Love, A Fan • A Tom Hardy fanfic

1:1

"Oh my god, Stella, you can't put that letter in there," her friends laughed.

Stella was sending out fan mail to her all time celebrity crush, Tom Hardy. She had never sent out mail or letters to celebrities but Tom had infiltrated her dreams and every single thought. She was sending him a shirtless photo of himself for him to autograph and send back, which was pretty typical of what people sent. She was also including an overly embarrassing letter of how she was a fan and he was easily the most attractive person on the planet.
Even as embarassing as it was, what got her friends in a tizzy was the ending.

You've mentioned living in Sheen, not sure if you still do, but my grandmother lives there and in 2 weeks I'll be visiting her. If you feel inclined to meet up with a fan, just to show her around and such, here is my number.

"Yeah, it's super embarrassing but either he calls or he doesn't. If he doesn't, well I can't be embarrassed if I never meet him. And if he does, well fuck me I am never leaving London," Stella explained, as she laughed with her friends.

. . . . .

Stella's grandmother, Lydia, actually lived fairly close to Tom's house, or at least the address she found on the internet. She figured she'd stroll by when she could, just walk to the shops nothing creepy. Of course all the while staring at the windows hoping to find out for sure if it is his house or not.

Catching up and going sightseeing was first on her grandmother's agenda. She was a young 75 and still active with friends and groups. Stella's grandfather had passed 10 years ago that week, she knew her grandmother would like the company.

Stella lounged on the twin bed in the guest room scrolling through her text messages. Her friends were, of course, waiting to tell her what a fool she was for putting that letter in. She thought she wouldn't be embarrassed if he didn't call, which she was 99.9% sure he wouldn't, but of course she would have to answer to her friends for the rest of her life. It'd be a joke at parties, "Hey Stella remember when you gave your number to a celebrity and they didn't call you."

She made sure to include her Instagram handle too in case he wanted to see that she wasn't visibly crazy or to see that she was attractive. Stella did not admit that to her friends though.

A text message beeped across her screen and she jumped up out of the bed. Standing and feeling faint, Stella opened the text from a number that was unknown.

UNKNOWN 3:43PM: How are you liking London?

Stella had a sinking suspicion it was her friends with a fake number trying to get her hopes up. She then wondered if these girls were actually her friends, because the more she thought about it the more they were heartless and judgemental. She went to the bathroom and grabbed a snack that her hands were too shaky to eat, trying to pass some time so she didn't come off as overly eager and desperate. Then again, the letter did already do that, she thought.

STELLA 3:53PM: It's beautiful. So who is this?

UNKNOWN 3:58PM: Only the most attractive person on the planet

STELLA 4:02PM: I get who you're trying to be, but I'm wondering which one of my friends this is...

UNKNOWN 4:07PM: That wouldn't be very nice of your friends, would it?

STELLA 4:10PM: No, definitely not. So how do I know you're not them?

UNKNOWN 4:14PM: Where can we meet? Where are you staying?

Stella's mind raced. Either she would get stood up or it's the real deal. She wanted to die. Well no, she was going to die because her heart would not slow down, she very, very badly wanted to live. She thought of any place nearby but she couldn't even remember anything about the street under this stress.

STELLA 4:19PM: I'm staying with my grandmother, she's on Lorchester Court.

Stella wished she was staying at a hotel, or at least lied that she was. She felt like a teenager again, although her grandmother would let her go out after dark. Lydia was always more liberal than Stella's parents. Even at 27, she knew if she visited her dad and step mom they expected that by 8pm she would be in for the night. If she left once it was dark, they would say that she was being unholy, which in all fairness she was.

UNKNOWN 4:21PM: That's literally around the block from me

Stella's friends did not know his address or that it was less than a mile from his supposed home.

This is probably him. No. It can't be. Why would it be?

STELLA 4:22PM: Then, you know better than me, where can we meet?

UNKNOWN 4:25PM: How about I pick you up?

STELLA 4:26PM: Ok......... it's #17. It's the blue one in the middle of the red brick homes

UNKNOWN 4:27PM: How does 8:30 sound?

Stella could not believe this may really be happening. She had to shower, she had to find something to wear. Do her make up. She couldn't bother calling her friends because there was no time and because she still wasn't sure it wasn't a prank.

STELLA 4:28PM: That works for me. And I swear if this is a prank....

UNKNOWN 4:29PM:

Fuck. That could very well be an old selfie, but one Stella had not seen before that's for sure.

STELLA 4:31PM: Hmmm. That does seem like some good evidence. See you at 8:30 :)

. . . . .

"Grandma," Stella called into the living room. "I'm, uh, going to be going out."

"Oh really now, a date?" Lydia asked, noticing her granddaughter looked quite dolled up for a night in.

"Uh, not a date, but it is with a boy," Stella blushed. "At least. I'm hoping it is."

"With a boy?" Her Grandmother laughed, confused.

"He's an actor that I gave my number to. I'm not sure if it's really him but he's coming to pick me up," Stella showed her the photo he sent.

"Hmm," she took the phone examining the photo.

"Do I look ok?" Stella twirled in a pair of tight black leggings and a thin cream sweater. "I have a long coat to put over it."

"It's cute," Lydia handed Stella the phone back. "He may just be trying to just have sex with you, you know."

"Well yeah, I'm fine with that. He's so fucking hot, right?" Stella checked her long dark hair in the mirror.

"As long as you are fine with that, then have fun," her grandmother watched as Stella sat at an old vanity to do her eyeliner and dark red lipstick.

"God, I am about to throw up," she said. "If my friends are messing with me, I'm going to kill them."

The clock showed 8:40PM and no text or car waiting in the driveway. Stella paced back and forth, her heels feeling heavy on her feet. She debated texting him, but didn't want to seem crazy, so instead she chatted endlessly to her grandmother.

At 8:50 a car finally pulled into the driveway. She looked down at her phone waiting for a text confirmation that it was him. She tapped her foot impatiently.

UNKNOWN 8:51PM: I'm out front, I'm so sorry I'm late