Behind the scenes (Tom Hiddleston x reader)

Coffeeshop

From the outside it looked quite small but when I looked through the window I saw that there is more space for people than I imagined.

With a deep breath, I pushed the beautiful dark, wooden door open and stepped inside.

The cozy space was adorned with an array of mismatched furniture that seemed to have been collected over decades. Vintage leather armchairs with weathered patina nestled beside brightly painted wooden chairs. The tables were a patchwork of sizes and styles, each bearing the scars of countless coffee rings and creative conversations.

Overhead, pendant lights with antique brass finishes cast a warm, cozy and inviting glow. They dangled from the ceiling at varying heights, adding a touch of whimsy to the decor. The walls were filled with a diverse collection of artwork—paintings, sketches, and photographs—contributed by local artists and customers alike.

These impressive art pieces formed a colorful tapestry of creativity, telling stories of the countless souls who had been looking for ideas and inspiration within these walls.

The whole atmosphere was alive with a soft hum of various conversations. I joined the line that snaked its way to the counter and glanced at the chalkboard menu right above me. As I waited in the line, I couldn't help but eavesdrop on the snippets of chatter around me.

A group of students, who are about my age, sitting at a nearby table and discussing hectically  the latest film they'd seen. Their voices were filled with excitement, joy and laughter.

A young couple by the window was engaged in a quiet, intimate conversation, their eyes locked in a moment of shared connection.

In the corner, a solitary writer scribbled furiously in a well-worn notebook, occasionally pausing to take a contemplative sip of their coffee.

Near the entrance, a barista engaged in friendly banter with a regular customer, their laughter ringing out like a secret shared between friends.

The waiting line itself was a mosaic of characters, each with their own story to tell. A businessman in a sharp suit tapped away on his phone, probably juggling emails and appointments.
A young mother with a stroller held a lively conversation with an elderly gentleman, a heartwarming exchange of generations. Behind me was a group of friends, debated the merits of different pastry choices, their animated discussion punctuated by playful teasing.

All around me, people from diverse walks of life had converged in this small coffee shop, forming a tapestry of humanity. It was a place where strangers became neighbors, where conversations flowed like a gentle stream, and where, for a fleeting moment, the world outside faded into the background.

"I'll have a cappuccino, please," I cheered when it was finally my turn to order. The barista, a young woman with a vibrant smile and long blond hair, nodded and got to work, expertly frothing milk and pulling a shot of espresso.

While I was waited for her drink, I scanned the room for an empty seat. The place was indeed crowded, but I noticed a small inviting corner by the window. There he stood, a well worn but comfortable-looking armchair and a small wooden table seems to awaits me. With my steaming hot and delicious smelling cappuccino in hand, I navigated through the labyrinth of tables and chairs.

As I settled into the cozy corner, I began to sip on my cappuccino. The first taste sending a delightful shiver down her spine. It already smelled like heaven, but it tastes even better.

I took in my surroundings—the mismatched chairs, the eclectic artwork on the walls, and the gentle buzz of conversation that enveloped me. This feeling that this shop gave me was enough to get my mind a creative spark.

I decided to pull out my notebook and pen. It's my favorite companions for collecting thoughts and inspiration. I always carried these to essentials with me because I tent to get creative when I'm somewhere new, or in situations where normal people don't have something to write with them.

With each stroke of my pen I felt myself sinking deeper into a creative trance, with my mind drifting to the stories and ideas I have been noting down during my studies, the subway ride or in the grocery store.

Time seemed to stand still in that small, crowded coffee shop. I lost myself in the world of my deep thoughts and dreams. From time to time I would occasionally glance out the window at the city that never slept. It was as if I had stumbled upon a hidden oasis in the heart of New York, a place where serendipity had led her to a moment of peace and inspiration.

Little did I know that this chance encounter with "Java Junction" would become a cherished memory. It's a place where I would return time to find peace, inspiration, and the occasional perfect cappuccino.

In the midst of the city's chaos, I had found my own little sanctuary, a home away from home.