A C T O R S || OS

25. Tom Hiddleston | Worst Nightmare

By : just-the-hiddles | Tumblr 

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 788

Warnings: implied violence, blood, pregnancy

Tom had hurried home from his rehearsals that evening. It was normal for you to not answer his calls, what with taking care of their infant son Henry. But you almost always answered his text messages. So when you hadn't answered after several hours, Tom had made his excuses to leave an hour earlier than normal.

The streets were slick with the rain, a typical London night. The car felt to be moving at a snail's pace. Finally, the car pulled up in front of your home. Tom hustled up the steps and struggled to put his keys into the latch when he noticed the door was ajar. In a panic, Tom stepped into the doorway and heard the cries of Henry.

He took the stairs two at a time, with little regard of his own safety.

"Y/N! Y/N!" he yelled as he entered the nursery.

You were not there but Henry was standing in his crib, red-faced. Tom walked to comfort him.

"Shh... It's okay, bub," Tom took his son in his arms. "Shh, let's go find Mom."

As Tom rocked Henry back and forth, the child stopped crying. By the weight of his bottom, Henry had soiled his diaper. This was so unlike you. You were so meticulous, insisting that Tom only feed Henry particular brands of baby food and no sweets until Henry was one-year-old, although Tom broke that rule when you traveled out of town.

Tom hurried from room to room upstairs, there was no sign of you, but he noticed the drawers in the master bedroom opened and picked through as though you were searching for something. Afraid of the worst scenario running through his head, Tom headed downstairs, holding Henry tight. He found you in the kitchen.

The sight was horrific. There was dark blood pooling underneath your temple. Tom ran out of the room with Henry and placed him down in a playpen.

"I will be right back, bub."

Tom ran back to the kitchen and slid down to the floor to cradle your head. There were bruises over your entire body. Tom fumbled through his pocket until he located his mobile. With trembling fingers, he dialed emergency.

"I need an ambulance here at once."

Tom's voice was shaking and tears were welling in his eyes. He gave the address and stayed on the line as he attempted to give as much information about your condition to the person on the phone.

Emergency personnel arrived in approximately 10 minutes and tried to stabilize you. Tom stepped off to the side, oblivious to the blood on his hands and clothing. As the EMTs hooked you to their machinery, Tom saw your heartbeat flatline.

"No.. No, NO!" Tom yelled as they wheeled you to the ambulance with grim looks on their faces.

***

Tom shot up in bed. He was in a flop sweat and huffing. In a panic, he reached over to your side of the bed and is comforted to find you lying on your side, breathing even and heavy. Tom took several deep breaths to slow his own breathing and wiped the beads of sweat forming on his brow. Rolling over on his side, he cuddled against your back, sliding his around your waist with his hand falling on your swollen pregnant belly.

The action stirred you from your slumber and you rolled to face him.

"What's wrong," you asked groggy, not even bothering to open your eyes.

"Nothing, darling," Tom lied as he pulled you tighter into a hug.

"Are you sure? Is this about the premiere tomorrow?"

Tom contemplated the question for a moment.

"I guess and I know you don't want to attend, but I really think you should come. I don't want you alone in this house at night."

You gave Tom a small smile.

"I love how you worry about me and this little one," you rubbed your stomach, "If it means that much to you, I will go, but I make no promises of not falling asleep."

Your agreement calmed Tom's mind, and he placed a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you."

You rolled back over to go to sleep, but Tom had one more idea.

"Darling?" he whispered in your ear.

"Yes, Tom?"

"I think we should name the baby Henry."

You looked at Tom, confused.

"Can we talk about this in the morning? You know, when I am coherent and conscious?"

"Of course."

The two of you settled down into the mattress and the two of you drifted back to sleep, each dreaming of a little boy with the hair of his dad and eyes just like his mother.