"Welcome, what would you like?" ✰ X GN READER! ✰
[♡ Marla, Tyler, and Jack order at a cafe you work at. ♡]
✧.* Marla ✧.*
You never expected to receive any customers since it was an awfully slow day. The cafe was dimly lit with a few chairs and a table in one corner, and a broken record player in the other. You stood around fiddling with one of the bleached coffee filters until the door chimed and a sliver of sunlight creeped into the building for a split second.
A skinny, disheveled woman walked up to the counter and glanced at the menu, then you, then the menu again, and then back to you.
"Hello, what would you like?" you asked, giving her a small smile.
She took a long drag of her cigarette while looking around the cafe. You noticed that she had messy, black hair, slept-in makeup, and a silk night gown of sorts on.
"Something dark, like my soul," she said with a scratchy voice. Probably from the smoking, you guessed.
You simply nodded at the woman and grabbed a cup and a marker.
"Your name?"
"Why the hell do you need my name? It's emptier in here than it is on Paper Street at midnight," she croaked.
You stared at her, your eyebags mirroring hers, and didn't respond.
"Marla. Marla Singer."
You wrote her name on the cup in thick, black letters. Getting her order correct wouldn't be a hard task at all. You brewed a fresh cup of the strongest coffee you could find and gave it to her.
She glanced at your handwriting on the cup.
"I'm not paying for this, but here," she said as she laid a torn piece of paper and two quarters on the counter.
"...thanks," you responded, grabbing the items and pocketing them.
Marla hurried out of the cafe like an alley cat, not glancing back at you even once.
✰ ✰ ✰ Tyler ✰ ✰ ✰
The record player in the cafe was attempting to play a Pixies vinyl, but it was so scratched up that it sounded more like nails on a chalkboard that it did music. A few customers came and went, the usual cappuccino or grande latte.
The bell that was tied loosely onto the door handle chimed and fell with a sad clank as a tall, nicely-tanned man walked in. He didn't even bother picking up the bell. The man strolled and leaned over with one elbow resting on the countertop and the other on his waist.
Upon closer inspection, he had multiple cuts and bruises on his face and mid-section (which was clearly visible since he was wearing a crop top). Was he even wearing underwear? You didn't ask questions, because frankly, you don't get paid enough to.
He slid his red glasses to the tip of his nose and stared into your eyes. He had a faint black eye. Maybe from fighting, or falling down the stairs.
"Hello, what would you like?"
The man gave you a wide grin, but you noticed there was dried blood on his lips.
"Just your heart, gorgeous," he said with a wink.
You looked at him and furrowed your eyebrows. Who even is this guy?
"Yeah, not happening," you said.
He clicked his tongue and placed both hands on the counter, looming over you.
"You sure I can't convince you?" he whispered lowly.
He leaned in and parted his lips, causing you to place a muffin into his mouth. He jolted in surprise and looked bewildered.
The man scoffed and made his way out of the cafe. He took the muffin with him though. He threw a card onto the floor and kicked the door open with his foot.
After he was no longer in sight, you went over and picked the card off the floor. It was a business card that said: "Paper Street Soap Co. All Natural. Handmade. (288) 555-0153. Tyler Durden. 537 Paper Street • Bradford • 19808."
"Tyler Durden." Interesting.
ੈ✩‧₊˚ Jack (The Narrator) ੈ✩‧₊˚
A man dressed in a suit and black shades has been sitting in the cafe for the whole afternoon. Not once has he gotten up to order anything. He just sits there reading his newspaper, sometimes dozing off for a few minutes, or mumbling about some club.
You decide to walk up to him and make small talk, or at least offer him a coffee. There was no one else here, so you didn't see the harm in letting him stay a little longer.
"Hello," you said as you stood in front of the table he was sitting at.
The man looked up at you, acknowledged your presence with a "hmm," and went back to reading his paper.
"Do you want any coffee or anything? What would you like?" you tried again.
The man placed his newspaper on the table firmly and stared at you menacingly. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept for days, some light stubble, and a mole on the bottom of his right cheek.
You stepped back from the table and shrugged.
"Oh well, I tried," you sighed.
The man got up and left his newspaper behind. He left the cafe with a low "see you."
You grabbed the newspaper and noticed a "HELLO my name is: JACK" label that was stuck onto one of the pages. You kept the newspaper in case he ever came back again.
[END]
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Aab toh 11th khatam hone Wali Hai 😭
10ths toppers parents going to their child's first ptm in 11th:
Parents: [all smug and ready to hear compliments]
Teacher- your child has gotten just passing marks in two subjects
Me, looking at my parents: So it was fun while it lasted hainaaa *runs for the hills*
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