#tyler durden imagine

[pangborns]

WOULD’VE, COULD’VE, SHOULD’VE…

God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be

tyler durden x fem!reader x the narrator (jack)

in which tyler entered your life just long enough to fuck it all up.

swearing, mentions of death, violence, panic attacks, manipulation, mean!tyler, kidnapping tbh, possible spoilers. (This may be the darkest thing I’ve written yet, so proceed with caution.)

Your shaky hand was quick to cover your mouth as the sobs poured out of you. You sat criss-crossed on the filthy mattress decorating the floor of the deteriorating home.

Admittedly, just two weeks ago you were a completely different person. You had a stable job, healthy friendships, and most importantly, no Tyler.

The night you met him, he had stopped you from calling the police on him and his friend for fighting in the parking lot outside of Lou’s Tavern. You remember his hand being so cold as it gently wrapped around your wrist. You remember the fear you felt in the pit of your stomach as you looked between the two bloodied men, the flush of your cheeks as they both gauged your actions, and the way you ultimately stopped your movement toward the pay phone. That was your first mistake.

“What’s your name?” Tyler questioned, he tilted his head a bit. You looked around him, watching as the man he was fighting spit out a wad of blood, he was still on the ground. Tyler stepped in front of your line of view. “Your name?”

“Oh- I’m, um, I’m (Y/N),” Your voice shook as you spoke to him. “I wasn’t looking to get involved with anything. I just don’t want anybody getting hurt…”

Tyler chuckled, pivoting on his foot to face his friend, “Y’hear that? She doesn’t want anybody to get hurt,” He was mocking you. The man behind him still didn’t say anything, he seemed lost in thought as he stared at you.

Wait a minute, you knew this man…“Jack?” You spoke incredulously, you did know this man! He worked a few cubicles down from you.

Tyler’s eyes widened, he whistled and fell back a few steps. “Jack’s got a friend,” Tyler continued his trek toward Jack, kneeling beside him. “Now, how do we know this woman, Jack?”

Jack seemed to try to stutter out an answer, his eyes were blown wide. His whole life could fall apart due to this very encounter, you could run off and tell everybody what you had stumbled upon. You could get him fired. His breathing calmed as he became lost in thought, you wouldn’t do that. You were only the woman who worked down the aisle from him, the one that asked him for paperclips as an excuse to interact, the one who emailed him the work he missed out on while he was sick, the one who so obviously had a work crush on him.

Your face was white at the realization, Tyler lowered his voice as he spoke into Jack’s ear, the two still watching you. Your work heels clicked as you started to back away, not failing to recognize how Tyler seemed to let you.

“C’mon man, she’s leaving you. She doesn’t care. She’ll probably run off and tell everybody about how much of a loser you are. What kind of guy stages fights in a run down parking lot-?” Tyler continued to egg Jack on, watching as his buddy’s face contorted.

“Wait!” Jack called out, stopping you in your tracks. “This is- he’s my friend, Tyler.” You released a small breath you were holding as he admitted that he really did know the man.

You nodded, muttering assurances to both yourself and Jack. Feigning a laugh, you started to turn around to leave for good.

“Don’t leave,” Jack pleaded, shakily standing up. “Let me- do you want to come over? To our place?”

You furrowed your brow. Our place. Was Tyler his roommate? “Why?” Your words came out shaky as you fiddled with your coat.

Jack grew quiet, he didn’t know why he extended the invitation. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue in thought.

“- we just moved in! Jack’s been eager to show it off to everybody we meet!” Tyler jumped in, patting Jack on the back extra hard as he stood up beside him.

You looked down at your dainty watch and read the time: 11:28. You stayed at work extra late today to pick up on Jack’s slack, so you weren’t too fond of any idea that didn’t include going home and sleeping.

“I don’t know, Jack. I’ve been working all day-“ Jack closed his eyes and hurriedly nodded, murmuring to himself. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Tyler was quick to cut you off.

“You heard her, Jack. She doesn’t care,” he smirked, throwing a wink your way. “She probably only puts up with you for her own personal work gain.”

The way he so openly spoke lies was incredulous. It didn’t even sound convincing! But from the look on Jack’s face, he so clearly believed those words. You furrowed your eyebrows, anger starting to settle in the pit of your stomach.

“That’s not true! Jack, don’t listen to him.” You demanded, stepping closer to the pair.

“Prove it.” Tyler stated curtly, tilting his head as he challenged you.

And that was how you ended up here, two weeks later, sitting in a decaying house surrounded by rats and roaches. The light pooling in from under the door was slightly blocked as a pair of shoes stood in front of the door. With a click and a creak, the door opened.

“Jack.” You addressed the man, watching as his hands shook while holding the tray of food. He refused to make eye contact with you, simply setting the tray by his feet and turning to leave. 

A sob escaped your chapped lips. “Jack, he’s a criminal. We need to get out of here.” You continued to plead. The man finally looked at you through his lashes. He gulped.

You could hear the countless men downstairs talking about their newest of plans to wreak havoc. Jack cringed.

“It doesn’t work like that, (Y/N).”

Another cry came from your mouth as you deflated a bit.

“Just give up. He isn’t going to let you leave until you join the cause.”

You sputtered, throwing your arms up in frustration. “Never! These are bad people, Jack.”

Jack pursed his lips, nodding a bit as he made his exit. The door shook as he stepped down the hall towards the stairs.

You screamed, pounding your fists against the floor. “Dammit, Tyler! Let me out!”

Your voice eventually grew hoarse and you had to give up. About fifteen minutes after your tantrum, you could hear the precise approaching footsteps of Tyler Durden.

The door cracked open and Tyler slipped in. “Heard you were giving Jack a hard time.” He tsked, not wasting a moment on a greeting.

You kept your mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

“Huh.” He nodded, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. A chuckle escaped from his amused smile. “I got all day, sweetheart.”

Your lip quivered as you fought back the tears. “I’m not joining your shit club.” You spit, eyebrows furrowing.

Tyler merely hummed. “C’mon hun, do it for Jack.” He teased. “Poor guy is in love with you or something! This is killing him, Princess.”

You reeled back at the nickname, cringing at his smirk. “I am going to get out of here one day. On my own accord. This shit hole will be crawling with cops in no time, Tyler. Mark my words.”

Tyler simply laughed at your threat. The thought seemed to amuse him, he lightly tapped your cheek before making his way for the door.

“Trust me, that won’t be happening.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Maybe The Narrator, Tyler and Male Reader as like a lil throuple or something? it can be anything idm🙏

Jack “The Narrator” x Tyler Durden x male reader

Relationship headcanons I guess?

I love this gif,,,, whys he wearing his pants like that? who does he want to grab his hips like that, men???

Tyler is a real person in this universe, cuz it’s easier to write.

How tf did you bag not one mentally ill delusional guy, but two? Honestly, hats off to you. Cuz either you have to be just as unstable as them, or be weirdly too stable to even out their crazy.

So, depending on which, Tyler might not even pull off project mayhem if you are there to reel him in like a rabid Pomeranian wearing one of those full body harnesses.

Jack on the other hand just has so much insomnia it makes him kinda crazy, cuz not sleeping for a long time will drive you insane. Get this guy some sleeping meds, a noise machine, a weighted blanket and some of those melatonin gummies.

If you first start dating them after they start fight club, maybe you even met them there cuz one of your coworkers invited you, they’d still be kinda delulu and out for blood this time around.

Jack seems like he falls fastest, but Tyler falls hardest. You either deck both of them into the ground because its your first night at fight club, or they deck you and think you look so handsome with a bloody nose.

They’d keep circling you at fight club every week, in the beginning Tyler only does it cuz Jack likes you, and maybe Tyler is a little jealous you are taking his friends attention. At some point you’d be invited to their place.

Damn bitch, yall live like this? You try to be polite about it, but its kinda clear they live in a shithole. Screw Tyler’s whole, not owning anything and rejecting modern needs, you need a functioning shower and cable tv.

If Tyler bitches too much about your preferences, you just only invite Jack over, which has Tyler reeling too. So, whilst you are on the couch with an arm around Jack, Tyler can sit on his weirdly soggy mattress and pout.

I think we can all agree that Tyler would be jealous and possessive very easily, think a dog that seems chill, maybe a little hyper, but then snarling and snapping at anyone who comes near you or Jack. You are his, and his alone, so everyone else can stay away.

Jack is jealous and possessive too, but he’s less obvious about it, to others at least. You can tell from the way he glares or clenches his jaw, or how he bites a bit too hard when he makes hickeys on either you or Tyler.

Again, you are the most mentally stable out of all three of you, so you don’t get jealous that easily, compared to them. But that also means when you do get jealous, it has both Tyler and Jack climbing the walls, because its so hot to them.

Especially if you had to fight someone because they kept coming onto either of them, seeing you with a sneer and a bloody fist immediately has both these dudes feeling all types of hot under the collar.

Tyler is definitely a sloppy kisser. He kisses like he fights, overpowering and controlling, bites at your lips a bit too hard and grips the back of your neck and only let’s go when he’s gotten his fill.

For Jack it depends on how he’s feeling, if he’s feeling alright, he’s got the more normal kisses, maybe even just pecks. But if he’s wound up, jealous, or sleep deprived its more like how Tyler kisses.

But kissing them is also your best distraction method if either of them are getting a little too out there. Kissing or like, scruffing them or wrestling them a bit. Just keep in mind the last two most likely lead to something more.

Tyler is a blanket hog, whilst also somehow filling the bed as much as possible. Stretches out all his limbs, or keeps scooting closer to you and jack until you two are pressed up against the wall, whilst Tyler has the rest of it.

Jack is sticky when he sleeps, that meaning he’s hanging onto you. Got both arms and both legs wrapped around you, head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat cuz it helps him sleep. Sleeping between these two is hell in the summer.

[yns-world]

Fight Club Characters As Your Fans

Pairing: Fight Club Characters x Actor!GN!Reader

Context: You are a newly-debuted actor rising in the charts, you have several films to your name and you just starred in the release of a sports film. In this imagine, the Fight Club characters are your fans. 

Warnings: mentions of stalking, obsession, death, slight nsfw

Jack Moore (The Narrator)

His life was dim for months--he’s been running on autopilot before he saw one of your earlier films. This was a darker film, dealing with the psyche of an unstable person. To land that role during your debut season was astounding, but your performance even more so.

Jack was sucked in from the moment you entered the screen. He found comfort in your character and rewatched that film multiple times that same week he discovered it. 

Of course, by the time he finds your other films, that’s all he’ll watch. 

Day and night, from sunup till sundown he’ll stay glued to his couch, his eyes never once leaving your figure.

When he isn’t watching you, he’s at work constantly replaying images of you in his mind. He has this little pretend-play in his mind where he works hard at his job so that he could make you proud when he comes back home. 

You definitely didn’t help his insomnia. It got worse over time--Jack refused to sleep when he could feign a parasocial relationship with you on the screen. 

As the promos for your new sports film were circulating, that was around the same time he discovered you. He was obsessively looking up and gathering all the promotional merch--the massive posters of the film, the solo shots of you in athletic wear, even going so far as buying the unrealistically-priced athletic clothes you sponsored. Why? It’s not like he even works out, or has any penchant to. But it made him happy. 

Jack’s obsession took no time to spiral into something dangerous for him and his health--beyond the insomnia, it was clear that he was unable to tell the difference between an actor and a character.

And he was utterly ruined when he heard rumors that you were possibly dating the hunk of a co-star from your latest movie. Regardless of the hundreds of dollars he had spent collecting anything and everything related to you--in that single moment, he felt a seething betrayal plunge right into his chest.

His airways closed up, his chest tightened, he thought he was having a heart attack. He genuinely thought he was going to die.

At that moment, he knew that he had to stay away from articles in order to protect his own (in)sanity. He couldn’t afford another scare like that again. 

He’d most likely never show his face at one of your meet-up events, but he’d definitely buy out all the merch and autographs you have to offer just to hoard them in his room.

Finally, when your highly-anticipated film hits the theatres, Jack had already bought his ticket for the first possible viewing and liked to imagine that he was on a date with you. 

Despite Jack’s unsound infatuation with you, nobody knows a single thing about it. He doesn’t utter a word about you, your upcoming film, nothing. When his coworkers mention your new film as light conversation, he brushes off the topic and they think nothing of it. 

When he gets home, he’ll have a near-panic attack--he knows you’re an up-and-coming actor, both stunning and talented, but to be recognized in public by people who don’t even love you the way he loves you is blasphemous.

Jack is infatuated with you in the way he believes that you are his and he is yours--it's exhausting to live in a world that doesn’t see this truth. 

Tyler Durden

Tyler is less obsessive--at least, at the start. 

Upon stumbling on one of your films, he thought it was mediocre and only stayed because he thought you were hot. 

Definitely rubbed one out to you in that movie

He’ll rummage through your discography here and there when he’s bored when he wants to get off

As he goes through your movies and you progress into deeper, darker films, he begins to appreciate your sentiments and performances.

Unlike Jack who is more obsessed with the characters and their personalities, Tyler is more inclined to get a taste of who you truly are. Where do your morals lie? How does your brain work? What is your outlook on this damned world?

He’ll scour every inch of this planet to find interviews--published or not--search for articles, and even hunt down obscure internet posts of yours from when you were a teen to add to his ever-growing profile.

When he learns that you are more of an anarchist and nihilist than the industry would like to let on, he becomes a devout follower.

Tyler is not one to fall into the materialistic and idolistic ways of Hollywood, but he knows that there is a distinct message that you are able to bring to the world if done properly. 

Maybe you are actually trying to send a message to the world, or maybe it’s Tyler’s own delusion--regardless, Tyler has found his Messiah.

With the release of your new film, it’s easy for Tyler to find and track your movements. There is always a shadow behind you--in the bushes, across the street, hidden in the flashing crowd--and you can hire as much security as you want, but you’ll never be rid of it unless it wants to leave you.

This haunting presence will mess with your mind, ruin your sleep schedule and therefore delay production--Tyler’s very existence around you will be the first domino to fall--The Beginning of The End of Hollywood.

It’ll be up to you whether you work with him willingly or not--you will either meet a devastating death as a “young, budding actor” who “did not deserve to die”, or you and Tyler will burn down an industry, damn either of your lives or names.

Marla Singer

Marla first meets you behind a window glass for a TV shop. Your latest sports movie playing on all the box televisions--your body moving in sync across all screens, your lips mouthing words that were rendered silent.

A smirk wound itself on her lips as she exhaled smoke. You were cute. 

After that initial encounter, your presence was plastered all over billboards and advertisements. 

Marla would rather die than ever admit it but when she goes grocery shopping shoplifting, she sneaks one of the magazines by the register into her coat before leaving.

Once she gets home, she falls back on her bed and flips open the latest edition of this magazine--you posing on the front page, with the words “Behind the Screen: A Look into Y/N L/N’s Life!” boldened.

With a lit cigarette hanging from her mouth, Marla flips through the pages and actually finds herself engrossed with you. 

She’s the calmest of the three when it comes to this, and she’s also most likely to actually get a real, genuine interaction with you. 

One day, a few weeks after the release of your film, she’ll be walking around the city aimlessly and shoulder-checking a stranger that was speed-walking and not paying any sort of attention.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, asshole!” Marla yells, as was her knee-jerk reaction, but immediately felt the blood drain from her face as the stranger turned around. 

“I’m sorry.” The stranger spoke, finally stopping and taking a good look back at Marla.

Fuck. Marla thought, her mouth agape. 

“N-no, I’m sorry. I’ve had such an insane week, I-” Marla rushed to undo her wrongs but the stranger just smiled and laughed, patting her shoulder in good faith. 

“It’s completely fine. I get it. I’d curse me out too.” The stranger outstretched their hand for Marla to take. 

“I’m Y/N. It’s been a while since I’ve been back to this city.” 

Marla hesitantly took your hand, still in a shell-shock but conscious enough to respond.

“Marla. She paused before fumbling around in her coat pocket for her pack of Marlboros. "Want a smoke?” That was Marla’s best attempt at a conversation with a stranger/flirting in general. Luckily for her, you gladly accept. 

The days when you aren’t flying around for film shoots, you’re back in the city and smoking a late-night cigarette with Marla as she fills you in on the tragedy that is this wretched town. She’s the one part of your life that isn’t controlled or connected to the industry, and you’ll credit her with saving your sanity--to which she’ll throw you a dirty look and call you insane.

She doesn’t want you to know just how much you mean to her--another gut reaction and defense mechanism from her. She puts up a front for everyone in her life, but around you she can just be a person--stupid, idiotic, addicted, flawed, but ultimately, a human being.

Over time though, the two of you will peel away your masks and fraudulent identities around each other.

Who knows, maybe she’ll even introduce you to your two biggest fanboys if you’re so inclined.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging since it helps my account! :)

DON'T BE A GHOST READER!!!! i would love to hear your thoughts and opinions, and comments are what keep writers going <3

i’m open to fight club requests!!! send in what you wish <3

my inbox and messages are always open :P

[dyns33]

Fight Club part 2

Part 2 of my little Tyler Durder x Reader

Because of Project Mayhem, people tend to believe that Tyler Durden likes chaos. That he is the embodiment of chaos.

He likes to see others lost, but he is never lost himself. He is completely in control. He knows what's going to happen, because that's what he decided. An agent of chaos, following a straight line. No one seemed to have understood this.

So I was the only person in the world fully aware that if Tyler Durden was in prison, it was his choice.

It's a mistake to think that cutting off the head of the Mayhem project would stop everything. Even though he is the creator, Tyler did everything to keep his beast running without him. A brainless creature, space monkeys, who know perfectly well what their master wants without him needing to speak.

Plus, Tyler won't have his head cut off. His monkeys are everywhere, in the police, among the juries, behind the walls of his prison. He is surrounded by his followers, who ensure his safety.

If he wants, he can go out. It is obvious that he sometimes goes out, for a few hours, a few days, without the authorities being alarmed.

I know this because I know Tyler very well. Without knowing why or how after all this time, I know him. I hear him in my head sometimes. I feel his breath on the back of my neck, a presence as reassuring as it is frightening.

I know him, so I am always careful even if he is in prison, even if he is far away, even if it has been almost a year.

He haunts my thoughts. My nights. I can still see us on that beach, on the plane, in the house. I miss him, and that's what scares me the most. I have to be wary of everything, and myself first.

Jack is still outside, faithful doggie, psycho boy, who probably gives the orders when the leader sleeps in his cell. I don't think they're looking for me. I am dead and buried. But all it takes is one mistake for everything to change.

That's life. People. I'm not perfect. The mistake came one day. It all started with a heart attack on a bus.

Nothing weird, I wasn't even on the bus. Like every day at the same time, I had my coffee on a terrace, my only little moment of relaxation.

The bus passed the café. I didn't even see it anymore. I didn't see the man fall, nor the people around him become alarmed. It didn't matter to me in the slightest.

That was bad news for a federal agent, because the man who had just died was a well known space monkey. Big Bob. Kind Bob, a bit stupid, who continued to obey by traveling all over the country spreading the word of Tyler Durden.

He had seen me. This came as a shock to him, since he was the one who found my body.

It could have ended there, but one of the feds were obsessed with Tyler. With his organization. He wondered if Bob had been murdered, so he went his way, he took the bus, and he saw me too.

We had never met, but when he approached, I knew immediately why he was there.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead.” he said to me as he sat down. Everyone was Tyler.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

He took out a Polaroid photo. Tyler loved Polaroids. He had quite a collection. I know because Marla talked about it sometimes, to annoy Jack. Intimate photos, all the people he had fucked with, in erotic positions, during the act.

We had never fucked. We barely shook hands, and even though I knew what he wanted, there had always been a distance between us. The walls and the ceiling.

I didn't know Tyler took a picture of me while I was sleeping. He had written down my name on it. I wondered if Marla or anyone else had seen it before the police. I wondered how I felt, knowing that he had taken this photo, and the meaning it had.

"He doesn't talk much. He doesn't like me to show him this photo, but he told me it was his heart, and that it was buried under the house. We found a body. You have an explanation ?"

I had tons of explanations, but I didn't want to share them with the agent. Tyler wouldn't have liked it, and I didn't like it either.

“Tell me about him.” he insisted.

"No."

“You know what he’s up to.”

“As much as you.”

“Give me something, or I’ll arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

"I don't know anything. We met on a beach, he put me up for a while, then I left. Don't tell him you saw me. It won't do you any good."

My mistake was not to believe that the agent would be intelligent enough to listen to my request. He listened. He didn't tell Tyler that I was alive.

No, my mistake was harder to see, seeming insignificant for several days, until I woke up in the middle of the night.

Even if he didn't tell him I was alive, the agent would still tell Tyler about me, hoping to get a reaction. He already knew from the picture that I was special, a point that needed to be pressed, and he wasn't going to stop.

So he was going to talk about our meeting. He was going to talk about the beach.

No one knew about the beach, except Tyler and me.

Since Tyler never told anyone, he would know everything without the agent needing to speak.

There was a bit of panic when the newspapers announced the escape of the leader of Project Mayhem. Speculation regarding his intentions was endless, ranging from bateriological terrorism, to bombing buildings, to assassinating the president.

Only I really knew why he was out there after all this time.

Contrary to what others think, he never wanted to take control or destroy the world. That wasn't the goal of Project Mayhem. Tyler had a vision on a human scale. He only likes to play, among other things.

If I dreamed of him, he dreamed of me. The difference was that while I was running as far away from his cell as possible, he had no reason to leave since he thought he knew where to find me. He still had his picture, and his memories.

Bob really had a talent for breaking things.

I could have continued to flee. It would have been less easy now that the agents of Chaos knew I was alive, but I could have tried. Like a new game. But I didn't like Tyler's games.

I decided to wait for him in my apartment. It was his move. It was always his move.

When he knocked on my door, he thought about bringing beers and pizza. He did this with Jack at home sometimes, at first. When there was still just the club.

He didn't say anything when he saw me, as if he always knew he would see me again one day. Maybe he knew.

Dinner passed in silence, facing each other, waiting. It was his move. I won't start. He seemed to understand it. He decided to make an effort.

“You remember the beach.” It was not a question.

“A guy building a giant hand, you don’t see that every day.”

"I guess not. You broke my heart. But I forgive you. I didn't think you remembered."

“We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t remembered that.”

"Maybe not."

“I’ve always wanted to ask you, why this hand ?”

"I wanted to talk to God. Since he didn't answer, I decided to steal his hand. When I was finished, I looked at what it was pointing at and I saw you, looking back at me. Then I knew it was you."

"What me ?"

"It was you." he only repeated, as if I should understand what he meant, and the worst thing was that I understood perfectly what he meant.

Silence returned, as I finished my beer. All this was far too intimate, more intimate than his photos. More domestic. Something was seriously wrong with Tyler Durden.

I didn't know if I should talk about all the other things I knew. That would have made the situation even worse.

“I don’t like chaos.” was the only thing I could say.

"No one likes that, you'd have to be a moron. You never like what's necessary."

“Nothing is necessary.”

"I love you."

I vividly remembered Jack and Marla, two idiots who danced and screamed, unable to clearly admit how they felt and preferring to trample romance with cigarettes and condoms.

I had often judged Jack because of this. Not anymore. I wanted to slap my face with my hands and disappear, as Tyler started to smile.

Since I didn't need to say what I already knew, he didn't need to say what I already knew. I knew it from the plane. Since his invitation. From his bed above mine. Ever since he took a picture of me sleeping.

He didn't need to say it. We weren't talking about that. It was a new rule. Unfair.

“This can’t end well.”

"As always. Like everything. Endings are never good, that's the tragic thing. And yet, life goes on."

"I wanted to talk to you on this beach. It would have been different if I had."

"We would have fucked like dogs in your hotel room, I would have beaten up your asshole boss sooner, and the world would have burned down on its own. I'm glad you didn't talk to me."

I had sometimes dreamed of another path. I was stupid enough to have hope. Tyler was destroying hope, that was his reason for being, providing total freedom.

I wasn't sure what I was. I still am not today. His heart, maybe. His poor heart.

[kocho-catt]

i need this man so bad it's insane

a near life experience.

pairings. tyler durden x fem!reader

about. tyler knows your need for control, so he puts it to the test.

warnings. foul language, near death experience?

ricky rocks. uhh don’t know what to write here, but hi, finally writing for my bae 😫

tyler durden was insane but there was something so pulling about him that you couldn’t just leave him alone like your mind was originally screaming at you to do.

oh, he was in your head. always in your head to the point he was the only thing you thought about—the reason your mind stopped screaming your logical thoughts, stopped screaming to stay away. however he did it, tyler always managed to have your undivided attention on him—and it killed you. he killed you.

there were multiple occurrences that related straight to that fact.

“hop in.”

you stared at tyler from the edge of the curb, outside of the club you worked at—to where he stared back, standing by a random bmw that you just knew was not his. you frowned, eyeing him with a skeptical stare that was lit up by the red and green club lights that punctured the night. he really hated that look.

always had to question things, always had to fucking question things. why couldn’t you just trust him?

trust. oh, trust is just another large issue.

“what, tyler, why are you here?“

“c’mon, let’s go for a ride sweetheart,” his head tipped to the passenger side of the car, opening of the door himself with a soft inviting smile—one you hated because it just looked so unfamiliar on his face. “let’s go for a little ride.”

something was off, something was real… strange and you couldn’t pin point what it was. tyler could tell that that’s what you were thinking, just by how you were so hesitant and looking him up and down and the men in the back of the car.

but you still got in, he knew you’d get in because you’d do anything for him—even if no rationale came out of the situation.

“what’s going on?” you spoke, finally pulling your vision from the incoming rain plummeting against the windshield, close to blurring a clear vision of the roads if it weren’t for the windshield wipers. “i haven’t seen you in weeks and you suddenly show up?”

“you seem to forget that my door is always open, and this,” he glances at you, raising a finger to motion between the two of you. “isn’t as permanent as you think. you need to stop the habit of getting comfortable with the presence of things that you can’t control.”

you look at him with a clenched jaw, deciding to ignore his slightly philosophical comment because most likely, you’d have time, thinking all about it in bed tonight. “yeah well it’s kind of hard to come over when you have about a million different guys just living in your house and you’re never there.”

“i’m a busy guy, darling. there are things that need to get done.”

“busy? doing what, tyler?” your arms are crossed now and pulled tightly to your chest as it seemed you were now pouting like a child who’s feelings were hurt and denied. “you swear we’re meant to be or some shit and our souls are tied together but i’m somehow always left out of the loop.”

“fuck what you know, sweetheart. you decide your own involvement and lately you’ve proved that you don’t want any of what we’ve got goin’ on.”

“we’ve?” you stare at him, slightly dumbfounded at his sentence and how much it had unintentionally revealed. “what do you mean by—tyler, jesus, watch the road!”

your hand had quickly gripped the wheel after the loud horn of another car provoked your attention to the road where you had discovered the car was swerving into the left lane.

“are you high?” you stare at him harshly, slightly breathless to the shock.

he smiles at you.

your vision narrows on the sight of him, coming to a realization, “all the destruction around the city... is that you?”

he coughs a laugh, turning his line of sight back to the road, “me? not just me, what’s going on is greater than me, greater than you.”

you slump in your seat, frustrated but also astounded by his answer, “i want to know what-“

“first rule about project mayhem is you do not ask questions.”

you almost jump at the sound of their voices ringing from behind you, completely forgetting their presence.

“you need to completely reevaluate your perspective, y/n. what you know about life, everything, forget it. about us, forget it—forget it all. you know nothing.”

your face drops at his words, “what is that supposed to mean?”

he looks to you but says nothing. the look on his face makes you feel sick, hurts your chest and creates an awful taste in the back of your throat. you both keep strained eye contact till you feel the car shift unevenly and your eyes flick out the front windshield.

“what are you doing?”

his eyes slowly fall away from yours and to the backseat, “guys, what would you have wished to do before you die?”

“paint a self portrait.”

“build a house.”

“and you?”

you watch the sight of headlights beam onto your face, and a horn fill your ears, beckoning for your car to return to the right lane. you couldn’t think straight as you looked between tyler and the road—he waited for your answer.

“i-i don’t know, nothing. can you just stop fucking around?” you’re desperate, reaching for the wheel to direct him back to the right direction, but he’s persistent.

“you have to know the answer to this question,” his hand is pressed against your chest, keeping you tied down in your seat. “you would have died right now and how would you have felt about your life?”

“not particularly good, i don’t know, what do you want me to say?” the headlights turn into a clear outline of a semi truck and anxiety rushes aggressively through your veins.

“not good enough,” his stare burns into the side of your cheek as you fight his arm, trying to yank his grip on the wheel away from the loud horn.

“tyler, stop fucking around, tyler!” you yell at him now, pulling and begging him till the wheel goes loose and somehow moves away from the traffic, but further toward the left.

you feel dizzy as a large group of cars pass by your door so close, honking and feeding you their bright headlights. you squint, feeling your heart bang against your chest. it takes everything in you not to scream as you jolt every time a car passes by.

“jesus christ, fuck! what the fuck!” you close your eyes, laying your head in the palms of your hands, “what the fuck is going through your head?”

he laughs from beside you, shaking his head at your fear, “okay, sweetheart, okay.”

he lets go of the wheel right as you come back up to look at him, “take the wheel, tyler, quit fucking around.” you’re practically out of your seat now, grasping the plastic tightly in attempt to maneuver correctly.

“look at you,” he motions to your hunched body, almost on his lap to take better control of the situation. “you’re a mess, baby! you’re pathetic. stop trying to control everything and just let go.”

you glance at him, still gripping the wheel for dear life and he stares back, disappointed, “you’re not even living.”

if it was anyone else, you wouldn’t have. but this was different, you hadn’t met anyone like tyler and you never would again.

so you let go.

there was no control and it put you on edge. anything could happen, and that’s exactly what tyler wanted.

you had been in a car crash once. it wasn’t something memorable, seeing it happened when you were very young. but the moment the car smashed into another and tipped over into a ditch, it was all very familiar and old scars were replaced with new ones that you knew would be unforgettable.

you didn’t know if you were alive. everything was black, and cold, and you couldn’t feel anything till arms looped around yours and pulled you back to air, back to life, where you could so suddenly feel everything.

“goddamn,” tyler’s very melodic laugh pierced the air sharply as he held you tightly to his body; one arm draped around your shoulders while the other held your waist, “we’ve just had a near life experience.”

navigation.

[lustagel]

𓂃 let loose ˖ ݁ tyler durden ⊹ sfw.

tyler didn’t take most things seriously, he would always grin from ear to ear when nothing was funny but he took things that came down to you a bit serious.

c. no description of reader besides you being good at pool and having ass! swearing. the narrator is referred to as “jack” because that’s what he calls himself in the movie. the plot is different from the movie. bleeding. fighting. violence. not proofread (it never is lol).

l. i rewatched the movie and probably liked over 100 edits on tiktok about this movie so i could write this. i am too underrated for this.

just like every saturday, you, tyler and the brown haired, 30-year-old who couldn’t stop bitching about this “marla” chick, sat in a booth together at your favorite bar. jack on one side while you and tyler sat on the other— you probably resting your legs on his as you listened to jack’s rants.

“almost killed herself last week, fucking drug addiction,” jack says before taking a couple sips of beer, bags under his eyes practically becoming a usual thing to see. “she called you first?” you ask, feeling tyler stretch an arm over your shoulders. “yeah. she always does,” he groans as tyler mindlessly looks down at his watch on his right arm, then looks up at the two of you.

“see?” he points at him, making the two of you look his way. “that right there is why you have that problem: she’s relying on you- draining you from the inside-out,” tyler says, gesturing up and down towards jack as he leaned over the table slightly.

“let loose,” tyler said, sitting all the way back in his sit. only the three of you knew what it meant because you promised you wouldn’t speak directly about it out in public. fight club was for people who needed that relief from the week days filled with government controlled jobs, contracts and systems. there is no need for crying and bitching when you were getting punched in the face, tyler believed. jack never understood how the two of you enjoyed watching people bleed from their mouths but tyler knew he would like it all the same, he just needed a little push.

“speaking of “letting loose” how much time do we have left?” you spoke, breaking the silence. tyler looks down at his watch again then looks over to you. “20 minutes.” 20 minutes until the basement of your favorite bar was filled with men who’s fists were itchy to crash into someone’s face. “well, i’m gonna go play pool,” you mumble out quickly before removing your legs from tyler’s, allowing him to get out of the booth so you can stand. once you’re out, he slides himself back into the empty seat.

you look over to jack and give him a provoking look he’s seen time and time again. “think about it,” you lightly smile. 10 minutes after you had left, jack had already started to ramble off again, talking about nonsense that could easily be fixed and that was in his complete control: that’s why tyler didn’t listen. “are you even listening?” jack groans. his groans made the blonde give him a short glance, just for him to look back the way he’d been looking for the past 10 minutes.

“no, and i haven’t for a while so once you’re done wallowing in self-pity…” tyler gives him another short glance but with a grin this time. “you can feast your eyes on something worth living for,” he finished, nudging his head in the direction behind his friend towards to the pool tables. now knowing tyler’s definition of “something worth living for”, he hopes he doesn’t see anything that’ll scar him for life, and fortunately, he doesn’t. it’s just you playing pool with two guys that are giving you the googly eyes of a lifetime. he’s confused so he looks over to tyler but only finds his friend grinning at you. jack looks back over to you, trying to find what was so special.

you stood in the farthest corner of the pool table from the two of them as you watched one of the them hit the white ball. once the loud noise of the balls hitting each other and two going into the holes cleared, the man stands from his leaning position and looks over at you, proudly. you only give him a grin, clearly not too impressed. you say nothing before taking a couple steps over.

the men playing only gave each other a grin (one that you didn’t catch) before looking back over at you who was leaning on the table, ribs touching the rim. tyler could see you perfectly from where he was sitting, arm up on the booth seat behind him, grin cut into his face, and eyes burning holes into the curve of your ass and that pretty face. he made sure to keep an eye an on the guys you were playing with who stood a bit too close to you for his liking but he let it slip his mind, allowing himself to focus on you.

once you lined up your stick, you took the shoot and watch as the 8 ball fell right where you wanted it. you smiled but quickly stopped when you feel a hand slide down the curve of your back to the top of your ass. you’re quick to stand from your leaning position. “what the fuck!?” tyler quickly stands from the booth and walks up from behind you. the guy removes his hand from you and take a couple steps back after spotting him, but tyler is quick to stand in front of you and throw a punch to the guys face.

you could practically hear his nose break under the impact. “what’s your fucking problem?” the guy swears, sharing a glance between tyler and his bloody fingers as he touched his bleeding nose. “we were playing pool,” he growled, finally covering his nose with his hand. “what? you think i didn’t see you getting a feel, dick face?” tyler asks, tilting his head to the side slightly with a grin. the guy says nothing making tyler grab him by his shirt and punch him a couple more time.

the guy was starting to go slightly limp in his grasp as he continued to throw punches. “take that shit downstairs, man!” irvine yells walking through the crowd that had gathered to watch—that you hadn’t seem to notice until then. tyler notices the voice and stops. before he lets him go though, he takes a good look the guy, face bloody, eye black and swollen, and cheeks bruised then turns his ear to you.

“you think that’s enough, baby?” he grins, his slightly leaning position giving you a clear view of the guys face. “perfect,” you grin, and tyler smile even harder. he then loses his grip on the guys shirt and tosses him slightly. him almost falling over as a result but before he can tyler whispers, “i got ya,” to himself before, locking hands with the guy and helps him gain his balance. with no intentions of letting his hand go, tyler gives the crowd a look before turning his attention back to the man and leaning in to whisper. “next time, i’ll make sure it’s both eyes,” he whispers, before pulling back with a grin and a wink.

tyler grabs the guy’s wallet from his pocket picks a couple buck from it, before folding the bucks in half between his fingers and waves it in his face. “payment… you know, for my worries,” he grins before passing it back to you and you take it proudly. he slips the wallet back into his pocket and gives him one last look before punching him dead in his face again, but this time he hits the floor, hard. before irvine could yell out, tyler puts his hands up with a grin. “my hands slipped. sorry.”

irvine only gives the both of you a hard glare as you and him walk around the pool table. tyler checks his watch as he walks, smile beaming. “showtime,” he whispers to himself. “you’re a pain in my ass,” irvine groans as the two of you walk pass him to get to the basement. “love you too,” tyler grins before patting him on his chest. “come on, jack.” you gestured for your friend who stood smiling like most people in the crowd.

[weird--science]

when the movie has beautiful men covered in blood

[mortysmith]

favorite colors

[kocho-catt]

THIS WAS SO GOOD😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

SINCE IV’E BEEN LOVING YOU

synopsis. ꩜ since I've been loving you…I'm about to lose my, my worried mind

author's note. ∿ led zeppelin and tyler are sooo…i just had to write something. requested by anon. smoking, fluff and light angst.

word count. ⨾ 700

Tyler Durden drove you crazy. Still, there was something so prepossessing about him that you couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by him—to be in love with him. But love has never made you feel like more of a fool, sitting on his bathroom floor in his leaf button down, bare legs against the dirty tile while you cleaned his injuries. Tyler Durden drove you crazy.

You loved him for lack of a better word, but whether he loved you or not was the burning question that was absolutely killing you. And what was worse is that you would let it, rather than know the answer you knew would—so yes, you felt like a fool.

Still, you sat in between his legs on the floor, wiping the blood from his chest, a vague expression on his face and a less than comfortable silence looming in the air.

“You’re not fucking invincible, Ty,” You mumbled and it echoed throughout the room, your voice shattering the silence like a stone to glass.

His brow quirked up. “Really?” He asked sarcastically, his ambiguous expression morphing into a lighthearted grin.

“Really. I’m serious,” You sighed, rolling your eyes, dousing the now bloodied hand towel in more alcohol.

"Must you be so serious, baby?"

"I must because you won't."

He narrowed his eyes. "I can be serious," he said amused with your accusation and you couldn't help but roll your eyes again, shaking your head. Silence crept in once again and Tyler pulled a cigarette from his pocket as he observed you. He noted the way your nose slightly crinkled at the odor of the alcohol and how warm your hands felt against his chest. The way your eyes held a flash of affliction yet you seemed to be nothing but unaffected with a calm composure.

“No one has ever cared about me like you,” He murmured, letting his lips wrap around the smoke.

"Yeah, whatever," You breathed.

"I'm serious."

Your brow quirked up, mocking him. "Really?"

"Really," He whispered honestly, lighting the cigarette and sucking delicately, letting the stagnant debris pervade his lungs.

"Is that supposed to be a good thing?" You asked, looking up at him.

"Take it how you will."

You didn't know what to make of his words so you didn't say anything at all. Instead you continued to repeat your cleaning routine, moving to the cuts and bruises on his face. You snatched the cigarette from his mouth, putting it in yours as your hand moved to his jaw while you examined them.

"Hey," He exhaled, puffing the ash gray fumes away from your face.

"It was in the way," You muttered, your voice muffled by the cigarette and your focus directed towards wiping the dried blood on his lip. When you pulled the towel away, your eyes met his; the gaze you’ve been secretly been avoiding for this reason exactly. You couldn’t help but melt under his stare, your cheeks heating up. It was as if you were free falling and no one was there to catch you—not even him. So you looked away before you could reach the ground.

It was remarkable and infuriating the way he could make you feel. It’s like he would take your breath away only to never give it back. He stole your heart and never revealed his intentions. He was a magician and you were his audience to whom he would never tell his secrets.

You focused back onto his split lip, without the blood running from it, but your thumb running cautiously over the skin.

“I love you,” He said.

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

“I love you.”

You only stared at him, as if this were one of his magic tricks. You were analyzing his expression that you couldn’t tell was hopeful, wistful, or anything at all. And before you could make a decision, he was pulling your legs so that your body was aligned with his and you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. it was real, this was real.

He took the cigarette from your mouth, anticipating an answer—and he got what he wanted.

“I love you too.”

He got you.

Tyler Durden drove you crazy.

[actually-mentally-ill]

why are some of the hottest tv men always the biggest criminals 🧍‍♀️

like how am i supposed to hate you when you’re ripped, tall, dangerous, blue-eyed with a leather jacket?

[pangborns]

SKIN DEEP.

tyler durden x fem!reader

in which Tyler shows you the feel of a lye-burned kiss.

maybe a few fight club spoilers, very in-character tyler which is def a warning, so- dark!tyler technically, chemical burns, talks of religion, mentions of fighting/wounds/blood lmk if I missed anything else!

this is self indulgent, I need more fight club fics. we’re gonna pretend the last 20 mins of the movie aren’t canon for this fic lollll.

“Thanks,” You spoke softly as Tyler held the decaying door open for you. Stepping into the deteriorating house, your breath hitched. The walls were peeling, rust stains were evident on the ceiling, and the wood floors splintered with each step you took forward. “I didn’t realize you lived here..”

“Home sweet home,” He chuckled with a side smirk, letting the door fall closed. Tyler stepped around you, walking confidently through the halls of the house. You followed, shyly peaking into the rooms you passed. “What happened to your lip?”

Tyler didn’t look back as he asked the question, only continuing to lead you through the house. “Uh,” You paused to touch the split with your tongue. “Some asshole was looking for some spare cash, I guess.”

“Did you hit him?” The man inquired, he turned toward you as you entered the kitchen, leaning his back against the island.

You furrowed your eyebrows and pursed your lips, “No,” you stated simply. You didn’t know Tyler well, sure, he bought you a drink at Lou’s Tavern a few nights back and you two just got to talking. You considered him a friend, though he easily made you nervous with the way he talked about violence so nonchalantly. “Was- am I supposed to?”

He chuckled, puffing air out of his mouth as his head lolled back. “You gotta learn how to hold your own. Now you’re twenty dollars out and sporting a busted lip.” Tyler rolled his eyes and tongued the inside of his cheek. “I’ll kill him, you know I’d kill him for you.”

Your eyes widened at the confession, “No, I’m not asking you to do that.” You stuttered, holding your hands out to wave him off. “I’ll survive, it’s just some blood, I’ll make the money back anyway.”

You watched as Tyler swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s not the point,” His words were pointed, “look, I can help you.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Help me how?”

Tyler quirked his eyebrows, turning his body toward the items splayed across the island. “I’ve got some work to do, but just humor me, sit with me and I’ll give you some tips.” He shed his red leather jacket and pulled up two stools, putting them on opposite sides of the counter.

When you didn’t move, he nodded his head in the direction of your seat. You played with your fingers, glancing around the room nervously before taking a seat.

“‘Atta girl.”

“What are you- are those chemicals?” You cut yourself off with the hurried question, worrying about both his safety and your own. He took a seat on his stool and cracked his knuckles.

Tyler’s shoulders shook as he silently laughed at your question, “Why of course, this is quality soap. Can’t make it any other way.”

You knew your newfound friend had an interest in soap making of all things, but you never could’ve imagined the work that went into it. You opened your mouth to ask another question, but were cut off by the blonde across from you.

“Can you throw a punch?”

Again, you furrowed your eyebrows at the man. “I think? I’ve never really done it before..” you looked down at your hands. Your skin was soft, no dry blood, no bruising, no scars or anything that would prove that you could hold your own.

He snorted, “Curl your fingers in tight, thumb on the outside. Let me see.” You did what you were told, showing him your fist. “Good, you twist with your hips, plant your feet and follow through with your dominant arm.”

You nodded as you took in the information, trying to picture what he was telling you. Inside, you knew you’d still be too afraid to even consider starting a fight, but you wanted to make Tyler happy. “And what happens when I get hit? I don’t think I’d be able to get back up.”

Tyler bit his lip, chewing it in thought. “Pain tolerance…” he chuckled. “Give me your hand.”

You hesitantly gave the man your hand, shuffling in your seat. Tyler’s calloused palm nearly grounded you as he gently held yours. You watched as Tyler’s gaze left your hand and traveled to the doorway. He slowly dropped it as he looked at the figure.

A man, lanky and tall, silently watched the interaction between the two of you. He squeezed his mouth shut and let out an audible sigh as he held Tyler’s eye. You looked between the two, watching as a silent conversation was taking place. The man’s bottom jaw jutted out as he seemed to hold his tongue and looked to you. You held his stare, one that seemed to both convey so much emotion and hide it all just the same. In his eyes, you could make out a foreign pain. Was he worried? For you? He pivoted on his foot and started his trek toward the stairs before you could dwell too much on it.

When you looked back toward Tyler, he was already staring right at you. “Who was that?” He put some protective goggles and gloves on before grabbing your hand again.

“Roommate,” was all he said, hoping to get on with his science experiment as he pursed his lips, bringing your hand to his face. He held a long kiss to the skin on top of your hand, keeping eye contact throughout the entire ordeal.

Your breath hitched at the action, eyebrows drawing in as you quickly became confused. Your cheeks flushed a bit at the strange behavior, opening your mouth to speak as he withdrew his lips. “Why- what is this?”

“This is a chemical burn,” He smirked, grabbing the container of flaked lye and pouring a good amount on the shiny saliva spot on your hand.

It all happened so fast, you had no time to react as your body jolted in pain. Tears immediately jumped onto your waterline as Tyler’s grip on your hand tightened. Your face grew white as the pain registered in your head. Standing up quickly, the stool you were sitting on fell over backwards as you struggled to hold your weight on your shaky legs.

You screamed, a wet shriek leaving your mouth as you tried to tug your arm out of his tough grip. Your face was now soaked, veins popping out of your forehead as you watched the flesh on your hand start to bubble.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

Tyler laughed at the word, quickly containing it after you continued to scream. He held his tongue, trying not to speak ill of the father.

“It will hurt more than you’ve ever been burned and you will have a scar.” He spoke softly, trying to calm your hysterics.

It was getting hard to breath with the ever noticeable pain. The skin started to smoke as the chemical ate away at it. Closing your eyes, you tried desperately to think of a happier place.

An image of nature, animals, and peaceful lullabies popped in your head as you tried to block out the unbearable pain.

“— stay with the pain, don’t block this out.” Tyler’s rough voice shook you out of your daydream as he ran his thumb over your index finger, trying to keep you from passing out.

“No, I can’t. It hurts.” You sobbed, hoping that the man upstairs can hear the distress and come stop this. You looked toward the ceiling.

“Look at your hand. The first soap was made from the ashes of heroes. Like the first monkeys shot into space. Without pain, without sacrifice, we would have nothing!” Tyler became more passionate as he spoke, excitement invading his tone.

You screamed again as the pain grew deeper, “make it stop!” At this point you had run out of tears, shaking so hard you thought the floor would give out. You closed your eyes again, hoping Tyler wouldn’t bring you back out of your happy place.

As you were transported back to that rainforest, you felt another jolt as he pulled on your arm. “Stop. This is your pain, this is your burning hand. It’s right here!”

You thought you were going to be sick, your entire body heated up like a candle. “This is premature enlightenment!” Tyler continued to encourage.

“You’re insane!” You screeched, the walls reverberating as your voice echoes throughout the entire house. You couldn’t figure out why the man upstairs didn’t come down to check on the situation.

Tyler grabbed your chin, pulling you in close to his face. “This is the greatest moment of your life and you’re off somewhere missing it! You’re shutting me out!”

Your vision grew blurry as you continued to scream: “oh my god!” Voice now hoarse.

“Shut up. Our fathers were our models for God. And, if our fathers bailed, what does that tell us about God?” His words bounced off your ear drums, starting to distort as black spots danced in your vision. “Listen to me. You have to consider the possibility that God doesn't like you, he never wanted you. In all probability, He hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen...”

You swallowed, trying to blink. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay awake at this point, maybe the pain would be more bearable if you were unconscious. “It- it is..?”

“We don’t need him. Fuck damnation. Fuck redemption. We are God's unwanted children? So be it!” His voice grew louder, the pain came back ten times worse as you looked at the wound. You started to tug away from him again, knocking more ingredients off of the counter.

Your eyes landed on the sink, the thought of the cold water washing away the harsh lye was one so soothing. You shuffled your body toward the rusty sink, only making it about a foot before Tyler tugged you back.

“Listen. You can run water over your hand and make it worse, or -- look at me, -- or you can use vinegar and neutralize the burn.” He put a hand on the side of your face, gently rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. “First you have to give up. First you have to know, not fear, know that some day you’re gonna die.”

You nodded hurriedly, willing to agree to anything in order to get this foreign substance off of your soft skin. “It hurts, you don’t understand!”

Tyler slowly revealed his own hand, watching as your eyes played over a scar that you will soon match. Your shuddering breaths only grew louder at the reveal. “You’re insane! You’re crazy!”

“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.” He simply spoke, reaching for the vinegar. The cold sweat on your skin made your hair stand up on end. What if this only makes it worse? You’ve learned that you can’t trust Tyler with your well being.

He poured the liquid over your wound, successfully washing away the unwelcomed chemical and putting your pain at ease. The sizzling noise of your skin being eaten away died down and so did your shaking. The room felt eerily silent as the pain dissipated.

“Congratulations. You’re one step closer to hitting the bottom.”

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hello! I was going to req some hc’s or like a drabble for the narrator/jack? Both SFW & NSFW if you can but if you can’t it’s fine ^^ (ur literally carrying the tag on ur back LMAO)

Jack/The Narrator x Medical Staff Male Reader

Drabble

I tried writing this from Jacks perspective.

I have to get used to calling him Jack again, since I had to call him Joe in my assignment, since that’s what hes called in the book. This is based off of the books ending, so maybe google it if you don’t know it?

I had the idea of the reader being medical staff a while ago, and id love to explore it more with both Jack and Tyler, both as the same person or as separate people. No smut, but I hope that’s still good :)

on the shorter side, but enjoy

Heaven was a slow and dull place. Cold white walls, cold white floors, cold white clothes, bland tasteless food and angels watching over you, making sure you ate every bite and checking that you took all the tasteless little tablets in tiny cups. Their eyes would bore into you as you swallowed down the little things, some even wanted to see under your tongue to make sure you had taken them all. Just follow orders, open your mouth please, life your tongue, to the right, to the left, thank you, you can close your mouth now.

The only angel that mattered in this place was… him. I could never remember his name, even though he wore a nametag like every other angel. The only thing I could remember with certainty was his eyes. Unlike the other angels and God who looked at me with badly hidden fear and disgust, he looked at me with patience and warmth, so warm. I don’t even think my mother ever looked at me with that much care.

He was the first angel I saw when I woke up, his hand holding mine, his thumb rubbing light circles over the scar on the back of my hand. Over Tylers scar. I couldn’t speak the first month or two I was here, almost blowing your face off would do that to you, but he was always patient to me, waiting between his questions like I somehow had the ability to answer.

Even when I felt so empty and hollowed out, he would show up, turn me over and wipe me down, because I had become so invalid, I couldn’t even wash myself. Even the space monkeys that wandered the halls as cleaners or whatever else seemed to like him. My angel. My guardian angel.

Hes poor you know, he does this because he loves us low lives. His dad offed himself in front of him when he was a kid, his mom overdosed in the bathtub when he was a teen. His aunt that took him in beat him. Hes just as lowly as us, but he’s so kind, even us space monkeys, he always takes care of us Sir, you’ll love him Sir.

Sir.

Sir.

Sir.

That’s all they call me, waiting with bated breath for him to return. For their messiah, for their God Tyler Durden to return. But all that was left was me, a loose-limbed scarecrow of a person, all jagged edges, and shadowed eyes. My angel always made sure I took the pills, I didn’t even care if he made me swallow cyanide, poison or some other drug that would leave me braindead. As long as he caressed my scarred cheek with those warm careful fingers afterwards, and spoke to me in that soft voice.

He must have noticed how I preened under his praise, because my angel kept praising me from then on. Soon thoughts of Project Mayhem and Space Monkeys and Marla meant nothing. As long as my angel was there to hold me when I wailed and seized through the different treatments, nothing mattered.

My angel made my insides twist and warm in ways neither Marla nor Tyler had ever made them twist. The medication God made me take made it so I couldn’t get hard, but I swear if I could, just thinking about my angel’s lips would have left me rock solid.

I wanted him to stay with me, but apparently that wasn’t advisable. He had other souls to check on, others to shine his light upon. But I never wanted him to go. He always caressed my hair before leaving, telling me to be good before he returned, and so I was. The time without him blurred together into a mess with no meaning.

Simply waiting for my angel to return again.

[martyryo]

I can't be trusted with colors.

[soap-mothership5]

fight club narrator but he uses this in his office setup

[strawbby-shortcake]

"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]

[finchers-ipad]

what happened in between the car crash and tyler’s little monologue in the narrators bedroom? like i’m assuming that tyler or one of the space monkeys called for another car to be sent to pick them up. and if so there’s no way the narrator/tyler could drive that car because of how out of it he was.

i like to think that they called the car and the space monkeys sat in the front and drove whilst the narrator was in the backseat and imagining his head on tyler’s lap as he strokes his hair or something.