The Article (Tom Hardy x reader)
Warnings: brief mention of overdose
Summary: Tom is away at work and hears new of a fake article citing your death
It was no secret that Tom had been spending his days working into the night and falling asleep in his actor’s trailer. Luckily, his movie was being shot only an hour from your shared apartment, but he never seemed to get a break long enough to travel back home.
The media were having a field day. The famously romantic Tom Hardy and his beautiful wife, (Y/n) (Y/l/n), weren’t sleeping in the same house anymore. Could there be another celebrity divorce on the horizon waiting to be the next headline?In truth, your relationship
struggling slightly. It wasn’t either of your faults, but his busy schedule and your increasing inability to do much because of your pregnancy meant that dates were shared over Skype, and evenings were spent alone.He felt guilty. He’d expressed so every phone call you’d had with him. You knew that he loved you more than ever, and maybe it was your raging hormones but you loved him more each day.Tom had woken up, your smile behind his eyes as they fluttered open, your beautiful laugh ringing in his ears. He hadn’t been home in days. He missed you like a madman, but his director was a perfectionist and needed takes to be absolutely flawless. So he’d worked himself to sleep the last few weeks, finding it increasingly difficult to find the time to call you, much less drive over. In fact, he hadn’t heard your voice in a week. He was desperate to, but knew if he tried it would have to be early in the morning or late at night, and you needed your rest. You were sleeping for two, after all.He got up, changing quickly and heading to the shoot as fast as he could in his exhausted state. He noticed that his coworkers were staring at him more than usual, and did a double take to make sure he hadn’t forgotten to put on pants in his sleep deprived haze.It was only when he was sitting with his laptop, memorizing the scene he was about to shoot when a coworker finally approached him.“Tom,” Cillian Murphy started, voice hesitant, “have you seen the article? About (Y/n)?” Tom ran a hand through his hair.“Article? I swear to God. If it’s another one of those bloody accusations that we’re separating, I’m gonna find the publisher and stick the article so far up his-““No,” Cillian began, voice whispered and solemn, “there was one published last night that said - Tom, it said she’d died.”
Tom’s heart dropped, fingers moving of their own accord to Google your name as fast as he could.
“(Y/n) Hardy found dead in London apartment amid rumors of divorce.”Tears welled in Tom’s eyes as his shaky hands threaded through his hair.He didn’t want to read the article. But he found himself scanning it anyway, jaw clenched. It said you’d overdosed on pills - they weren’t sure if it was intentional or not. He threw his laptop to the side, hands pulling at his phone and dialing your number.It rang once, twice, three times.“Hey! It’s (Y/n)! Leave your message at the beep!”You hadn’t picked up.Tom screamed in frustration, throwing his hands down and stepping away from the table.“Cillian I’m-““Go.”*****Tom was sure it was just another fake claim to get views on a report. It had happened multiple times to him, all ending with you laughing off the accusations and telling your followers that he was alive and well. But they’d never been about you. You were a famous actress and model, but had a reputation of being strong and unafraid to stand up to others. No media outlet would target you for a fake story.
So he sat, teeth grinding, knuckles white as he sped home, tears threatening to spill as he left the seventeenth consecutive message on your cell, hoping, praying that you were okay.
*****You had just gotten up, a frown on your face as you realized that Tom hadn’t come home another night. Your dog, Buster, nuzzled your hand in a demand to be fed. You smiled slightly, scratching him behind the ears, before hauling yourself off of the bed and getting up to make breakfast. Your feet and back were killing you. This baby was surely Tom’s, with the amount you needed to eat to stop from being hungry and the amount of sleep you seemed to need recently. You smiled softly, hands rubbing your swollen belly gently.You reached to turn on some music, before realizing that your phone was out of battery. A softly frustrated sigh came from your mouth. These days, you forgot to do something as easy as plug your phone in for the night. This baby was draining the intelligence right out of you.
The phone charger was upstairs, and the act of lugging your body back upstairs made you wrinkle your face in disgust, so you shrugged, humming your own music as you got to work cooking.
The pancake batter was on the stove, heating to prepare another delicious breakfast you wouldn’t share with your husband. A sigh escaped your mouth as you set your head in your hands. Being without Tom was so, so difficult. Not just physically - you were strong enough to be capable of life without him in that way, but emotionally. Mentally. He had been through it all with you for so long. You’d managed to keep your relationship secret even under the pressure and the rumors and the fake claims you were both in relationships with other people. Then, once public and after he had asked you to marry him on a beach front in Hawaii, you’d dealt with countless accusations of affairs, pressure from the press, protective fans, everything.
He’d been with you through thick and thin, till death and beyond would you part. You smiled at the thought, nostalgic memories of nights in Paris and Hawaii and days spent in London, hopping on buses you didn’t know the destination of. With Tom, everywhere was paradise.
You lifted your head in confusion. No visitors were expected today - not even Tom, with his busy work schedule.You turned the heat down on the stove, just in case you spent too much time answering the door.There were several frantic, loud knocks before you reached the front door. They continued even as you lifted the lock and turned the doorknob.Tom was standing at the door, eyes wild and hair messed from the countless times he’d pulled at it. For the split second you got to see his face you noticed that he looked tired and upset. Bags were under his eyes and tears were pooling in the beautiful, blue-green eyes you’d fallen in love with.“Tom?” You managed to breathe out, before he was suddenly hugging you, pulling you as close as he could without pushing on your stomach. His arms pulled you closer, head burrowing into your neck. You could feel hot tears on your skin, the shaking breaths he was breathing.It took a moment for you to understand what was happening, and then your arms were pulling him close too, a hand reaching up to comb through his hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You asked softly, as though saying it louder would cause him to break more. He responded by bringing his hands up to stroke down your back, before pulling away. He wiped his tears away angrily, running a hand through his hair.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He asked in a shaky whisper.
“I’m sorry, I forgot to charge it last night and the charger is all the way upstairs, and stairs are hard when -“ He cut you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. You smiled against his lips before he pulled away, taking your cheeks in his hands and pressing another kiss to your forehead. “What was that for?” You asked when he pulled away and turned to shut the door. “Just miss you, is all.” “I miss you too, Tom, but you looked like you’d seen a ghost when I opened that door.”He turned to you, then, a sigh falling from his lips. “There was one of those fake news articles, about you dying. And, and when you didn’t answer your phone, I just-“ he stopped mid sentence, his habit of pulling at his hair in distress taking over again. Your hand reached out, grabbing around his wrist and pulling his hand away from his distressed habit. “Baby, I’m fine. Look, we’re both fine,” you gestured to your stomach, a soft smile on your face. He smiled back, unshed tears still swimming in his peripheral. Her turned away, then, spinning on his heel to walk back to his car. Confusion and hurt spun through your head as you followed him. “Wait, Tom, you’re just leaving me now?”He turned his head to speak to you while opening the passenger door to his car.
“Leaving you?” He spun back around, phone in hand.
“Love, I’d never leave you. Just getting my phone. Reckon I should call the producers to tell them I’m taking a week off. But don’t you think I’ll ever, ever leave your side again.“
2087
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