@purplenebulosa asked: Insane for Tommy and Alfie?
this may or may not be partially autobiographical - you’ll never know, you’ll never know o.O this is a modern au
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#26 Insane
Tommy fixated on hobbies very easily.
It didn’t take a lot for him to commit his time and money towards an activity like, crocheting, for example. He would stock up on supplies, print out pages of instructions and designs, watch Youtube tutorial after Youtube tutorial, start on his own creation and then—stop.
Tommy called this behavior ‘coping’—a way to keep his hands busy and his mind focused on something other than the impending doom—and that was fine. That was great.
But the coping never lasted very long.
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It wasn’t necessarily a surprise to Alfie—he had his suspicions even before they started officially dating. He’d noticed on multiple occasions that Tommy would try to hide his multi-colored fingerprints and tuck pleated friendship bracelets under his sleeves, but the true nature of the behavior became apparent once he finally visited Tommy’s home.
There were many things, to put it gently.
Soap-making kits were scattered around the rooms, canvases of finger paintings stuck into crevices, scrapbooking stickers caught in between the couch cushions, and a variety of chia pets lining the windowsills. A particularly grim looking cat stood in the middle among them, dried sprouts hanging off its sides, and its ceramic eyes peering holes into Alfie’s shirt. He shuddered.
“Who’re you playing with, Tom?” he gestured towards the tennis rackets and earned himself a growl. It was a reasonable question to ask—anyone but Tommy Shelby, that is, because Alfie knew well he was playing alone. Bought them on a whim, too prideful to ask anyone to join now, so he slammed balls against the walls. The holes still adorned the plaster in the basement.
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It was not enough to scare Alfie away, though. Alfie was a strong man—he could stomach a few stares from a fake, demonic cat and some stickers on his pant legs.
The truth was, Tommy seemed to enjoy the process of getting a new hobby more than actually investing himself into it. He scoured magazines for ideas, bookmarked websites and tracked his delivery statuses religiously. But it was the TV that proved to be the most dangerous.
Alfie learned that Tommy Shelby loved bad advertisements. Every single time an infomercial popped up on the screen, showing off some new, poorly-made product, Tommy would be writing down the phone number onto his hand or dialing it immediately.
He turned to Alfie one time, hand already hovering above the receiver in the middle of a commercial announcing a new colored pencil assortment which came with a free electric sharpener if you called within the next 15 minutes! “I’m not insane, you know.”
No, but he was getting there.
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This month Tommy was coping with candles—he’d seen a make-it-yourself kit on sale from the original $200.
It was only wax, wicks and some essential oils, without the correct containers. Alfie had warned that it wasn’t even a good fucking deal—he anticipated the purchase before it occurred—but for a reasonable man, Tommy was particularly vulnerable to the toothy smiles of men on TV telling him it’d be the greatest buy of his life.
“Tommy, the man on the screen, right, he does not come with the kit. Mate, please tell me you know that?” The bruise on Alfie’s upper arm had only just begun to fade.
Their kitchen table was trashed three days later—their because Alfie may as well have been living there now, though both of them were too nervous to make any official suggestions.
Alfie stayed away, ate his breakfast on the counter or couch. It was ok, the hobby would only last a few days anyway and he could clean the wax drips on the floor then.
On the second day of creation, Tommy lit a half made candle and held the flame up to Alfie’s nose. “It’s lavender.” He’d never actually shown Alfie anything he’d made—out of embarrassment, and because there never was much to show off—but the scent of candles was meant to be shared.
It didn’t smell like anything at all. The bits of dried lavender that he’d thrown in had caught on fire, masking all other aromas. Yet Tommy was looking at him so innocently, so expectantly, that Alfie couldn’t bring himself to joke. He inhaled deeply and said, “Oh yeah Tommy, am I sensing a bit of honey in there too?” It was all smoke, but he’d seen the scent lying on the table beside the dried bits.
Tommy raised his eyebrows, a small smile tickling the corner of his lips. “Uh—yeah. Yeah there’s honey in there.” And that was the perfect amount of encouragement.
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Candle-making lasted a week. Then a month, a month and a half, two. They were approaching month 3 and Tommy still sat hunched over the table, fingers waxy and smelling of mint or eucalyptus or lemons.
He didn’t consider himself an expert by any means. It was curious, actually, because this was one of the hardest hobbies he’d taken on and even after he’d surpassed his record of focusing on a single task, Tommy was quite sure the candles still didn’t smell at all.
But Alfie—Alfie seemed to love them. He was always guessing the right smell, marveling at the work—even bought Tommy some dyes to add color to the candles now decorating their house. And Tommy was in no rush to point out his own flaws in the creation process, so this hobby turned into a real hobby, as opposed to some 3 day fixation.
Tommy coped and Alfie basked in hundreds of unscented-scented candles.
3, 36, and 47 for your amazing Tommy/Alfie/May? God but I love so very much how you write this marvellous pairing ♥️
3. Who takes longer getting ready?
Thomas, hands down. He’s methodical, and it’s a *process* let me tell you. (He probably also has a skincare routine that rivals May’s).
Because May takes a bit longer than average to get ready too, she is always the one assuring Alfie to just wait a bit longer and both she and Tommy will be sorted at the same time. It’s a lie every damn time too. But May *thinks* it’s not, so Alfie forgives her.
I suspect at least once Alfie has forgotten to put on trousers. An hour later than they were supposed to leave the house Alfie is fuming, pointing at the door and telling them both to hurry their arses *up* as they finally get their coats on. May’s too focused on getting out the door to actually notice, but Tommy very smugly points out that Alfie doesn’t even have trousers on. At that point Alfie very pointedly grabs a random pair from somewhere around the house, puts them on, and makes some comment about how “that wasn’t so hard, yeah? didn’t take a fucking decade off my bloody life, did it?”
By the time they are middle-aged and have worked on improving this frustrating aspect of their relationship, the whole process has been sped up by all of fifteen minutes. It never happens any quicker.
36. Which one is the secret snuggler?
May will snuggle up with anything. She’s a snuggle whore. (She also provides the perfect excuse for Tommy and Alfie to snuggle a bit longer; it’s all May, really. Nothing they’re enjoying just as much. Nope.)
47. Who says I love you first? How did it happen?
May, because she hasn’t the biggest pair of balls between the three of them.
I suspect it goes a bit like this. They’ve been fucking for a couple months. It’s all very loose and undefined, but they’re taking turns spending weekends between their flats. This is not planned, of course, but it keeps *happening*.
The thing is they all really like it. At some point, I think they all expected some jealousy or clear preference to show up, but it doesn’t. And that’s fucking terrifying.
Tommy, he doesn’t give the whole thing any thought. He doesn’t *let* himself when that realization pops into his mind. He’s not going to question something that’s incredibly satisfying so long as he can help it.
Alfie is a lot like Tommy, but the main difference is that he *does* think about it. A lot, really. He doesn’t voice any of his thoughts on the matter because why ruin a good thing.
So it’s up to May to lay it all out there for them. I suspect it’s nearing the end of a weekend sex marathon. And the sex is great, but her head is somewhere else entirely there at the last bit of it. The boys are perfectly content to bask in the afterglow and nap off their post-orgasm haze. But, May, well she gets up to pee afterwards, all wrapped up snug in a blanket, comes back in and just says it, all strong and steady. She loves them. She loves what they have, and she doesn’t want to have to choose because any choice would feel like a loss. It’s all very steely because this is May, chin up and fire in her eyes as if to dare them to Say Some Shit. There’s a bit of awkwardness because neither Tommy or Alfie want to speak first after that to admit that, yeah, maybe they do share the same feelings, but eventually the truth outs itself.
An anon also requested this! :) Thank you two so much! (and also: hi back! :) )
1) unanswered text messages, a crush, a golden sunset
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Modern RomCom AU
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Tommy is a stressed, highly competent businessman. He’s also an older (and occasional younger) brother, a cousin and a single father, none of which help with the “stressed” part. At this point, he makes it through the day with an adventurous mix of prayer, energy drinks and cigarettes.
When he starts hearing ominous knocking sounds and can’t type at night because his hands are shaking too badly, he dimly realises that things aren’t all that good currently. But Tommy Shelby wouldn’t be Tommy Shelby if he would make smart decisions, so he takes a poll and his body’s needs are harshly overruled by his ambitions. It goes on like that until he has a full-blown breakdown at his office, which, sadly, his aunt witnesses. She decides that enough is enough and sends him to Margate for a forced vacation. Needless to say, no one is thrilled.
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For one, he’s needed. He can’t just slip away for a month and expect his family to manage itself. And another thing: Margate is really, really boring.
All Tommy does is smoke (although it’s considerably less than before. Look at that, sea air and less stress do have an effect), read on his balcony and hide from the guy owning the guest house Polly chose for him.
Alfie Solomons has a dog and a passion for cooking, baking and whiskey. That’s about all Tommy knows, but he has a feeling that’s all there is to know. This way or that, he’s terribly irritated by the guy and his oddly friendly behaviour, so when he sees him taking his walks on the beach with his dog (fine, the place has a very nice view over the ocean, he’ll give Polly that), Tommy usually hides in his room, just in case the man decides he has to make conversation.
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Now what happens? I say that one day, there’s an ominous knocking sound and Tommy almost falls out of bed because really? Here?! He thought he’d been relaxing!
But no, no stress-induced paranoia. Just Solomons at his door.
“Well, you see, you are paying for dinner and I’m a little sick of cooking every night and you not even showing up in the dining room.”
“There’s a dining room?”
“Doll, who do you take me for, a fucking amateur? A bad host, is that what you’re saying? Make room, you’re eating this.”
Well, Tommy has no real choice, considering Solomons is right in his space and armed with a tray of hot food.
It turns out to be absolutely delicious, unexpectedly. Probably something fish-related, steamed vegetables, very nicee. Conversation with Alfie is a little odd, but if one ignores the fake flirting and the pet names, it’s not all that terrible.
“And another thing –“ Alfie says at the door, turning back around to look at Tommy. “You could come join me and Cyril some time. Sitting around all day staring at your little pad thing is no way to relax.”
“I’m doing leisurely reading,” Tommy said sourly, but he’s aware he’s already lost.
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For the next few days, they take long walks on the beach and alright, maybe Tommy was wrong. Maybe this is quite enjoyable after all. Especially when Alfie asks him to join him for an evening walk to watch the sunset. The gold bleeding over the waves, then slowly dipping into glittering orange-pink, until sky and ocean are glowing red. Finally, the sun sinks and the first stars glitter on the pale sky, reflected on the waves below.
It’s so beautiful, Tommy is almost upset by it. And when he looks at Alfie to say something sharp and lessen the impact of this kitschy-breath-taking spectacle, Alfie’s face is traced in orange-pink, lashes and beard golden, eyes sparkling. Needless to say, it doesn’t really help lessen the impact.
Maybe he was wrong about a few other things. Maybe Margate isn’t boring.
“Didn’t you mention a new whiskey yesterday? Bring it up to my room.” Maybe Alfie Solomons isn’t all that irritating. And maybe, Tommy thinks as Alfie smiles with that warm look in his eyes and a warm-rough palm on his waist, the flirting wasn’t all that fake.
(When he wakes up the next day, a warm arm around his hip and his face nuzzled in gold-tipped chest hair, there’s no knocking, no shaking hands, no headache. When his phone buzzes on the bedside table, he wraps his arm around Alfie’s waist and sighs, all tension bleeding out of him. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all)
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Late disclaimer: I am extremely picky about RomComs, since most (especially American ones) are too straight to be an enjoyable experience for me, so I have very little to go on, but I tried my best! I felt like this had potential!! :’) Soft cuddles!
“But Wallissa, where’s the crush??” You ask. Let’s just say it takes some dedication to cook meals for the same, lone guest night after night, hoping he’ll show up this time.
Also naturally, Tommy returns to London as a tanner, more relaxed version of himself. Can’t quite stop smiling at his phone, though. Very suspicious.
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Thank you so much for the prompt! I hope you liked this little experiment :’)
Once again on songs that remind me of Alfie/Tommy, 'Ava Adore' by The Smashing Pumpkins. I know the lyrics say 'lovely girl', but I still get that sort of vibe that makes me think of them
“You'll be perfect just like me / You'll be a lover in my bed / And a gun to my head / We must never be apart”. You’ve gone and done it again! I never would’ve thought of this song for them and, feminine pronouns be damned, it really fits. Thank you for sharing this!! I haven’t listened to this tune in years.When are you releasing your full Tommy/Alfie playlist? The people need to know!!
purplenebulosa: crumb coat | tommy/alfie, modern au
i just read this one on the train and i have no bloody idea what kinda of faces i made because this was so hot! Jfc �� love that little banter between Tommy and Grace! and modern baker Alfie? yes, please! ❤️
parlezvoustomhardy:
Cake smut cake smut �� ��
twistedrunes:
Things are getting steamy in the bakery. That Mary Berry line slayed me!
AHAHAHAAHH thank you all for the lovely, sweet, and hilarious feedback! I wrote this story at the end of a VERY long and annoying day because I wanted a little bit of fluffy OTP wallowing so I’m delighted that people are enjoying it, hee
I'm loving your prompts! May I ask 'unforeseen' with those two idiots of Tommy and Alfie? lol, love them
Due to unforeseen circumstances, our partnership has been annulled until further notice. T.S.
Those were the contents of Tommy’s telegram which Alfie had been so excitedly anticipating to read. And yet, instead of some request for a company meeting that had I want to see you encoded within the lines, he had elongated It’s over, fuck you to 12 words, in a typically dramatic, Tommy fashion.
Except this was not the first time that Tommy had called it quits so formally because these things had begun to occur more regularly—at least once a month. Never in person, however, God forbid it happened in person because it was much easier to tell Alfie it wasn’t going to work with a pen and paper as opposed to underneath his daunting stare.
These unforeseen circumstances varied, usually referenced any words or actions that Tommy had let slip out instinctively—entirely normal things for those who allowed themselves to love freely. An uncalculated smile towards something Alfie had said. Brushing an eyelash off of his cheek. Kissing his temple goodnight. His knuckles. Admitting that he had a favorite ring that Alfie wore. That he had once, on one occasion, thought of him outside of their direct encounters.
And yet, these hiatuses never lasted for too long. Alfie admitted to having panicked when he received the first of these notifications. That one had said Upon reviewing the terms of our agreement, it seems there have been some violations which need to be immediately and thoroughly addressed. Anyone else would have wondered for days about what violations Tommy was referencing, but Alfie instantly remembered that Tommy had ‘accidentally’ muttered I quite like doing this in reaction to them reading the paper together in bed.
So Alfie no longer worried—simply rested his feet atop his desk and continued conducting business. Because in a day, or two, or three, Thomas Shelby would arrive at his door and when asked about the message, would claim—each time—that Lizzie must have made a mistake with the address, because he most certainly did not mean to send that to him.
Gosh, I love your headcanons for Tommy/Alfie so much! May I ask another one, 34. Affection? xoxo
thank you! <3 the funny thing is i accidentally started writing one for affection, so this is actually perfect
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They were both affectionate beings, the serenity of being with someone they loved overwhelming them at night. Tommy used very few words, usually unwilling or simply incapable of forming descriptions for the emotions he felt, so he stuck to actions. Almost immediately after the light had faded in the room, he would nuzzle himself into Alfie’s neck, fingers threading into his beard. There would sometimes be an attempt at synchronizing their breathing: Tommy’s approach to uniting them a step further, something which both shocked and warmed Alfie the first time he realized it was happening.
And though Alfie was much more adept with words, he tried to mirror Tommy’s chosen language—to make sure nothing was lost in translation. He’d wrap his arms around the frail frame curled up by his chest, lips pressed against Tommy’s forehead. It was silent, but in the moments where the moonlight peaked out from behind the curtains and illuminated Tommy’s face, groggy eyelids drooping over blue irises—Alfie could not withhold himself. You’re precious, the phrase sparkling in Tommy’s core.
When the sun rose, Tommy’s body hardened back into its familiar shell, but Alfie’s words still rattled within—a constant reminder of what was awaiting him if he could just survive until the next darkness overcame them.
Alfie always had an unusual attachment to Tommy’s hands, oftentimes taking one of them and closing his eyes, running a thumb over the knuckles back and forth in an attempt to memorize the sensation.
Perhaps this was due to the fact that his hands were one of the few aspects which were forced to remain constant. With increased time and prosperity, Tommy’s clothes changed, his home changed, his language changed. Yet the calluses and scars on his hands remained the same—markings which tethered him to his origins in Birmingham, to the version of Tommy that Alfie had first gotten to know.
And Tommy had always been opposed to excessive affection. Firmly believed that having his hands kissed revealed a certain vulnerability which he could not afford to have. Yet his opinion changed considerably upon meeting Alfie. Hand kisses now represented something different—that through the action, for a brief moment Alfie transferred the work and worry Tommy had embedded in his hands onto himself. For a brief moment, Tommy was weightless.
