Tom Hardy Character Imagines

Love Unexpected (Part One)- Tuck Hansen x OFC

Jen hated the playground. There was never anywhere to sit and it was always so noisy. Then there were the cliques of moms; the perfect Pinterest ones who never struggled breastfeeding, made their own baby purée and never fed their kids sugar. The ones whose children were always immaculately dressed and had appallingly polite manners but then would go and pinch another kid when no one could see and then feign ignorance when they would cry to their mothers about being hurt by "that naughty child over there".

Sipping her coffee, she wished there was a shot of anything in it that would make this whole afternoon more bearable. The rucksack on her back with picnic food for lunchtime was heavy and from behind her sunglasses she could see one of the aforementioned moms taking in her messy bun and leggings with a small bleach mark on with disgust.

"They're quite scary aren't they?" an amused voice commented from beside her, the accent unmistakably British and clearly very out of place here.

She turned and she swore that a thunderbolt from the heavens struck her ovaries and made her lady garden clench at just how disgustingly delectable Mr Brit was. Even with her sunglasses on she could see his eyes were piercing blue but it was his smile that was threatening to blind her. It was nothing short of dazzling; impish almost with teeth that were white and slightly crooked, which somehow only added to how imperfectly perfect he was. His jeans looked expensive, probably designer, just like his crisp blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow. It was hardly playground attire but god damn was it a million times better than the dad on the climbing frame with his ass crack showing thanks to his loose sweatpants.

Jen was suddenly very aware of just how dishevelled and, well, cheap, she looked in her shitty leggings and faded Friends t-shirt that she'd had for years. Thank God she had her glasses on so he couldn't see her face properly because even with the tiny slick of mascara she had on, she definitely was nowhere near the standard of women this guy probably cared for. Not that she wanted him to care whether she was hot or not because she didn't give a rat's ass about guys. Not any more.

"Oh god," he grimaced, mistaking her stunned silence for disapproval at his comment. "They're not friends of yours, are they?"

"What the Bitch Brigade?" she smirked, "I'd rather be friends with Jack the Ripper."

He laughed; a sort of high pitched wheeze that was more like a giggle and somehow seemed out of place coming from someone as masculine as him. Jen couldn't help but laugh with him which only drew another look of disapproval from the Stepford Wives at the picnic table behind them.

"I'm Tuck," he held out a hand.

"Jen," she shook it, trying not to faint when his warm hand touched hers.

"So you're here with your kids?"

"Kid," she corrected, looking around for her six year old daughter, Elsie and smiling when she saw her climbing to the top of the climbing frame without any fear or trepidation. "What about you?"

"Oh no, I don't have any kids," Tuck shook his head, putting his hand in his pockets. "I just like watching other people's kids."

It was only after a few moments of holding a serious expression that he burst out laughing and pointed out a boy around Elsie's age on the swings.

"That's mine over there."

"Thank God," Jen breathed out a sigh of relief, brushing a loose wisp of hair behind her ear. "I was about to call the police on you."

"Sorry," he smiled, noticing that the hand she had used to tidy up her hair didn't have a ring on it. "I just couldn't resist. It's that dodgy British humour of mine; often gets me into trouble."