#hostile tone but i swear im just fooling around

[mikibagels]

re: seeing characters in your head different than canon, i physically cannot picture pucci without thinking of that one drawing you did of him doing his makeup, in canon hes this dangerous villain but in my brain he is yassified, he is slaying, he is absolutely WORKING the aisle between the pews in church.

I did this ONE TIME and it's altered the way you look at Pucci permanently? That says more about you than it does me /lh

Anyway, I now have Enrico Pucci ballroom dancing, duck walking and death dropping looping in my head now. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

[boogiewrites]

Choking On Sapphires 21

Title & Song:  Stand By My Girl

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 2800+

Summary: Genevieve is a force to be reckoned with. An intelligent, independent and brutal businesswoman. She’s been intrigued by Alfie since she met him. But where will she draw the line between business and pleasure now that they are working so closely together? Alfie takes revenge into his own hands.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Fighting. Canon typical violence.

A/N: Every chapter of this story will have a song to work as the title and as a soundtrack. Chapter song is Stand By My Girl by Dan Auerbach.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes and comments feed this artist to write more!

My Masterlist. (Includes Parts 1-20)

He's standing in a side room of the bakery, bottom lip thrust under his mustache, staring at the door to the main warehouse. He's alone before everyone arrives. He's called you, his men have been instructed and now he waits in the quiet hum and ambient noise of the dusty sepia-toned room. He's focused, feet firmly planted, eyes half hidden under a heavy brow. His hand twitched around his pocket watch, anxious for the time to pass so his plans would be complete.

The brother of the smart-mouthed, recently tongueless Italian man you'd murdered at The Garrison had somehow found his way to him. He'd gone into the meeting with the expectation of it being some sort of con but it never came to pass. Therefore, he seized the opportunity to con them instead.

This man wanted you dead for family, the small group of men he ran with wanted you dead because they were paid to. He tells him he was behind the failed hit on you. Alfie nods slowly as the news hits his ears, the devilish smile that came across his face would've made a man with any intelligence flinch and run. But this one, blinded by his own stupidity and revenge wouldn't see Alfie coming until the bullet from the pistol in the drawer was already embedded into his skull. He accepts their proposal, spit in hand, calm distant eyes sending the men away without a suspicion in the world as to his deceit.

So he'd invited you to the warehouse for the evening, sighting he had something he couldn't bring home with him that he wanted to show you, he'd promised it would be a big surprise. He certainly was a man of his word. Even if he had twisted them to suit his needs in this instance. You believe him, and of course, you do. You trust him.

In following through with this plan, he felt a certain line crossed within himself. He was killing more Italians, that would miff Sabini, he was deceiving you by not telling you about the plan, but he needed you to not know so the men tailing you to the bakery would believe the sudden and swift arrest of you from your car was genuine. He had them do it in a location that would allow the men to not be able to reach the warehouse before Alfie would have all the other men killed before they arrived at the same fate. He has a duplicate car pull up slightly ahead of schedule and as the men on the roof steady to aim to take you out as you enter the bakery, Alfie has his men with their own guns in the shadows finish all but one for him.

So here he sits. In the muggy warehouse, staring at the metal double doors waiting, willing his needed outcome to come forth through that door. The man who hired him sits across from him in his office, he turns his face to the other side to the phone on his desk in anticipation, ringed fingers fidgeting in his beard, eyes alert and roaming. It rings, he excuses himself with a nod, putting his feet up on his desk, fingers on his free hand twisting the chain on his glasses as he nods and grunts into the receiver.

You're in custody. You're fine but you're furious. He can hear you screaming in the background, the muffled sounds of a door thudding rhythmically, he's sure your vicious little feet are beating against it in a rage only a scorned woman knows, your hands in cuffs, the pretty dress you'd worn all askew. He informs them in his few, shadow-like words to give you the letter he'd written and make you as comfortable as possible. He hangs up the phone with a nod, hand moving smoothly to his desk drawer as the man looks down the long corridor outside of his office.

Alfie turns to see what he'd needed to carry through on the action he'd just started. Olli comes in, bringing in rum that had been promised earlier with the group's arrival.

"That the call for the kill?" the man asks, looking out towards Ollie as he walks down the long corridor.

"Preemptively, yeah, mate." he responds with a series of nods, pulling the pistol from his drawer and shooting the man in the head, point blank before he even knew what had hit him.

"Well." he sniffs. "'At's 'at, innit it?" he says with a nod, thumbing his nose. "You know what to do wif 'im." he grumbles, pulling on his coat as Olli approaches.

"Where shall I send the barrels, sir?" he asks, taking the gun from his hands.

"I 'ont fuckin' care...Timbuktu?" he says with an annoyed shrug. Grabbing his cane and heading back home to wait for your release.

----------------------------------

As soon as you're out of the station doors you're reminded of how furious you are at his actions. You see Joseph holding the door open to your car as you stomp your way across the street. You stop before you bend to enter the car.

"Did you know about this plan of his, Joseph?" you ask harshly, shaking the previously balled and thrown piece of paper that holds Alfie's excuses, your body language reading hostile.

"No. Absolutely not Miss!" he shakes his head, his eyes wide and apologetic. You hadn't truly suspected him to be in on it, he'd just been available to take your anger out on. "Mr. Solomons sent me to get you as soon he returned back to your estate."

"Take me to the bastard, Joseph." you groan as you pull your dress angrily into the car with you. You sat and stewed in how mad you were the whole ride home. How could he not tell you about this plan that involved you? How could he embarrass you? To allow you to be arrested and treated in such a way? Had you let him forget who you were and what you could do? What sort of man kills to defend you, but won't impart the knowledge of the plans to do so to you?

He's sitting in a turned out chair to be facing you as you enter the dining room. He can tell by the quick trot of your feet that you've not taken to his plan well. He'd expected this and sucks his teeth, followed by a deep breath.  He'd hoped you'd understand his business strategy and take it in stride as part of being involved in business together. But apparently, you'd decided to take this particularly personally. He rises from his chair, head down and waiting for the abuse that was almost guaranteed to occur.

"Alfie!" he hears you screech before the maid even finishes her greeting to you. No Mr. Solomons used in reference to business...he knew you'd taken it all entirely personally.

"In 'ere." he shouts towards the doorway, facing your wrath head-on. He hadn't expected you to come in with this level of intensity after the long drive home but rage seemed like something you were never typically short on.

"Who the fuck do you think you are Alfie Solomons?!" you shout as you appear in full revved up form to be framed by the doorway. You looked a bit worse for wear than he anticipated, his nose flinched just slightly with the feeling of guilt.

"Well ya went and answered ya own question dinnt ya sweetie?" he says, shaking his head in obvious response. He can hear your huff of breath from your side of the room as your shoulders and hips moved in an almost sultry tandem as you stalked towards him, your hands in fists at your sides and slowly rising.

"I am so far past my limit for your smart fucking mouth right now Alfie I swear to God!" you say shoving him with both hands on his shoulders, he moves back slightly.

"Geneveive, calm down, I only did it for your own good now, you can surely see that, yeah?" his face more than annoyed at you laying your hands on him. You didn't care you wanted to tackle him against the wall and choke him with his own cane.

"I don't need you to fix my problems for me, Alfie! And to not TELL ME?" you shout in his face. Your shorter form rising on your tiptoes to press into his personal space, your shoulders squared, hands itching to grab hold of him and hurt him. "It was a consequence of MY OWN actions and you have NO right to interject like this!" you're shaking with anger, embarrassment, your pride was screaming for being assaulted in such a way. You feel like such a fool to have thought that he actually thought of you as an equal. You didn't need him to fit the role of protector for you because you didn't need or want it from him.  

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off, your hand rising to point at his chest.

"You made me look like a fucking FOOL, Alfie! Leaving me in the dark like this?! I'm not some god damned damsel that needs to be fucking saved! Then I was fucking brutalized being put into that fucking police wagon?!" you screech, your body tensing so hard you jolt with the delivery of your words. He looks you over to see the bruises and scratches and tears in your dress to back up your statement, lump in his throat growing. "You don't try to pull the wool over my eyes when I'm the fuckin' WOLF Alfie! I am not some SHEEP to blinded from the harsh realities of our world!" you scream in anger, your face tensing as you do so, hands shaking.

"It weren't nothin' like that, Gen, yeah? They was gonna try to kill you, either way, weren't they? I see now I was wrong to think you'd see it rationally and not take it so personally." he pauses to roll his eyes and take an exasperated breath. Your eyes go even wider somehow, your nostrils flared, your teeth bared.

You can't help that your hand raises back to slap him across the face. The edges of your vision are glowing red as you look at him. That smug, wide-eyed feined innocence to guilt in his defense of himself. He catches your hand by the wrist and his bottom lip disappears under his mustache, sitting under his flared nostrils that exhaled angrily at you.

"Now don't go actin' like a child on top of this fit you're throwing now, eh?" he says, his head dipping down closer to yours to speak with a hiss of anger. You have the thought to hit him with your other hand and as the impulses from your brain shoot down to your fist he reaches out to grab it before it moves, he shakes his head and glares down at you as you struggle mildly in hopes he'd just let you go. You're relieved and annoyed that he's smart enough not to. "Ya gonna go actin' like a little girl everytime I gotta do business with ya and somethin' don't go your way?" he asks with words dripping of condescendence. You don't see any reason not to push back if he's going to continue his avalanche of disrespect.

You're so angry you just elect to make a noise of frustration and butt his forehead with yours, you knock his hat off with the force. "How dare you speak to me like that." your voice is low and heavy as your brow right now,  your face clearly reading hostile towards him.

"Or fuckin' what, Gen, yeah?" he asks, now more animated than he had been. He just uses his grip on your forearms to move your body and shove you away from him. "If ya go 'n hit me, yer only provin' me right, innit ya?" he asks, brushing his shirt off, leaning to reach for his hat that had hit the floor.

You don't think much in the next few seconds. Your muscle memory kicks in and you've tackled Alfie. Slamming against a side table that rested against the wall, knocking off candlesticks and vases of flowers before you take him down to the ground.

"Fuckin' hell, Genevieve!" he gruffs out as he moves to control your arms that are coming at him fast, your hands clawing at his throat to choke him. He uses his larger form to roll you over, pinning your legs down, you manage to get one arm free in the struggle, That one arm desperately grasping the ground above your head, it's met with the cold metal of a candlestick and you swing it at him like you're delivering a right hook and he moves off of you quickly, making the metal hit your tiled floor, cracking it. His eyes move to the chunk of misplaced floor your small but fierce frame has caused with the metal object. "Ya tryin' to fuckin' kill me?" he shouts, his eyes wide but a scoff still in his voice. You're already working on getting up as the object makes its impact, but he's already standing, knowing you aren't going to stop now unless he stopped you first. He knew of a knife you kept in a rather, intimate space on your body, and he knew he had to get it before you remembered you had it. This really wasn't how he'd wanted to get his hands on you.

"You don't deserve death you lying...patronizing...fucking... disappointment of a man!" you growl and pace your words with your movements, as you stand in a fighting stance. You lunge at him again, he spins and grabs you, holding your back against his chest and the constriction of your movements makes you shout and growl out in anger as he lifts your feet off the ground as you kick. "Get off me you fucking mongrel!" you shout and squirm. His forearm slips around your throat. You immediately kick the edge of the table, forcing his back with a hard thud into the wall behind him. Your hands hold a talon-like grip on his forearm, trying to force him away, causing your adrenaline to surge. Your hips are struggling against his, you feel one of his arms loosen and you aren't sure the cause of this for a moment until you feel his forearm grip even tighter around your neck. You squeak out as you feel his hand raising up your skirt. Your eyes are wide and you elect to use one of your hands, previously holding his arm back from restricting your air too much with, against his hand that was now grasping at your inner thighs. Your feet kick back and try to hit him but you're met with the stone of the wall behind him, you hit his legs and this proves to not be enough to deter him. You rasp out his name in hopes to appeal to his emotions, as your nails scratch up the back of his hand as it clumsily searches the apex of your thighs. If your face hadn't been red from the forearm against your throat it would have been now in a mix of intense vulnerability and another wave of rage. You gasp and realize what he's going after too late. His fingers tug the leather strap that sits high up your thigh and hip. You don't have time to dwell on the thought long of figuring out when he'd seen your thigh strap before. You feel the cold metal of his rings, the scratch of the sharp bits of the filigree surrounding the gemstones as his fingers slide in the crease of your squirming thighs, he tugs out the small switchblade-style knife.

You growl at him again, pushing one of your feet against his inner thigh, bringing your hips up enough to kick back and hit him in the general area of his balls. Which was good enough for you as he lets you go. He's doubled over, face just as red as yours, both gasping for breath. You grab his wrist and yank his hand that holds the knife away from him, taking it from him.

"You ever do business that involves me again without consulting me on it and I might just fucking kill you next time!" you shout, pointing at him with the knife still open. His screwed up expression looks to you as he reaches over to hold himself up on the edge of the table. He rests his weight on his elbows, watching you as the plethora of emotions you were feeling plays across your face.  You disappear in the direction of your wing, hiding your face before the tears that were in your eyes fell. He knows better than to chase you for any reason he may have, so he groans and shuffles his way back to his room.

Pt 22 You Should Be Glad You’ve Got A Man

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