Thomas Hewitt x Reader | Coffee Shop AU
I did the big cliche, but I really needed to get this idea out of my head. Also, there is not enough Thomas content, and that needs to be remedied, somehow, even if it’s my garbage writing.
You’d heard that the coffee at Luda Mae’s coffee shop was amazing, and that the desserts were even better. A colleague of yours swore by the tea cakes, having to buy one every week to curb his growing addiction to them. Word was that the place had a coffee brew that was so silky and smooth it could soften even the stalest of cookies.
You finally agreed to give it a try after your colleague brought it up for the billionth time, only to have your shoulders grabbed and your face pulled mere inches away from his. Staring you down with a gaze that could frighten even the strongest military men, he told you to never go on on Wednesdays. He did not elaborate further when you asked him why.
And yet, you found yourself gazing up at the old, painted sign of the coffee shop, soaking wet from the pouring rain, on Wednesday.
Cold from the wind, you dragged yourself up the steps and into the shop. Immediately, the warm scent of coffee beans and baked goods filled your nostrils, as a small bell jingled to announce your arrival. Soft country music filled the small space, dimly and warmly lit, creating a cozy and comfortable space.
The lack of customers was surprising to you, and you couldn’t help the feeling of apprehension settling in your gut. As cozy as the atmosphere was, there was a tension present that was very out of place. Walking forward, mindful to wipe your dripping shoes off on the mat, you glanced towards the front of the shop.
“Hello?” You asked softly, seeing no one at the counter.
A couple of loud clinks in a back room reached your ears, and then several thudding footsteps. A door behind the counter swung open, and your eyes widened. The man who walked out was enormous, barely fitting through the door frame, and his lower face was obscured by a crudely sewn leather mask. His hair was a bit of a mess, pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and partially falling around his face. There were coffee stains all over his shirt and apron, staining parts of the green fabric a dull brown.
He paused upon seeing you, blue eyes widening ever so slightly as though shocked to see you at all, but then he simply wiped his hands off on his apron and walked up to the counter. When he stood there and said nothing, you assumed he was waiting for you to order.
“U-uh…I’ll just have a plain coffee…m-medium.”
The man nodded once and then went to work, grabbing a cup and filling it with coffee. He spilled coffee on his hand almost immediately, wiping it off with a sharp intake of breath. He glanced back at you, as if waiting for you to judge him, but you just gave him an encouraging smile. Blinking, he turned back to his work, glancing back every now and then.
You took the opportunity to admire the muscles of his back while he was turned, wondering how much strength was hiding beneath them. His hair looked so thick and soft, and your fingers itched to run through it. You wondered why he wore the mask. Was it for health reasons, or was it a style choice?
You jumped when you realized he was staring at you, gaze pointed as if he’d asked a question. Your face grew hot as you tried to stop feeling so flustered.
He pointed to the sign above him, directly at the types of milk they offered.
“Oh, just regular, please. With sugar too.”
The man crouched down and grabbed a pitcher of milk, glancing back at you once with a strange look in his blue eyes. He finished it up with a couple of teaspoons of sugar, stirring it up like he’d done it hundreds of times before, and then popped a lid on it. Turning around, he placed the coffee cup on the counter in front of you, seemingly small in his large hands, and pulled up the price on the cash register.
You swallowed, noting your height difference now that he was a bit closer, and your heart skipped a beat when he looked down at you.
Blinking twice you laughed nervously, “Right, I guess I need to pay you, don’t I?”
He didn’t answer, but did tilt his head curiously. His gaze didn’t leave you as you fumbled around for some change.
He took your money in an iron grip, counting it and then pulling out some change. His fingers brushed your palm as he dropped some dimes and a nickel, and you couldn’t help the way your breath hitched. Hearing it, he snatched his hand back as if burned, and stared at you with wide eyes.
“T-Thank you!” You stammered out, your face burning as you practically ran out of the shop.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
When you bragged about the delicious coffee you’d snagged at Luda Mae’s to your colleagues, you’d accidentally let it slip that you’d gone on a Wednesday. Immediately, you were inundated with strange questions, like “did you see him?” or “Isn’t he scary?”. Not long after, they began talking about the rumors they’d heard about him. You learned that apparently this man was not well-accepted.
“He’s clearly unstable. His arms have scars all over them.”
“Someone told me they saw him beating up a guy in the alley behind the shop.”
“I heard that the mask he wears is made out of human skin.”
The last one, in your opinion, was the most ridiculous, and nothing they said stopped you from fantasizing about him and the way he’d towered over you - his blue eyes burning into yours. You couldn’t understand why everyone was so afraid of him - the mere idea of him was addicting.
You lasted a day before showing back up on the front step of Luda Mae’s Coffee Shop.
When you crossed the threshold, the atmosphere of the shop was so different you nearly had whiplash. It was bustling with customers, some waiting in line and others sitting at tables.
There was a middle aged woman pouring coffee into cups, and a middle aged man working at the register.
“Mama! One large coffee and a slice of lemon cake!”
“There ain’t no need to yell, Charlie, for heaven’s sake!”
You looked around the place with intent, disappointed when you couldn’t find the man from Wednesday. You were so focused on your disappointment that you jumped when the man at the register snapped his fingers in your face.
“Hello? Anyone home?” He practically spat in your face. “I ain’t got all day!”
“Oh, gosh I’m sorry! I u-uh…”
The man raised an eyebrow and made a show of leaning on his elbows, unimpressed.
“…Um, I’ll just have a regular coffee, thanks. With regular milk and sugar. Medium.”
“You get that, mama?” the man yelled back to the woman behind him while he rang up the bill.
“I’m right behind you! Quit yellin’ in my ear!”
You waited slightly off to the side to let other customers order, and awkwardly glanced around. There was no sign of the man anywhere, and you inwardly pouted.
“Here ya are. One regular coffee.” The woman handed the cup to you with a quick smile.
“Thank you! Oh…um, can I ask you something?”
“We’re not lookin’ to hire.”
“No, no, I was just wondering…when does that man work? The one with the mask?”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and the man up front glanced in your direction. They were the only two staring, and yet you felt like the entire shop had its eyes on you. You had a feeling that your next words should be chosen very carefully.
You played with the lid on the cup and shifted on your feet, “I j-just…”
You cut yourself off when the door behind the counter opened, and the man in question walked through. Everyone in the shop froze and turned to look at him - some more discreetly than others. You were no exception, though your reasons were likely much different than theirs. Some of the customers finished their coffee and scurried out, as if terrified of him.
No wonder he’d been so surprised to see you order, the other day, if this was the reaction he usually received.
The man carried a large box in his hands, probably with coffee grounds and other supplies.
“Oh, just set that over here, Thomas,” the woman said, gesturing under the counter.
Thomas did as he was told, catching your gaze as he stood. His eyes widened a bit, recognizing you, and you gave him a small smile. He swallowed and froze in his tracks, eyes skirting over you, when the man at the front yelled at him.
“Tommy! We need more cups up here!”
Thomas huffed and went back into the room he came from, glancing at you one last time before disappearing. You watched him go with a fuzzy feeling in your tummy.
You turned to the woman, who was watching you suspiciously.
“Sorry, he’s just…kind of handsome, isn’t he?”
Both she and the man up front did a double-take and gawked at you. The woman recovered first and gave you a kind smile.
“Yes, he is,” she agreed, her tone wistful. “I’ve always thought so.”
You cleared your throat when the two of them didn’t stop staring at you, and thanked them for the coffee before turning to leave.
“He works up front on Wednesdays and Thursday nights!”
You heard the grin of the man at the counter’s voice before you saw it, taking note of the mischievous glint in his eyes. You nodded to him bashfully, acknowledging his statement. As you walked out of the door you heard him yell “Hey Tommy! You’ve got a fan!” and couldn’t help the smile from spreading on your face.
They weren’t surprised when you showed up again that next Wednesday, with a wide grin and a happy gleam in your eyes when you saw Thomas standing there.
