops to your collarbone in shame. But you always stroke his hair and whisper words of comfort to assuage his guilt.

———————-

Tag List:

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@call-sign-shark

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@runnning-outof-time

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[moneyonthesideee]

Being Luca Changretta's Wife Headcanons

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader

Word Count: 640 Words, 3379 Characters

Peaky Blinders Masterlist

(A/N): How many people actually want Luca Changretta stuff? It's just me? This is self service? Fucking watch me

You met Luca Changretta in New York, before all his problems started, and before revenge became so important to him.

He wasn’t a saint by any means, but he’d let you in and let you see the man under the tough exterior.

He’d asked you to marry him shortly after you’d started seeing each other.

He was pretty traditional in certain beliefs. Never swore in front of ladies; rarely swore at all. He’d pull out your chair, open your door as you stepped out the car. He held family above all else. He had a provider mentality. He helped with your coat, lit your cigarette for you. He was a nice church-going man.

He was possessive, but not in a juvenile manner. He protected what was his, and you were his, unquestioned.

He was a devoted lover. Behind closed doors, he’d so gently kiss your knuckles, and he’d whisper italian poetry that you never fully understood.

You knew who he was, but initially, it seemed so far away from your doorstep. He tried to keep the job separate from the house. He refused to host the people he deemed ‘too risky’ at your home. If anyone began shop talk at your dinner table, they were fixed with an immediate look. If he ever came home bloody or bruised, he’d first go change and clean up before he greeted you. It made you think he was cheating for a short while, but that misunderstanding got cleared up soon after.

He’d come home one day, shaken to the core. He’d tried to turn away, head to the bedroom to change, clean up, get rid of the blood on his knuckles, get rid of the shirt that really couldn’t be cleaned up at this point. But then he saw you, sitting on the living room sofa, and all his will power left him. He’d collapsed next to you, and before you could even ask what was wrong, he’d buried his face in the safe warmth of your neck. He hadn’t cried. He never cried. But he’d stayed there, so silent and still, for atleast ten minutes. You’d asked him what was wrong once, twice, thrice. Then you just decided to leave him be as you gently carded your fingers through his hair.

After that incident, he was much more lenient about mixing work and home. He wouldn’t ever discuss it in front of you, but work meetings happened at home sometimes now. You hated it but never said anything to him. You should’ve.

You’d learned to make peace with his violence.

He’d always wanted kids, he’d let you know as much. But you’d made it pretty clear from the start; you wouldn’t be bringing a child into this house until it was a proper home, and until you had the reassurance that everytime Luca walked out that door, he’d be walking back in. Luca always promised he’d stop. Just this last job. Just this last meeting. Just this last city. Just this last enemy. It never happened.

When he’d wanted to go to Birmingham, you’d asked him not to. You understood why he needed to, you really did. But still you requested him not to. You didn’t beg, you never did; It would sicken you to do it and sicken him to see it. 

“You know why I have to.”

“Yes, but still I’m asking you. Stay.”

“Why will I stay? Why are you asking me if you understand?”

“I have a bad feeling. That’s enough for you to stay.”

“Not this time, tesoro.”

He refused to let you accompany him either.

The last time you saw him was as he stepped into the car to leave. The last words he spoke to you were, “I won’t be longer than a month and half.” But the silence that followed has lasted ever since.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Lemme know what you think of these headcanons. I'm always open to constructive criticism. I'd really appreciate any feedback, and I wanna hear what y'all thought of it.

Love y'all ♥︎

Toodles ♥︎

Vi ♥︎

[thomashelbyswife]

Tommy Shelby & Luca Changretta - Peaky Blinders

for: anon

[novashelby]

"The Shirt"-Luca Changretta x Reader

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Reader Word Count: 289 Warnings: None Prompt Inspiration Summary: You couldn't possibly be that mad at him...you're wearing his shirt.

Thank you @zablife for playing along. My first Luca fic thanks to you. Hopefully you will enjoy it.

He was looking for that shirt, and there she was, rolling out dough in it in their Italian villa style kitchen. He took the toothpick from his mouth, and pointed to her, “you know, tesoro, you aren’t very good at staying angry…come here.” She continued to ignore him, banging the ball of dough at the counter with increasing aggression. “Ay, ay, ay,” he sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing off the door frame before making his way to her. He could be so…annoying she had thought. “Ah, my sweet honey,” he said in an almost sing-song as his arms wrapped around her waist. He chuckled, “you couldn’t possibly be that mad at me-”

“I don’t know,” she said, jaw tight. “I was kind of imagining your head as I kneaded this bread, but fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, it needs to rest now…get me the olive oil.” With one hand wrapped around her waist, he reached over for it with his longer arm. 

“You can’t hate me that much,” he teased, kissing at her temple. “You are wearing my shirt.”

She lathered some oil on the ball of dough before hanging a cloth over it. Between his tight grasp, she managed to shift herself around to look at him. She playfully tapped his cheek with the oiled hand. “Well, if you’d help with the washing and the hanging, I wouldn’t have to take your clothes-”

“Is this what you are so angry about?” he teased, grabbing her hand and kissing it. The only half amused facial expression confirmed it. “Had I not offered a maid? But you have your control issues…Come here, tesoro, take a break with me upstairs, hm? For you can give me back my shirt, of course.”

[hoesinmysocks]

My Wife ⋆˚꩜｡

Luca Changretta x wife!Reader 🫧⭐️

Content: Luca comes home a little drunk one night craving your touch.

Warnings: Heavy smut! MDNI please!

Masterlist link

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The night was quiet. A subtle breeze was flowing through the bedside window, caressing your face softly as you lay on the bed. Your eyes were shut, but your mind hadn't drifted to sleep yet. You flipped onto your back, a little restless, when suddenly there was a disturbance at the bedroom door. A clawing sound — like someone was scratching against its wooden frame. The handle turned carelessly, and Luca stumbled in, his once-pressed dress shirt now wrinkled and half-unbuttoned, his maroon tie hanging loosely from a lopsided collar.

You groaned and kicked the duvet off yourself, glaring at your fiancé with contempt. This wasn’t the first time Luca had come back home drunk. It wasn’t in his nature to drink heavily, in fact, it was a habit of his father’s that he hated and tried his best to avoid. But when one runs a liquor business, there’s no escaping the occasional nightcap or two, and in this case, maybe ten. And you hate it.

"You're drunk again," you said, almost angrily. Luca raised an eyebrow, nearly tripping over his own foot as he sat down on the couch beside the bed. He looked straight at you with clouded eyes, lips pulled into a taut line like he was holding back a retort.

“You know I hate it when you do this.” You couldn’t conceal your disappointment. For a second, a look of regret flashed across Luca’s face, but it was quickly replaced by that oh-so-familiar emotionless expression. He sighed and pulled off his tie lazily and reached into his trouser pocket, pulling out a metal tin of cigars and placing one in his mouth. You snapped.

“Don’t you fucking smoke that in here,” you growled, jumping up from the bed. You were wearing a simple silk sleep robe with a lacy front; A birthday present from Luca just two months ago. Luca’s breath hitched slightly.

“This isn’t your house, you don’t have any authority over me,” he drawled out. He tried to keep his composure, but there was no mistaking the way his eyes danced across your scantily draped figure.

“I am your wife,” you asserted, “I have every right to decide what goes on under my roof. My name is on the deed of this house as much as yours is.” You took a step closer to where he sat, inhaling the scent of whiskey and tobacco on his body. His legs were spread apart, a hand on his thigh, the other still holding onto the cigar. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find him ravishingly attractive in the dimly lit night. Something about the way the moonlight hit his face, accentuating his cheekbones, highlighting his dark green eyes.

As if a switch suddenly turned in the atmosphere, Luca dropped his cigar and reached out, placing a hand on your bare thigh. You sucked in a breath, not daring to move a muscle as his thumb began to caress your skin. Slowly, Luca lowered himself off the sofa and onto the floor on his knees. Both his hands moulded around your thighs. He pressed a warm kiss on the inside of your right leg, coaxing a small but unmistakable whimper from your lips.

“Luca…” you whispered, digging your hands into his messy hair. He planted a trail of kisses up your thighs, his hands slithering beneath your silk nightgown and cupping your bare ass.

“My wife… my wife…” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He tilted his neck and made eye contact with you. From where he knelt, he was basically eye to eye with your belly button. He pulled you closer until his chest was pressed up against your legs. His fingers snaked their way from behind into your wet folds. You moaned as he began to massage your vulva with one hand, the other kneading your asscheek. Instinctively, you bucked your hips towards his face, desperate for some friction.

Luca hummed and lowered himself to the ground further. He lifted his head and traced his tongue across your slit. You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders for support. It took him no time to find your clit, and he began sucking, occasionally grazing his teeth across it just so he could feel the way you shuddered and moaned. He pushed his middle finger into you, pumping back and forth as his mouth continued to lap up your juices.

“Ohh god… God Luca, yes… Ohhhh…” Your moans were like a sweet symphony to his ears. He hummed, pleased with your reaction, sending a deep vibration up your body. Your slick dribbled down his chin as he continued to curl his fingers deep into you, pushing upwards just a little more every time. His tongue danced eagerly on your clit, occasionally running up and down your folds to get a better taste of your juices. Your legs began to shake, your head thrown back, mouth agape as you shuddered and whined at his touch. “Nggghhh… Luca please. Please. Oh my god…”

Luca strained his eyes upwards to watch your face contort in pure ecstasy. But just as your legs were about to give out, a tell-tale sign that you were close to climaxing, Luca abruptly pulled away and got back up on his feet. You cried out, pained from the sudden absence of stimulation. You almost collapsed to the floor, had Luca not picked you up effortlessly and thrown you onto the bed.

“My wife,” he said lowly, undoing his belt and stripping down to the nude. “You have no idea what it does to me when you call yourself that. Mine. Mine only.”

You were sprawled out on your back, still writhing and craving his touch as you lost your high. Luca slowly crawled on top of you, his penis erect and pulsing. It was wet with precum as he stroked himself once or twice, letting out a soft groan.

“Look at you, so pretty and wet for me.” He bent down, pressing his lips to yours. Then to your cheek, your neck, your collarbones, all while his hand continued to pump his length. “Such a good little girl who doesn’t wear her panties to bed because she knows I’ll take care of her later, no?”

You exhaled, closing your eyes as you felt him fondle your breasts, squeezing and pinching at your nipples. You bit your lower lip. “I need you.”

“Hmmm… what’s that?” He pressed his tip against your entrance, sliding it up and down and up and down. Just the tip. His dick was so hard it hurt, but watching you arch your back and gasp as he pressed his tip against your clit, rubbing it in circles... god it was heavenly.

“I need you Luca, please. Please.” You were desperate. Tears were starting to form in the corners of your eyes as you dug your nails into his shoulders. Your legs wrapped around his lower back instinctively, and you tried to thrust upwards. Luca only smirked and kissed you again.

“You don’t know what it does to me, amore mio. When you take that tone with me. When you bark at me like that. It’s like you know. You know I’d do anything for you. I’m your fucking dog, aren’t I?” Luca pushed his tip into your pussy, teasing you. You bucked your hips upwards, only to have him pull out again.

“Answer me,” he growls. You nodded like your life depended on it.

“Use your words, principessa.”

“Yes Luca. I know. You’re mine. You’re my dog. You’d do anything for me, I know this.” You were breathless just saying that. Your core ached like it had never before. You dug your fingers through his tussled auburn curls, pulling them tight as you brought his face to yours. “Now be a good dog and fuck me properly.”

Luca never needed more assurance than that. He wasted no time and immediately slammed into you, giving you no time to adjust to his size. You cried out, hugging onto his neck as he thrust in and out of you. Every move was accompanied by a low, guttural growl. Beads of sweat trickled down his chest as he held your hips up for a better angle, pounding into you over and over again.

“Luca! Ohhh that feels so good baby…” You whined, eyes shut tight as your pussy gripped his cock. Every time he pressed into you, every time you were stretched out, your back arched a little more and your breath got shallower. The high you lost just minutes ago was slowly building back.

“Feel good? More? You can take more. Amore mio, I know you can take it,” Luca slurred, his Italian accent heavier than ever. He splayed his palm on your lower abdomen and used his thumb to circle around your clit.

You jolted in response. “Ohh! Yes! That's it…” Your brain was going foggy with pleasure as you felt your core tighten. Luca’s whispered words of encouragement into your ears, pushing you more and more to the edge.

He bent down low now, elbows by the side of your head, and kissed your lips hungrily. “You near? You can come. Just tell me, principessa. I’m gonna finish inside you. Is that what you want? Tell me.”

The contact of Luca’s body heat pressed up against your naked body was enough to send you over. You could only manage a yelp as you nodded your head violently. Toes curled, head thrown back, you moaned and came undone as Luca slammed into you one last time. Watching as you rode out your high, clinging onto his back and moaning his name, Luca hissed and came deep inside you. His thick, hot seed filling you to the brim.

Luca pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you. You both lay there for a long time. Breaths heaving and sweat dripping. Neither of you had the energy to say a word, but a silent understanding befell you two as Luca leaned over to kiss your temple. He shifted his body so he could pull you into an embrace, and just as he was about to say something, he heard your gentle snores and steadied breathing. Smiling to himself, Luca closed his eyes and thanked his lucky stars.

[dyns33]

Crossfire 2

Tags : @fancychildmistshake @mariaaaaaaaohmariaaa 

Even being optimistic, Y/N Shelby had thought she was in for a rough time after Luca Changretta entered her hotel room and made it clear he knew who she was.

If he didn't kill her, he could torture her for information, threaten the rest of her family, or take her hostage to force her cousins ​​to back down.

He did none of that.

Calling reception, he had tea and biscuits brought up, inviting her to share them like two friends who hadn't seen each other in years. They didn't talk much, though.

Nervous, Y/N preferred to sip her tea as slowly as possible, while Luca stared at her silently, smoking his cigarette. He reminded her of Tommy at that moment, and if things had been different, perhaps the two men could have gotten along well.

"I'm sorry about your cousin John." he finally said, stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray in the middle of the table.

"You mean sorry that you killed him ?"

"Yes, since it pains you. He deserved it, he chose his fate, but I'm still sorry for those caught in the middle of this without having asked for anything, just as I imagine you're sorry for my brother and my father."

"Oh. right... I heard what happened. It wasn't deserved, for your brother at least. But after his wife's death, I don't think Thomas could have controlled himself any more."

"I hear that. I understand, yes." Luca sighed, taking another cigarette. "If I had a wife I loved and she was killed, I'd massacre the entire town, innocent or not. What are you doing here, Tesoro ?"

Since lying seemed pointless, even dangerous, Y/N simply replied that her cousin had sent her to keep an eye on them, certain that no one would recognize her. She had changed, a little, perhaps even more beautiful than before, but Luca sighed, saying he would have recognized her anywhere. He hadn't forgotten her.

This remark, and the fact that he was furious that Tommy had dragged her into this vendetta, greatly troubled her. While their meeting had made an impression on her, Y/N had never imagined that the feeling could be mutual.

Once she had finished her tea, he escorted her like a gentleman to one of his cars, ordering his men to drive her home and make sure nothing happened to her, or they would suffer the consequences.

Y/N hesitated before calling her cousin to tell him what had happened. Even though he always sensed when someone was lying to him, she couldn't see how to explain to Thomas that she hadn't said anything, absolutely nothing, that could justify her leaving without any trouble.

Not only did he accept her report, but he didn't seem surprised. On the contrary, Thomas sounded satisfied, as if he had always expected things to turn out this way.

"I don't understand, you said no one would recognize me."

"I said nothing would happen to you. Mr. Changretta clearly always had a soft spot for you when he still lived in England."

"... What ? Wait, what ?"

"Don't worry, Y/N. You've done your part, I'll take care of the rest."

She stared at the receiver for several minutes after he had already hung up, wondering if she had understood correctly what her cousin had said. Not only had Luca Changretta liked her when they were children, but it was obvious to many people, especially her family, while she had never had the slightest suspicion.

If she had known this sooner, she could have called him. Sent him a letter. Tried something, even if it had led nowhere. There was even a chance things would have turned out even worse, given how badly her family disapproved of her dating an Italian.

Now, Grace and John were dead. He had sworn to kill every member of the Peaky Blinders. His mother hated the Shelbys for taking her son and husband. There was no future for them.

And knowing all this, Thomas had sent her to his hotel. To hurt him. To taunt him, to tell him he knew. Y/N wondered if her cousin was aware that he had hurt her too by acting this way, or if he had never noticed that she, too, had feelings. He wasn't stupid, but could he be that cruel ?

"Are you going to kill him ?" she asked, trying to maintain a detached expression, knowing full well that he would see right through her no matter what.

"He didn't really give me a choice. Arthur swore to fire the bullet that would go right through his skull. I don't see how this could end any other way than with one of us dead, and I imagine you don't want me dead, dear cousin."

"You know that's not true. But... there can't be a deal ? An eye for an eye, you know ? There have been losses on both sides, why not stop this madness now ? You're good at talking to people."

"As good as I may be, Mr. Changretta doesn't seem inclined to listen to me."

Y/N said nothing. There was nothing to add that would change the situation. She went home to cry and prepare some black clothes. Whatever the outcome, she would need them. If she didn't often speak to Tommy, it was even rarer for her to have any contact with the rest of the family. Seeing Polly Gray at her door could only be bad news, but she couldn't refuse her entry.

Accepting a cup of tea, the Peaky Blinders' aunt scrutinized her, savoring her cigarette, before offering to read her tea leaves. Y/N didn't believe in such things, but she handed her the cup anyway.

"Hmm. Much suffering, much sorrow. Love too. A choice must be made."

"I've already made my choice, Thomas knows that."

"Shh." said Polly, putting a finger to her lips, smiling. "I also see a wedding. The beginning of a new era."

"Who's getting married ? Tom, Michael, Finn ?"

"You are, you sweet, stupid girl."

"... What ? To whom ?" Y/N panicked, imagining the worst.

"Calm down. You need to look more cheerful. It was difficult to convince Arthur. But he understood it was the best thing to do to avoid bloodshed. You'll also have to convince your fiancé."

Without even asking her opinion, Thomas Shelby called Luca Changretta to make him a proposal, a simple proposal, one he would only make once. If he wished, he could marry his cousin Y/N. She wasn't against it, on the contrary, as he might have sensed when he saw her at the hotel, and there was no denying that he wanted it too. It would unite their families, putting an end to the vendetta.

He had to understand that if he said no, then there was a good chance he would die, of course, but if he managed to kill the Peaky Blinders, Y/N would never agree to marry him, true to her kin. He would have to say goodbye to her.

No doubt he'd battled with his mother for hours on the phone, after battling with himself, torn between his love for his family and the love he'd hidden for years for Y/N, a love he couldn't shake, to the point of not being married at his age. The boy in the alley seemed to have won.

"Principessa." he greeted her almost shyly as she accompanied Thomas to a meeting on neutral ground. "I want to hear it from you. If you were forced, not only would there be no wedding, but that asshole you call a cousin would lose his balls as well as his honor."

"How vulgar in front of a lady." Tommy said, lighting his cigarette, detached, already certain he'd gotten what he wanted.

"I know you, Shelby, I imagine you'd be much worse in front of my poor Tesoro. Tell me, Amore, without any fear. I would never hurt you."

"I had hoped... But I was certain it would never happen. If you want me, Luca, I would be happy to marry you."

"Il mio cuore." Luca purred, taking her hand to kiss it.

As there were always tensions, quite understandable, between the Changrettas and the Shelbys, there was a ceremony in England where the groom was accompanied only by his best men and several bodyguards, and a second one in New York with his family. Y/N was accompanied by Michael and Ada.

For many, it was rather sad, even a bad omen, that the wedding took place on a rainy day.

Not for the bride and groom, because, for one thing, her Aunt Polly always said that a rainy wedding was bound to be a happy one. But above all, Luca was able to admire his wife dancing in the rain, not at all worried about getting her dress dirty and laughing like the wild little girl he had fallen in love with.

It was a shame that so many needless deaths had been necessary for them to be together. But life had found its way back, allowing them to welcome little Angel, sweet John, and adorable Victoria.

[snow-flake-writes]

Y’all I watched peaky blinders like a year ago, then this mofo pops into my head and now that’s all I think about

You cannot tell me that you don’t want an Italian-American mob boss to own you, with respect and loyalty, but also a bit controlling???

Like 1920s HEL-LO?!?!

I need a dark romance of this man. And I am very tempted to make it MESELF

[jayden-killer]

The new guest.

Luca Changretta × fem! reader. A/N: a quick note to remind you all that I DO NOT ROMANTICIZE ANY OF THIS! This is just a fanfic, everything is fictional, and I do not support anything in this! This story revolves around the Peaky Blinders' character. That's it. If you wanna scroll, go ahead.

The last rays of sunshine, less charged than the morning ones, hit the beautiful villa overlooking the Gulf of Naples. In that villa, precisely in the most beautiful hall that Don Antonio owned, there were strong notes of tobacco, mixed with the sweat and laughter of the guests. Jazz music was played by a small band, with a fast pace to speed up the dancing. Naples was not an easy city, much less being the granddaughter of a crime boss. Even more so, trying to detach oneself from that environment, to live a life marked by the tranquility... that was difficult to achieve at that moment.

Y/N sat with one leg huddled at the table closest to her uncle, surrounded by her parents. It wasn't hot yet, but every now and then she would move her fan to cool off, or perhaps to chase away the feeling that something was going to happen at any moment.

As if she had predicted it, her uncle approached her, beaming whenever he saw his niece. The man was average in height, with black hair that was quite bushy. Even with this physicality, he managed to wear the best suits in Naples, exceeding everyone's expectations: he never looked unkempt.

“Nipote mia! Come here, bella de' zio.” His large hands rested affectionately on her cheeks, pinching her. Y/N turned up her nose slightly and smiled. He may have been the most feared man in Naples, but he was always her uncle, and he never let anything go. And he had never treated her with contempt.

“Now, I want to introduce you to a really important guest. I'll steal her from you for a second,” so he turned to the girl's parents, who couldn't help but smile with a hint of fear on their lips. Y/N and his uncle crossed, under their arms, the packed hall. Y/N felt a little uncomfortable: the current environment wasn't made for her, but she had to show up those few times to please her uncle.

Many gave her drawn smiles, a sign of respect; others, fleeting greetings.

“Who should you introduce me to, uncle?” she asked, in a low voice.

“He came from America the other day, a man of respect. It's all particular, chist cca…”

“The American?”

“Eh. He has some business to do in Naples, and a deal that he and I have to close,” he laughed, “but don't worry, it's our business! Come, come, that's it!”

On a more secluded side of the room was a table. They sat, like black knights, four well-dressed men, their hats resting on the beautiful tablecloth. They smoked and talked among themselves while sipping liquor in crystal glasses.

“Luca, sorry if I'm coming here another time. I hope you enjoy lunch”.

The man in question, Luca, smiled politely. “All good, Don Antonio”.

“Good, good… Let me introduce you to my niece, the one I was telling you about before. My jewel! Come on, Y/N, he won't eat ya!”

The girl was struck by the man's beauty and elegance. Slowly, he rose from his chair and put his hand to his heart, studying it with satisfaction. Luca was a man in his forties, of ancient beauty. The kind of man you get attracted to as soon as you come across him. He wore the most refined tailored suit she had ever seen, his shoes well-polished, and her black hair pulled back. “Ma che bedda picciotta…” Luca said, without taking his eyes off her. A bejeweled hand took Y/N's, leaving her a hand kiss, without ever breaking eye contact.

She felt overwhelmed: a mysterious energy embraced the man. Dangerous energy, which left curiosity. “A real pleasure to meet you, miss. I'm Luca Changretta”.

“Y/N…" Luca tilted his head to one side. “What an elegant name”. His face was crossed by a grin.

“And my greatest joy. She studies, writes, draws… she's about to graduate too! Bella de’ zio!” He left her a kiss on her cheek, which Y/N couldn't help but smile at in embarrassment. Her gaze fell on the marble floor. “My uncle flatters me too much. He exaggerates”

“But what an exaggeration and exaggeration! The girl is just shy!”

“Your uncle is right, miss. With a girl like that in the family…” Luca interfered, letting his eyes slide across Y/N's face.

“Let's leave Mr. Changretta to his bourbon.”

Before the niece-uncle couple left, Luca took a confident step forward. “If you allow me…I would like to ask permission to treat myself to a dance. With her” His eyes scanned the old man.

Upon hearing those words, young Y/N vented. She tried to figure out if the man was serious, then remembered the context she was in. No jokes. Don Antonio did not have time to react because Luca took the woman's waist with a delicacy that did not seem to belong to him. He guided her to the center of the hall, letting the music guide them in their dance. The man's firm grip made her heart race. It wasn't a love story and never would have been. Luca was not a tragic hero in her novels. Then she wondered if that was the beginning of something that would lead to an escapade.

Y/N shook his tattooed hand, and together they twirled to the sound of the music.

“I had never seen Vesuvius so closely”, Luca interrupted the young woman's thoughts, their hands still firm, their bodies almost touching each other. She could smell the pungent smell of his colony, “and the sea… the sea reminds me of home. My beloved Sicily. However, if I must say…none of this surpasses the beauty in my hands”.

His compliments made the girl blush immediately; she tried to hide her face so as not to show it to her. He noticed him and gave her a mocking smile. “You flatter me.”

“I don't flatter those I don't have to.”

“Then you do it out of respect.”

Luca remained silent, leaving the question hanging in the air. He scanned her face: impassive, he was absentmindedly looking around. Then he brought his eyes back to the woman's, and continued: “Intuitive, I like it. I wouldn't have had any interest if I didn't want to.”

“Cut it short”, she pressed.

Luca smiled mockingly. She felt his hand slide lightly down her entire back, as if he was not paying attention to the glances of others, to how her uncle would, without any problem, stick a bullet between his limbs. Luca brought his lips closer to Y/N's ear, tickling her. The close range made her shiver. “You are very beautiful. And you have class. Anyone who knows how to appreciate it notices it immediately, picciotta. Does it make you sad to dance with me?”

Y/N looked him straight in the eye, unable to hold back a smile. Was she smiling because that man's dangerousness attracted her or because he had been the first to show her interest after all these years?

“At all”.

“Good. It would be a shame if ypu refused a walk along the pier tomorrow. Matteo and Federico, my men, will also be present. Don't blame him for it. They are required to protect me, but they will remain at a safe distance”.

Y/N turned her head towards her uncle, who was still watching them from the nicest table set, puffing on his cigar. Fear ran through her, unwittingly squeezing her fingers around Luca's arm. He understood the instant. The eyes moved equally towards the heavy man.

“Don't think uselessly. Ci parlo iu cu Don Antonio.” She sensed a veiled threat in the last sentence. He doesn't know what would have happened if he had refused. She accepted, leaving Luca with the satisfaction of smiling genuinely.

The two finished their dance shortly after. The Sicilian escorted the girl back to her uncle with a sure step. It was at that very moment that he took his leave, returning to his hitmen. Y/N wondered if she should start digging her own grave. In that world, you don't accept rejections: it can be worth your life. The consequences would, in any case, have been disastrous. She went through the room again and again, not knowing who she was looking for. She looked at her parents' table, now empty-who knows if they were on the terrace smoking-and she felt sorry.

Their little girl had been captured by the claws of a real predator, and the escape route would not be easy.