I’m looking forward to all the male and gender neutral reader fics! It’s really nice to read something without having to mentally change the pronouns and it’s gonna be so brilliant if it’s written by you! No rush or anything with the fics, put yourself first 💙 I hope you’re doing well and thank you for sharing all your writing on here. You’re very talented and checking your blog in the morning for updates makes me so happy!!
it took me all day to reply to this because it absolutely made my day!! i’m so glad my work can bring you some joy.
its really important to me to be as inclusive as possible, and i’m so excited people have requested a couple of male!readers. i can’t wait to work on them.
Relationship status: ummmm single but I’m trying to change that
Favourite colour: burgundy is my love
Lipstick or chapstick: chapstick- lipstick looks awful on me
Three favorite foods: pasta, tomatoes and I LOVEEEEE Danish pastries
Last song I listened to: Tightrope from The Greatest Showman Soundtrack
Last movie I watched: I think it was The Greatest Showman even though that was like a week ago
Top three shows: Shadowhunters, Mock The Week and I just finished watching Hunted and I am obsessed, it’s such a cool concept
Top three favorite bands: 5sos, All Time Low and Twenty One Pilots
Top three favorite artists: My main man Olly Murs, Ed Sheeran and I’m probably going to say Harry Styles
Book I’m currently reading: loooooooool do fanfics count?
Tagging- (if you’ve already done it/dont want to do it pls ignore me) @glynnecarney @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff @fionnstracksuit
Hi lovely. Of course you can. Sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy it:) <3
It had been a long and stressful week for you, Friday had finally made it’s way around and you could taste the weekend. You impatiently tapped your pen against the table, eyes fixated on the clock hanging behind your boss who was giving an incredibly long overview of the achievements your company made this week. Even though you were extremely proud of everything that’s been happening recently with regards to your work, you just wanted to go home to your boyfriend and spend the weekend with him.
As Tom had delivered his last performance as Shane in his successful play, The Ferryman, the week before; you’d assume that he had a lot of free time on his hands. However, he was touring the UK to do promotion for The Last Post, which always tired him out. He’d come home every night and head straight to bed. This was the first weekend you two would have time for one another and you were more than ready to leave your office.
After what seemed like an eternity, your boss let you all leave and he hadn’t seen you move faster in all of your five years of working there. The whole journey home you just scoffed and tutted to yourself because how dare people walk extra slow or take their time, preventing you from being reunited with Tom. You loved London, but it was not pretty during the dreaded rush hour where it seemed to be the breeding ground of rude and ignorant passengers; which today you were sadly in the midst of.
—–
You stepped into the threshold of your apartment, deeply inhaling the aroma that greeted you. You closed your eyes and mumbled excitedly to yourself when you heard Tom singing along to a song on the radio. You felt your heart warm at the thought of him being so close to you. After taking off your shoes and placing them to the side, you slowly walked into the open plan living room and kitchen.
Tom hadn’t notice you walk into the living room, you knew this because he continued to sing. You walked a little further and leaned half your body against the wall, crossing your arms across your chest in the process. He had his back to you, completely unaware of your presence. You admired the way his arms flexed every time he sliced and diced the vegetables. You admired the way he swayed his hips, completely in sync with the rhythm of the music. You admired the way he ran his hands though his thick, fiery ginger hair. You could be here all day listing all the reasons why you admired Tom, but you certainly admired how he looked so glorious in a white t-shirt and grey joggers.
As the beat in the song picked up, Tom picked up the chopping board and placed the vegetables in the pot. Stirring it in, he sang along as his free hand found some spices which he sprinkled in. You bounced off the wall and walked up to him. He was too engrossed in singing and stirring, he almost didn’t notice your arms snaking around his waist and up his chest. Your hands openly resting on them.
Tensing up slightly, Tom held his breath. “Whatcha’ cookin’?” You asked resting your chin on his shoulders, kissing his neck.
“Food.” Tom responded sarcastically.
“Oi.” You say, gently hitting him on the chest. “Why did you stop singing?”
“Huh?” He asked confused.
“I don’t want you to stop. I love your voice.”
“How long have you been standing there for?”
“Long enough my love.” You nuzzled your neck into Tom’s neck and inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of his aftershave. You pecked his neck before pulling away and leaning your back against the wall.
Tom stirred the pot one last time and switched it off. “What, is it done?” You asked shocked at it cooked in a short amount of time. Tom turned around and nodded his head. A smile grew on his face as he recognized the song that had come on the radio. It was your favourite song of all time. He walked towards to you, pulling you into his embrace. His right arm rested on your waist as his left hand took your right hand, you danced like dorks in the middle of the kitchen. He twirled you around, eliciting a giggle from you before you crashed into his chest. Both of you laughing and swaying your hips to the music.
Tom wrapped both his arms around your waist, resting his head on top of yours, humming in delight. “It’s so good to see you love.” He mumbled against your hair.
You pulled away. “Right back atcha. I have a question though.” Tom didn’t say anything, just raising one eyebrow. “Why haven’t you dyed your hair back blonde?”
Tom chuckled. “I just haven’t had the chance to dye it back yet. Also, I love seeing you getting all angsty about the colour of my hair.” Tom smirked. “I know it’s effecting you in ways it shouldn’t.” Tom pulled you in, whispering into your ear. Before he could do anything else, he heard the sizzling of the pot. His head snapped in the direction of the pot.
You rolled your eyes. He always does this. “I thought you turned it off?”
Tom detached himself from you and ran to the cooker opening the lid. “I thought so too.”
“What’s the verdict?”
“It hasn’t burned. Just needs some water.” He flashed you a smile. “You wanted me to burn the veggies so we could order a chinese didn’t yer?”
You scoffed. “Psst. No.”
“Hmm.” Tom placed the lid back on, turned the temperature down and made his way back to you. “I’d like to think as my girl, you’d have a little more faith in my veggie frying skills.” He said as his arms made their way back around your waist, pulling you closely into a tight embrace.
“You’re such a dork.” You muttered into his chest.
“I’m your dork.” He said, placing a kiss on your lips.
Summary: Cracks start to show in the current patriarch of the Collins' household.
Tagging: @you-are-the-first-dream
Previous Chapter Masterlist Next Chapter Gif Credit
So far, Genevieve had been enjoying her time with Jack and Cora. She’d fitted right in with the cleaning schedule and Cora never pushed her into saying anything she didn’t want. Most importantly, today she’d managed to get a letter to her family to tell them she was ok and would be home soon.
Jack however was closed off more recently, almost as if they had swapped personas. He had disappeared at five past four without his coat. Cora and Genevieve knew that it was because he was drinking a lot more now he had access to a bigger supply of whiskey and had stalked off to the pub after a confrontation with his ma. Not wanting to get between them, Genevieve had stayed in her room.
But now it was getting late and Jack hadn’t returned. So in spite of her anxiety, she was now walking towards the local in search of her friend.
The bar was packed with strangers, so tightly that one couldn’t move through the room without bumping into at least five people and getting something spilt down your front. In Genevieve’s case it was four people on the way in and a splash of white wine down her coat.
Slipping past some of the more sober patrons, Genevieve spotted her mark and tapped Jack on the shoulder, “Hello.”
“’S th’ light of me life!” Jack cheered over the rabble. His speech was noticeably slower and more emphasised, like he’d spent hours deciding on what his words were going to be. What were more indicative of his drunken state were his eyes – bloodshot – and his movements – sluggish and sloppy. Not to mention the fact that his nose was bright red and shiny.
Genevieve was a tad surprised. Usually Jack was incredibly bad-tempered before and after a drink. All the physical symptoms were the same. It was just his persona.
“What are you doing?”
“I didnae drown in me Spitfire! But I’ll drown in whiskey!” He held out his glass, spilling some of the whiskey onto the floor. He was grinning with obvious pleasure at his play-on words.
“Ok,” Genevieve took the glass out of his hand, already extremely uncomfortable with the scenario, “Home time, your ma’s waiting.”
“Wha’? Already? But s’happy hour in a bit!” Jack attempted to down the rest of his drink in time for his departure but Genevieve took the glass away, ignoring his childish protests, and dragged him out of the door. He whined the whole way home, clinging to her side and vying for her attention.
As they got through the door, Cora was waiting by the banister with a blank expression on her face. It was more terrifying than any shouting Genevieve had received at the hands of a parent; she shied away from Cora as she stepped up to her son with folded arms.
“I have no words for you but rest assured, I will have plenty for you tomorrow,” She spoke with calm anger.
“Ma! I ‘ave words too! I love you.” Jack beamed at her widely and unaffected by this threat, wiping his feet on the mat obediently.
“Do you want me to get him upstairs?” Cora looked at Genevieve, her face now relaxed in a sympathetic smile, “I really appreciate you going to fetch him. You must be tired.”
“It’s alright, you head upstairs. I’ll sort him out.”
“Oooo, you’ll sort me oooot,” Jack swooned with his over-the-top girly tone, leaning backwards so that, despite facing away from her, he was resting his head against Genevieve’s shoulder. Straightening him up, Genevieve dedicated all energy to helping Jack up the stairs. He tried to help himself but he nearly knocked them both backwards.
Eventually they made it to his room. By that time, Genevieve was too tired for any complex instructions.
“Jack, go get changed.”
“No, I don’ wanna,” He whined, “I wanna dance.”
“You can dance tomorrow. Now you change into your pyjamas and go to bed.”
“I don’ like me jammies.”
Genevieve hid her face in her hand, “Jesus Christ.”
“You can call me Ja-” He prepared to spin around with the rest of his quippy one-liner but lost his balance and landed on the bed. Genuine laughter nearly escaped Genevieve’s chest but she held it in with a stoic face. Then Jack sat up violently and his eyes widened. He made a dash for the bathroom. Genevieve followed in time to see him throw up the contents of his stomach into the bath. Dropping beside him, she rubbed his back.
“Ok, sweetie, it’s gonna be ok,” She ran her fingers through his hair as he clung to the bath’s rim. His gibberish was gone now. Taking the silence that followed as the signal that Jack’s stomach was now empty, Genevieve topped up a glass of water and, with a flannel under his chin, helped Jack drink it.
She was refilling the glass when she heard a small voice say, “I miss Farrier.”
Genevieve looked at his reflection. His hand was over his shoulder and still clinging to the rim of the tub. His glassy eyes stared dully without seeing. Gentle with his face, Genevieve helped him sip the rest of his drink before placing the glass back on the side.
“Come on. Let’s get you ready for bed.”
“I’m a real lightweight,” Jack had a nostalgic smile on his face, “Farrier used to have to carry me back, like you did tonight!”
“That was nice of him,” Genevieve offered him a sympathetic smile
“The two people I love helpin’ me home when I’m pissed. Coincidence or wha’?”
Tensing slightly, Genevieve pulled him up to his feet and moved him back to the bedroom to change him out of his clothes. She managed to get him down to his undershirt and his underwear before he started giggling again but he was already in bed by this point. Genevieve tucked him in as he wriggled into the duvet with a pout. The pout subsided into a goofy grin when Genevieve smoothed the hair off his forehead.
“I do think I love you,” Jack mumbled into the duvet. Genevieve tensed again before speaking.
“I think you’re drunk.”
“I know am drunk,” He lifted his head up, knocking his forehead against hers with a girly giggle, “So, by process of elimination, that means I know I love you!”
“Jack, you’ve known me two weeks,” Genevieve sat up with a frown, “You’re drunk, you won’t remember this, why am I applying logic to this?”
“Because love is illogicalalal!” Jack babbled as he sat up with her.
“That’s… countering your argument. Lie down.”
“I dinnae ken wha’ I’m saying! ’M drunk! I shan’t!”
With a sigh, Genevieve straightened out the covers again as Jack stuck his arms out and met her annoyed stare with a face of shining innocence. She stood to leave but Jack grabbed her hand and tugged it.
“Please stay,” He said, his bottom lip quivering, his eyes impossibly wide with begging. In no mood to argue, Genevieve sat beside him to pull off her socks. Eagerly, Jack patted the side of his bed where she lay down on her back with no intention of falling asleep. After moving one of his pillows into the centre of the bed, he rolled onto his side and stared at her.
Without looking at him, Genevieve told him, “Close your eyes, Jack.” She watched at the ceiling, following the winding crack along to the wall where the white paint flaked and fluttered to the floor.
“Do you hate me?”
Frowning, Genevieve turned her head to face Jack with his big blue eyes still on her, “No, I don’t. Where did you get that idea from?”
“I dinnae ken. ’Ve been grumpy all week and I made you go in a bar to get me and I know you dinnae like ‘em,” Jack snuggled into his blankets, “I don’ want you to hate me.”
“I swear you’re going through the seven stages of grief,” Genevieve raised an eyebrow with a smile – the first of the evening.
He gave a throaty stuttering laugh, “You’re funny, Genevieve, and so pretty when you smile.” He reached a clumsy hand out and grazed her cheek. So as not to insult him, Genevieve restrained her recoil, opting instead to ease away from his touch. Jack nodded, as if he understood, flopping his arm on top of the pillow – a respectable distance from her. Drunk Jack truly was a rollercoaster of emotions.
“Come on, Jack. Time for sleep,” Genevieve coaxed softly. Moving his head, Jack nestled into the pillows with a mumble before drifting off.
Genevieve felt odd keeping watch on Jack as he slept. It was weird to stare at someone, regardless of scenario, so him passed out was not high on the list of acceptable things to do. He did look beautiful though, peaceful for once. With his head propped up on the pillow, he was vaguely reminiscent of a cherub asleep on a cloud.
Her mind drifted to what he had said, more specifically what he had said about Farrier. Could she…?
Drool started to dribble out of his mouth. Using the blanket, Genevieve gently wiped his mouth clean whilst managing not to groan at him. Retracting her hand, she carefully got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Unsure of how bad his morning was going to be, she rooted around for an aspirin in the bathroom cupboards. She retrieved the last one in the bottle. They would have to go shopping tomorrow.
Jack was writhing about in his sleep, trying to find a more comfortable spot. He settled with a snore as Genevieve placed the aspirin with his newly topped up glass of water. She left the room with barely a creak of the floorboards to alert Jack of her absence.
AN: Oooooo spicy shit is going down and we're only halfway through the fic! Also, just imagine Jack staring at you with completely drunk adoration. I would probably melt.
Hey, do you have any favourite blogs that write for Tom Glynn- Carney? Because I know there aren’t like loads and I’m looking for some good ones :) xxx
Yes, sure thing my love! If you ever want anything from me, just request and I’ll try my best! Also, check my recs tag or my liked page
My ultimate favourite writers for Tom, are Ash @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff and Danielle @glynnecarney They both write absolutely fantastic pieces
Then other writers I know of who will write for Tom are @outofworkactress @lowdenglynnstyles @fionnglynnjackstyles @platinumshawnn @lowdenlowden @tomgcsglasses
and I can’t think of anyone else on the top of my head but like this post if you write for Tom GC and I will check you out (sorry if i missed you)
(also, in some cases, you can read Tom Holland fics and pretend you don’t see the name Holland and ignore descriptions- it works for me)
