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kausstar · 10 months

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LET LOOSE

tyler durden x reader￨sfw content￨wc: 1.1k

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.

tags 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).

𝓴aus. 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.

 2023 kausstar.

#⋆ 𐙚 ₊ ˚ star #fight club 1999 #fight club fanfic #fight club #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden fanfic #tyler durden smut #tyler durden #tyler durden oneshot #tyler durden imagines #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden fanfiction

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strawbby-shortcake · 3 months

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✯ Showing Fight Club Characters Memes ✯[all gn! reader]

❀ Marla ❀ You and Marla were sitting inside the laundry mat waiting for some careless person to leave their clothes behind. The two of you rarely hung out or spoke, but when you did, it was to steal jeans and sell them. Marla used the money for cigarettes and you used it for snacks. It was sort of like "bonding time" between you and her. Not that Marla would admit that- or you.

She was getting restless waiting, and she didn't have any cigarettes on her, so she needed a distraction.

"Hey, show me something funny," Marla said, resting her head on your shoulder.

You glanced at her messy hairdo and chuckled.

"Sure," you replied.

You got out your phone and starting scrolling through your gallery. A meme that you made of Jack sleeping popped up. Marla's eyes widened and she started to laugh. She laughed for a while until she had a coughing fit.

"Maybe you should quit smoking," murmured.

"Over my dead body."

✭ Jack ✭

Jack was dozing off in his office cubicle, as usual. You were his co-worker and thought he could use a funny photo to look at while attempting to stay awake.

"Excuse me?" you whispered, gently nudging him.

"Wha-! Huh?" Jack jerked awake and looked around frantically.

"Woah, take it easy. It's just me."

Jack looked at you wearily and rolled his eyes. He was always in such a terrible mood. To be honest, he looked like he hadn't slept at all. Maybe that's why he's irritable.

You showed him a cat meme on your phone, "Here, I thought you could use a nice laugh today!"

He stared at the photo blankly, but didn't give you a response.

"Uhm... okay then, see you tomorrow," you said, quickly exiting his area.

✦ Robert "Bob" Paulson ✦ It was another full house at the testicular cancer support groups. You didn't understand why you were there. Maybe you were curious. A big man with an even bigger chest made his way towards you. His name tag said "BOB" in bold letters.

As soon as he got within two feet of you, he enveloped you in a bear hug. He smelled oddly of a mixture of sweat, perfume, and wood. You were being crushed, but patted him on the back since he was sobbing. Maybe because of his testicular cancer, or he got it removed. Either way, he was in dire need of cheering up.

"Hey, do you want to see something funny?" you asked.

Bob looked at you with teary eyes and nodded.

You showed him a meme from your gallery and he laughed slightly. You were about to put you phone away when he suddenly starting swiping from over your shoulder. Personal pictures, tax documents, the whole sha-bang. Bob saw it all. Did he care? Probably not. He just wanted to scroll.

⍟ Angel Face ⍟

You and Angel Face met at Lou's Tavern one evening. He was a simple-minded guy, seemed to be the highlight of everyone's night, and was easy-going. You two had run out of things to talk about, so you decided to show him a meme from your gallery.

"Oh, what's this?" he questioned.

"It's just a silly picture I saved."

He snatched your phone from your hands and looked at it closely. You tried to grab it back but he jumped away from you.

"What's your deal, man?" you fumed, "that's my phone."

"I'm just trying to get a better look at it!" Angel Face whined.

You sighed and shook your head, there was no use in trying to get it back at this point.

✴ Tyler Durden ✴

Tyler was working on his famous pink soap- the "yardstick of civilization," as he would call it. Lots of high end stores bought from him. He never told you the secret ingredient though.

He'd been silent for quite some time, only humming once in a while or whistling. You decided, like any good friend should, to interact with him and show him some memes.

"Tyler, hey man, wanna see something funny?" you asked.

You poked him in the shoulder a few times before he pushed your hand off.

He took his cigarette from his mouth and paused his soap making.

"What do you want?"

"I was trying to show you something, jerk face," you replied.

Tyler didn't even bothering looking up, he just continued to fiddle with glycerin. You guess that his reaction was to be suspected since he never really listened to you in the first place.

You sighed, "Whatever."

[END]

#funny #fight club fanfic #narrator fight club #fight club #jack fight club #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden #robert paulson #angel face #marla x reader #marla singer #meme #funny memes #lol #haha #so funny #they're having a whimsical time #this is canon now

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Little Talks | Tyler Durden x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Hello I'm back, i absolutely love the previous Tyler Durden fics so I'm requesting some more <3

Could you write one whit the prompt "Woah, calm down, it's only me" whit the reader having Tyler over at his apartment for the first time after they hook up and going to get himself a glass of water in the middle of the night, getting startled by Tyler who followed him and almost knocking him out?

Thank you ':3

-🐊

summary: Tyler always gets what he wants, one way or another.

tws: swearing, choking, smoking

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

It had been a long night, a really fucking long night, and although you would never say it was a bad night, the hours had still rendered you absolutely exhausted; you had finally decided to give Tyler a chance after he had nagged you into it, and you were far from regretting it. Finally hooking up with him for the first time was a goddamn blessing, if you were honest, even if you were certain that he would leave by the time that you had fallen asleep.

You were surprised though, as when you had woken up in the middle of the night, such an unholy hour that you couldn't shake the feeling that maybe something was wrong, he was still clinging onto you; one arm thrown across you, a leg between yours as he slept soundly. You resisted the urge to gently rake through his hair as you slowly and cautiously pulled yourself from his grasp.

Your mouth felt something awful, like your mouth was somehow too wet and too dry at the same time, so you decided that, while you were up, you would grab a drink and a quick smoke before you went back to sleep; you made sure that the kitchen speaker was playing ever so quietly when you turned it on, the sound of 'Ring of Fire' by Johnny Cash made you yearn to hum and sing along as you filled your glass.

Had you been alone, there was no doubt that you would have, but you supposed that Tyler wouldn't appreciate being woken up at such an hour, so you kept your mouth shut as you slowly knocked back the drink. You didn't want to fuck up, you knew that Tyler had more than a handful of admirers, you knew that he could easily move on to someone else if you displeased him; you didn't want to fuck up.

You knew there would be no sweet goodbye in the morning. You knew that the chance to sit alone and watch the sky would never happen. Things that any other guy would do with his boyfriend were never going to happen; Tyler wouldn't even call you his boyfriend, you were sure of that... but it was all too easy to fall for him. A slow and old country song started to play, and you couldn't resist swaying from side to side slightly as you finished your drink and left the glass in the sink, about to get yourself a cigarette when you felt a hand on your hip.

You whirled around, throwing a punch, but he caught your wrist before you could properly hit him, and a dark chuckle came from the back of his throat.

"Woah, calm down, it's only me, baby."

You huffed, wrenching your wrist from his grasp as you rubbed your eyes. "Tyler... fucking Hell, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"You're cute when you're startled," he teased, backing you up against the nearest counter, his hands bracing the marble as he left enough room for you to move yourself if you wanted to. "You left me cold."

You bit at the inside of your lip for a moment. "Sorry... I was thirsty."

Tyler looked you up and down, studying your features in the dark as a pleased and excited look came to his eyes; he didn't even have the decency to borrow your dressing gown, stood there in just his boxers as they hung slightly too low. Slowly, he brought his hand up, gently tracing your bottom lip as he nodded in approval.

"You gonna come back?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, transfixed by him. "Yeah, I'll, I'll be back once I've had something to smoke."

"Stay there," Tyler commanded, coaxing you up onto the counter and grinning to himself as he helped himself to two cigarettes. He lit them both and came to stand between your legs as he handed one to you.

Of course Tyler knew that he would always get his own way when it came to you, or any other guy for that matter; he was charming and handsome, pretty and cunning. He just had to press the right buttons, and when it came to you, he knew exactly which ones to slam his hand down on and when.

"I didn't expect you'd still be here."

He cocked a brow. "Really?"

"Yeah," you shrugged. "I know your reputation, Tyler. You... you leave people as soon as you're bored, and usually that happens in the middle of the night."

"Oh, baby," Tyler shook his head as he laughed. "Did you forget?"

"Forget what?"

He laid his hand on your throat, a puff of grey leaving his lips as he chuckled softly. "Whatever I want, I take it. That includes you."

"Tyler," you didn't want to admit you liked the way that his hand felt against your throat. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Why the fuck do you think I kept asking you to give me a chance?" He asked. "If I just wanted to break a bed, I'd have found someone else who would've said yes the second I asked. It's not just about that."

You scoffed. "Oh, really?"

He applied a little pressure to your throat, and you grinned at him. "Really. I want you, want you to be only mine."

Your breath hitched as you bit back a soft whimper, overwhelmed by him as always and needing to feel his lips on yours. But Tyler wouldn't give you what you wanted so easily, you knew that. "But we're not dating?"

"Oh, we are," he dropped his hand from your throat, placing it at the small of your back so that he could pull you in real close. "You're mine."

You shivered at the way he said it. "What about your friends? Y'know, the ones from... business dealings."

"They won't touch you," Tyler said lowly. "If they do, I'll make sure they never lay a hand on you again. Never so much as look at you."

"I want to be yours," you admitted. "But... I have a request."

"Say it."

"I want you to stay the night," you told him. "And come back this evening."

For a moment, he thought about it; he could easily still attend Fight Club, could easily still sort the pressing matter of Project Mayhem, and make it back in time for tea, too. He didn't see why not.

"Anything you want," Tyler shrugged. "It's yours."

"I just have to take it," you raised your brows. "Right?"

#mlem writes #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden #tyler durden imagine #fight club #fight club imagine #fight club x reader #fight club fanfic #fight club 1999 #brad pitt fanfic #brad pitt imagine #brad pitt x reader #brad pitt

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irishcoyote · 10 days

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If I wrote a Palahniuk-style fic about Fight Club from Angel's perspective would anyone read it

it would be a lot about his experiences and feelings before fight club (when he was just a high school student) and then during and shortly after.

I would just post it here on Tumblr, maybe as a pee dee eff or maybe copy-n-paste.

#fight club #fight club 1999 #angel face #angel face fight club #fight club fanfic #fc #fightblr

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cherrishnoodles · 20 days

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fight club fic so good i need to make a comic out of it

#soapshipping #tyler durden #the narrator #narrator fight club #fight club #fight club 1999 #fight club fanfic

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mothtarts · 13 days

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fight club fanfic where tyler is super touchy and the narrator is touch-starved? DOES THIS EXIST IM SURE IT DOES IT HAS TOO. i had the crazy idea of touch-starved tyler who’s so used to physical violence (he loves it don’t get me wrong) but when the narrator starts getting more friendly with him he IMMEDIATELY folds

but anyways i wanna get back into writing fanfic cause of this movie

#fight club #tyler durden #fight club narrator #fight club fanfic #brain rot so real #fanfic ideas

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sp0o0kylights · 5 months

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Part Seven/ Part Eight (YOU ARE HERE)/ Part Nine

Ao3

Monsters aren't real.

The thing that's flying towards him is--a hallucination. A figment of Gareth's imagination.

The same way the feeling of time slowing to a crawl is just a trick of the light playing with his anxiety.

He'd be fine.

(It won't hurt.)

Gareth's limbs froze, locking him in place even as the manticore bore down on him.

Thankfully, Steve did not have that problem.

Gareth's shirt was snatched from the back, choking him as Steve yanked him out of the way.

It was just in time--the Manticore blew past seconds later, too-large body so close Gareth could feel the air move past him.

The stench was unimaginable.

A fuckload of noise exploded in Gareth's ears as time kicked back in. He fell hard, behind Steve as the older teen swung his nail bat with his left hand.

Huh. Gareth thought distantly as wood, nail and flesh connected. Steve's ambidextrous.

He never would have guessed.

Doesn't think anyone would.

(Should Gareth survive this, he will immediately tease Steve about it. Right after profusely thanking him for saving his life and having a meltdown about honest to God monsters existing in Hawkins.)

The fucker barked a noise, and the only comparable thing Gareth could relate it to was a seal--if a seal had played with some of the sound effect pedals the music store.

Maybe got run over by a car right after for good measure.

In one breath, the monsters' weird, elongated hand-paws raked lines through the floor.

In the next, a wing smashed high over Eddie's head. The finger-like claws at the crux of it pierced through Stewart's still-stuck door, balancing itself as it turned.

This brought the manticore's gore-filled hole of a mouth so close to Eddie's head Gareth thought it forfeit, and it was only Steve's interference that kept Eddie the Banished from being Eddie the Buried.

"Come on!" Steve bellowed.

He smacked the bat into the floor, as much a challenge as it was a distraction.

Thick saliva dripped to the floor in clumps as the manticore's head, a bulbous thing composed of five petal-like slices of flesh and too many teeth rattled in response.

A car horn trumpeted again--and if it was a warning it was one coming far too late.

The Manticore dropped its chest to the ground as it took the bait. A dark, black tipped scorpion tail rose over the back of the beast, stinger longer than Gareth's arm and wider than a sword.

Faster than Gareth could track, almost faster than Steve could parry, the tail lashed forward, stinger out like a lance.

(But Steve, wonderful, amazing, athletic Steve, caught and parried it with his bat.

Then and there, Gareth swore to never mock a jock, ever again.)

The bat met armored exoskeleton with a sickening crack!, the force of the hit shaking Steve's arms. His right foot slid back, biceps flexing as the stinger pushed against him, straining hard against nail and wood.

Steve grunted, shoes squeaking as he was forced to give ground, the Manticore overpowering him by the sheer strength of its tail.

The entire encounter had barely lasted a few seconds but without interference?

Steve would be thrown aside--and impaled.

Before Gareth could think about how stupid it was, he was on his feet and rushing to help.

He grabbed the fire poker off the ground and thrust it forward, towards the manticore's not-a-face.

Screamed “Go back to hell you piece of shit!” So loud his voice cracked.

It worked.

The beast flinched, tail rocketing back as it rose back up on all four paws, hissing in outrage.

Steve staggered with how fast the tail had moved, but caught himself, bat wavering in the air, and--

There was no reprieve.

No moment to breathe, because as soon as the stinger's gone there's a grotesque, hand-like paw swiping at them both.

Gareth fell back, only to realize he wasn't the target.

Steve was.

The claws flash in the flickering overhead lights and there wasn’t any time.

He's as good as dead and Gareth can't do anything to save him--

But Eddie can.

Sometime during the last few seconds, the older teen had pulled his knife. Jammed it deep into the back of the manticore's front leg, and twisted after the blade had sunk down to the hilt.

This, and the resulting aborted attack, saved Steve's life.

The thing wailed as the struck leg crumpled, sending the fucker’s head on a collision course with the floor.

Stewart's door jumped in its frame as the wing-claws, dug in deep into the wood, caught the manticore. Two flesh-petals scraped the floor, but the move kept it from falling-- at the cost of putting its full weight on the door.

A door already bowed. Hinges pre-fucked with, thanks to Eddie’s early meddling.

It didn't hold.

Hinges screamed as the wood bent, before gravity asserted itself and shattered it. Massive wood splinters shoot out in an explosion of wood, more than one piece embedding itself into the manticore.

Eddie scrambled backwards half turned to protect his head, saved from two large chunks of wood only by the grace of his thick leather jacket.

Several things happened at once.

The car outside honked a third time.

The manticore lunged.

And Eddie tripped.

One petal of teeth tore into him--a graze that left his leg a bloody mess and ripped a scream from his mouth.

Gareth and Steve both shot instinctively: Steve to attack the side of the manticore's head, Gareth to slam the fire poker into a wing.

(One second turned into three.)

The manticore in turn, leapt backwards, head shaking with the hit of Steve's bat--and Gareth had exactly one half-second to realize all they had done up until this moment was piss it off before the wing he'd struck swept out.

It struck him in the gut and Steve in the chest, sending both of them flying.

Gareth's back met the floor a second time expelling all the air from his lungs, vision going dark at the edges as his head hit the floor.

(Three seconds turned to seven.)

This time he physically couldn't move, too stunned as Eddie screamed Steve's name.

Stewart, Gareth realized, was screaming too.

(Seven seconds became eighteen, until Gareth's chest could take in air again, the loud ringing in his ears easing somewhat.)

He kept blinking, thinking the weird streaks of orange light was his vision blurring, until his brain kicked in and informed him that no, those were flames he was seeing.

Gareth pushed himself up on his elbows to find that reinforcements had arrived.

Flames flew in an arc as another on-fire tennis ball struck the Manticores side. The ball bounced, flames trickling down to the floor as the monster beast shrieked.

A third ball had it slamming itself into the wall as Gareth whipped his head to the opposite end of the hallway.

Tiff and Dustin were spraying a can of something onto a number of tennis balls--the ones Gareth knew Tiff kept in her car for tennis.

Lucas loaded one into his slingshot, drawing the rubber bands back and holding so that Jeff’s lighter could turn it into a proper weapon.

He launched it once flames encompassed it fully, and Gareth watched as it flew true.

Landed to the right of the muscular, lion--like chest, flames catching every piece of skin that was touched.

A part of Gareth expected this to only distract the fucker, the same way the pieces of wood sticking out of it’s sides had barely slowed it down--but fire, apparently was its weakness.

The manticore reacted like it was being burned with acid more so than fire, dropping and rolling and ping-pinging between walls as more and more of its wing was overtaken.

Its screams turned into rapid, wracked yelps, until finally it threw itself so hard into a wall that it fell through it.

For a moment a dark hole remained open.

Gray pieces of ash lazily floated out, giving them all a glimpse into a terrifying, dark blue forest, red lightning slashing the sky above before the hole re-sealed itself.

(It closed the way a wound did. All sides creeping in at a speed far too fast for human skin, but was just slow enough to make the wall appear like a living membrane instead of wood and plaster.)

For a long moment, the only thing Gareth could hear was all his friends' harsh panting.

"Did you kill it?" Stewart asked, head peeking around the corner.

Eddie looked to Steve to answer.

Which he did.

"Rule number two, man.” Steve raked a hand through his hair, trying to comb out the sweat that had collected at his temples after he climbed to his feet. “If you can’t see the body, it’s not dead.”

Stewart crept cautiously into the hall, looking as shell shocked as Gareth felt. "Why the hell isn't that rule one?”

"I don't know, the kids made the rules. You can ask them.”

Gareth’s head pulsed unhappily, but Gareth had other concerns as he made his way to his feet.

“How bad is it?” He asked as he made his way over, Eddie still on the ground.

“I’m alright.” Eddie lied, as if they all couldn’t see the sticky patch of blood on his torn jeans.

"Stop talking, start walking!" Dustin yelled at them.

“Eddie’s injured, give us a minute!” Steve yelled back. “God. Go make yourself useful and get my medkit!”

“I’m fine, it’s fine! ” Eddie yelled out right after, voice waspish in his pain.

It convinced absolutely no one, and in fact, caused several people to come down the hallway towards him.

Lucky for him, Steve made it there first.

Dropping to his knees in front of Eddie, he gently moved a ringed hand away from the wound, giving it a critical once over as Gareth and Stewart hovered.

“It’s not bad.” Eddie tried to argue, wincing as he poked around his leg, Steve continually having to bat his hands away. “If we can wrap it I’ll be able to walk out of here.”

“I won’t know until I see more of it.” Tiff said, Jeff and Grant right on her heels to circle Eddie and Steve. “But he might be right for once--there’s not much blood. You’re gonna lose the pants though.”

“Noooo.” Eddie said, in a poor mimic of one of his D&D voices.

“Not to rush you, but we need to get out of here.” Jeff cast an anxious look over at the wall, and Gareth nodded his agreement.

This wasn’t a safe place right now.

(Had likely never been a safe place, if it was birthing out monsters like the manticore.)

Steve looked up at Eddie, holding his gaze.

“Think you can hobble over to the cars if two of us help?”

He got a sharp nod back.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now hop to it.” Tiff said with a clap. Her voice was dry, tone almost sarcastic, but Gareth heard the unease in it

Not that anyone needed any convincing to get the hell out of dodge.

("I'm going to take up running." Eddie told him later, hands shaking from pain as Gareth drove Van Helsing after FrankenCar, Grant's Ford Escort

They had managed to wrap Eddie’s leg up in a quick bandage with the medkit. Gareth hadn’t truly been able to bring himself to look at the wound, but he’d caught a glimpse.

The fang marks stood out on Eddie’s pale skin, and ran in so many rows it looked like he’d shoved half his leg into a shark's mouth.

Tiffany insisted it was more horrific looking than it was actually horrific, and given Eddie had made at least three “am I gonna lose the leg, Doc?” jokes, Gareth believed her.

Still--it was weird, to drive Eddie’s van.

Weirder still to see Steve's Beemer (unnamed on grounds that Hellfire couldn't decide between the Batmobile and the BeemHolder) lead their little procession--though it had been a fight to get Steve to drive the car instead of ride along with Eddie.

"We both know you’re not seriously considering going running.” Gareth told him, voice shaking. “Which is unfortunate, because I'm going to make you anyway."

His fingers tightened hard on the steering wheel.

“I’m going to make everyone go running.”

It was a testament to how scared both of them were that they ended the conversation there.

No joke, no walking back what they'd said.

Running apparently, was back to being a core survival skill and Gareth very much enjoyed staying alive.)

xXx

Gareth hadn’t asked why the Byers house was the chosen place to regroup.

Had kind of assumed that it had been picked because Will’s mother wasn’t home.

Definitely was not expecting an adult to come flying out of the door with the air of a frazzled border collie, herding kids inside before freezing when she caught sight of Eddie.

Or rather: Eddie being carefully pulled out of Van Helsing by Steve and Jeff, cursing and whining the whole way.

“You big baby, you’re not that hurt.” Jeff huffed as Eddie’s squirming almost forced him to let go, resulting in Eddie gripping at Steve’s sweater like a liferaft.

“You can talk when you’re the one that got bit by a monster, Jeffrey.” Eddie snapped back, hopping on his good leg. “I almost died!”

“Steve said it just barely grazed you--”

“Steve was busy trying to keep it off of me to really notice what was happening! Unlike you. What were you doing, Jeff? Honking the fucking car horn?”

“I wasn’t the one honking--”

They continued to bicker as Miss Byers marched forward.

Gareth expected her to yell--and given the way Eddie’s eyes went wide at the sight of her, possibly even deny them entrance.

Shoo them away or send them home.

It wouldn’t be the first time a member of Hellfire had been beaten, only for the adults around them to act like they were the ones causing trouble.

Instead, she earned Gareth’s respect immediately by moving alongside Steve and asking; “Is anyone else injured?”

Barely waited for the shake of Steve’s head before spinning on her heel and heading back inside, yelling all the way.

“Will, fetch me towels. Jonathan--get the medkit! ”

“No worries, Miss Byers. Stevie here already has one.” Eddie said, before his attempts to charm her fell utterly flat when he accidentally jostled his leg and hissed out a curse.

“Steve’s not as good as mine, hun.” Her eyes swept over his leg, calculating. “Is that bite what I think it is?”

“Related.” Steve answered, starting the lengthy process of getting Eddie inside.

“Shit.” She sighed, and for the first time that night Gareth realized she too, wore the same haunted look Steve did.

Which meant she'd believe them.

A part of him, the part who was still a teenager, a kid in his own right, relaxed that an adult knew.

As with most of Hellfire, Gareth didn’t typically trust adults, but his relationship with his own parents was slightly better than most of the others. It led him to such beliefs like that maybe, just maybe, this would be the end of the monsters.

That he’d never face a thing like that outside of D&D, ever again. That whatever events haunted Steve would be handled by the proper authorities.

(That they’d be okay. Everyone would be okay.)

Sirens sounded in the distance, and even as Gareth walked inside the house he knew it wasn’t true.

Whatever all this was?

It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Munson?” A rumpled Jonathan Byers said, blinking like an owl hit with sunlight as the Steve-Eddie-Jeff procession went past.

He got a half-assed roguish grin and a waggle of fingers while Steve rolled his eyes over Eddie’s head.

“What happened!?” Jonathan asked, as Joyce bustled past him, relieving Jonathan of the medkit.

“It’s a long story, but we have a code red at the lab.”

Gareth knew he was frazzled, purely by the fact his hands once again went to mess with his hair, right after helping Eddie down into a chair.

“Which they knew apparently.”

‘They’ was accompanied by Steve jerking his thumb towards the living room--where the kids were talking to themselves in a huddle.

Outside, the sirens grew louder.

Jonathan looked to the living room and back, before heaving a sigh so world weary it was almost impressive. “Of course they did.”

“Demodog?” Miss Byers asked as she laid out various medical supplies on her kitchen table, pausing every so often to stare at Eddie’s leg.

“It was a manticore!” One of the kids yelled.

Gareth wasn't surprised to learn some of the brats were listening in.

There was a pause, as Miss Byers stared quizzically at Steve.

“It's like a demodog but much larger?” He told her, making an awkward shape with his hands that explained absolutely nothing. “With wings? Oh--and a scorpion tail.”

“It was terrifying.” Stewart added in a mutter, all of Hellfire awkwardly camped themselves around Eddie.

Which wasn’t good, given the frown on Miss Byers face as she carefully cut away even more of his jeans and their shitty attempt at band-aiding his wound.

It was the face of someone who was about to cause pain in an attempt to heal, and knew it.

For all that he was their front-man and self-proclaimed shepherd of Hellfire, Eddie's pain tolerance was absolute shit.

The guy could take a punch well enough, and the rings on his hands meant business when he hit back--but when adrenaline wasn't flowing?

Eddie broke down faster than his van did.

This whole thing was a bit of a sore spot. Something Eddie had admitted once under extreme duress had come from his father repeatedly telling him a man needed to be tough, and a Munson man even tougher.

(The duress in question was during one particularly animated D&D fight.

Eddie had gotten too excited and slapped an open palm down on top of a pointy figure, embedded it well into his skin.

The incident had derailed the campaign entirely and caused Hellfire as a whole to learn that their fearless leader really hated people watching him cry.)

Needless to say, a room full of children, his friends, his crush, and one of said kids' mothers wasn't exactly an ideal set up for Eddie to lose it.

So Gareth set himself up as a sort of barrier, blocking Eddie's view from the living room (and hopefully, vice versa, before making eyes at his friends to do the same.

Thankfully Jeff at least, caught on.

Communication was given through pointed looks and nudging elbows, but quickly enough, Hellfire managed to make a decently solid barrier between the kids (and Jonathan, who was doing an amazing job of chewing out said children) leaving Steve and Gareth as the sole onlookers.

“Alright, someone start talking.” Miss Byers loudly commanded, as she finally unearthed Eddie’s wounds.

To Eddie, she offered a well-used bottle of Tylenol, muttering quiet apologies before she began cleaning his very gross looking wound.

“Hey--” Gareth himself muttered, half praying he’d magically think of an excuse for Steve to fuck off, only to realize Hellfire’s jock had actually moved into the kitchen.

A line of mismatched mugs and cups was taking form on the counter, and it took a minute of carefully looking anywhere but at Eddie as Miss Byers worked to figure out Steve was making hot chocolate.

Figured that was probably smart, given Grant looked so tense Gareth expected his head to explode at any second.

(The loud arguing from the kids as they tried to explain didn't help any.)

A thought that Jonathan also seemed to have, given he put on a voice that sounded far to fatherly for Gareth's comfort and bellowed;

“Alright, enough!”

--which at least got him the silence he wanted.

“One at a time!” Jonathan parented from the living room. “Will, you start. Dustin you’re up next, then Mike, then El.”

He put his hands on his hips and Gareth nearly laughed aloud, because apparently the children weren't the only ones picking up Steve's mannerisms.

“Start from when you decided to sneak out without telling anybody but Steve.”

“If it makes you feel better we didn't actually tell Steve.” Dustin chirped.

Jonathan stared at him, and judging from his face alone Gareth expected utter hell to erupt from his mouth.

Instead they got a sort of quiet: “That does actually make me feel a bit better, thanks.”

Steve scoffed from the kitchen in response, which thankfully covered Eddie’s pained hiss from where Miss Byers was patting hydrogen peroxide into his bite mark.

Unfortunately for Jonathan, the kids came up with their own order and as always, let Dustin and Mike be their talking pieces.

“Like we told everyone else, it started because Will and El sensed something--” One began, right as red and blue lights splashed across the walls.

The source of the siren--a police truck that, judging bu the loud crunch of tires sliding on gravel and a shriek of breaks--had arrived.

Several of the children (plus Grant) cursed.

“Who called Hopper?!”

“He’s El’s dad idiot, of course someone called him.”

“Come on Max didn’t we talk about calling people names--”

Eddie tensed, as did the majority of the room, as loud, pounding footsteps tore up the front porch.

“I called him.” Miss Byers said as she rose from her crouch, apparently done re-bandaging Eddie.

She weaved her way through the room and was nearly taken out by her own front door when it was flung open to reveal the man himself, who looked like he’d spent the night fist-fighting his way through a bar, in the dark.

“El?!” He bellowed, eyes frantically scanning the room before landing on her.

The relief was so immediate it seemed to make him slump for a second.

Or rather, long enough for him to draw in enough air to get out a proper yell. “Someone better start explaining, right now. Starting with you Michael Wheeler!”

It was only then, as the man himself stepped into the light, that Gareth finally figured out why he looked sort of--off.

Unreal even, like a figure stepping out of a dream and into reality.

Jim Hopper, Chief of Hawkins Police Department, was wearing Scooby Doo pajamas.

The top was a faded orange color, boasting an image of a footstep in the center of a magnifying glass.

The bottoms were green, the head of the famed Great Dane patterned all over.

Combined?

It was Gareth's last straw.

‘You cannot be having a panic attack over the Chief’s pajamas.’ A far away part of Gareth thought hysterically, as his vision kaleidoscoped.

God, was he so fucking lame.

#adopt a jock #pre steddie #steddie #gareth emerson #steven harrington #eddie munson #the hellfire club #the party #and #a manticore #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #hellfire adopts steve #RIP to hellfire you had a good run not knowing about any of this lol #tw small injury mention #tw panic attack mention there at the end #cause Gareth just kinda paused his while fighting for his life lol

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ao3commentoftheday · 2 years

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The first rule of RPF fandoms is we don't talk about RPF to the people the stories are about.

The second rule of RPF fandoms is we don't talk about RPF to the people the stories are about.

The third rule of RPF fandoms is talking about RPF includes asking the people if they are okay with RPF about them.

The fourth rule of RPF fandoms is do not, under ANY circumstances, send a link of a fic to the person or people that fic is about.

Not even if that person asks for fic recs.

If someone wants to know that badly what stories are being written about them, they can google it for themselves. Otherwise, leave them in blissful ignorance.

The fifth rule of RPF fandoms is harassment is never okay.

It doesn't matter what someone is writing or who they're writing about, the stories are fake and the characters are imaginary versions of real life people, but the people themselves aren't doing anything besides living their regular lives.

If this is your first RPF fandom, read the rules twice.

#thought about that fight club meme for fanfic #and decided to do a lazy version #text only #I'm not actually in an RPF fandom myself #so if I've missed any feel free to add on lol

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dumb-bitchass · 8 months

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Fight Club~ how they'd act with sick! reader

a/n. i've been sick for 2 weeks and am DONE so i'm finally writing these as a small comfort cause why not

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Jack (narrator):

• would take care of you to the best of his knowledge and abilities

• i feel like he's terrible at taking care of his own self when he's sick, so he'll try his very hardest to take good care of you

• even though all he really knows what to do is just keep showing you soft affection

• wouldn't care too much about getting sick from you- might welcome it so you could be sick and miserable together

• takes out your favorite movies on vhs and props your head up with a pillow, making sure you can see

• would sit by you and put your legs across his lap, almost subconciously

• like i said, he's a bit clueless about taking care of a sick person, so you'd probably have to ask him to get you a food or drink

• he'll do it immediately

• even though he knows it hurts you to talk and you probably won't respond to him, he'll talk to you anyway

• about pretty much anything, really- you find it cute and distracting from feeling sickly

• if you're one of those people (like me) who can't sleep when they're sick, he's more than happy to stay on the couch with you

• cause he can't sleep anyway !!!

• would offer to put your head in his lap

• brushes your hair out of your face, to which you grimace and mumble something about using it to hide your "sick face"

• he'd reply in a teasing tone how you still look beautiful, but you know he means it (and you literally c a n n o t)

• fixes the blanket around you so you're cozy

• softly strokes your hair and twirls it around his fingers

• eventually dozes off with you sleeping peacefully (and nasally unfortunately) on his lap

Tyler:

• would either not care at all about getting whatever sickness you have or would avoid you like you were a deadly virus

• i feel like he'd kinda be inbetween, like he'd be okay getting close to you but not too close

• would definitely find ways to entertain you while you're glued to the couch

• like showing you new martial arts moves

• sometimes it makes you smile through the pain, other times you're left incredibly confused

• but your throat hurts too bad to ask him any questions about the whats or whys so you just have to lay back and watch

• sits a bit away from you and goes on philosophical rants about the societal repercussions of being sick but somehow benefits vital workers like yourself, paired with deep stares into your soul

• ends it with a smile and kiss on your forehead, then scurries off

• leaves you more confused

• would be nice enough to make you some sort of soup or other food you could eat

• if you refuse to eat, just know he will find a way to make you, i mean it's tyler

• would resort to feeding you if needed, you can't get out of it now

• he probably would feel bad leaving you while so miserable, so he'd send jack to the store to get you medication of some sort

• if you ask really really really nicely, he may consider carrying you to your room to get changed into pajamas for the night

• "you better not get me sick!" he'd say firmly with a smile on his face- why does it kinda sound like a threat though?

• you're sleeping on the couch, sharing a bed is wayyyyy too risky for him

#fight club #narrator x reader #fight club narrator x reader #tyler durden x reader #fight club x reader #fight club headcanons #fight club narrator #tyler durden #fanfic

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narraticn · 2 months

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Im gonna do something drastic

#fight club #tyler durden #the narrator #tyler/narrator #soapshipping #fight club 1999 #‘i came so close to saying tylers name i could feel it vibrate inside my mouth’#WHAT #reads like a fanfic genuinely #i think ive read fics with similar lines.

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freakyunderclublights · 5 months

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Would it be crazy as fuck to write a Bottoms fanfic set in the Hunger Games universe?

Am I maybe still working on it……

Will it be out by the end of the weekend….

#bottomsmovie #bottoms fanfic #bottoms 2023 #ao3 #wlw #fanfic #hazelbottoms #josiebottoms #pjbottoms #brittany bottoms #gay fight club #gay fight club gone wild #isabel x josie #hazel callahan #hazel x pj #hunger games #hunger games au #hunger games but if useless lesbians were in it

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kausstar · 2 months

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⟣ kaus can’t stop think about… how if jack has a secret crush on tyler’s girlfriend. narrator is referred to as jack bc that’s what he calls himself.

tyler who has obviously been seeing jack’s lingering and longing glances towards you but who doesn’t care to mention it. he isn’t too much of the protective type unless it’s with random strangers so since it’s jack he isn’t going crazy over his little crush. honestly, he thinks it’s kinda funny, even grins to himself when he notices his glances. he doesn’t blame him, you’re hot and he knows it, you know it. tyler almost encourages jack by letting you walk around the house with no pants on, letting you wear the shortest skirts you can find, and letting him get away with the longing looks, but he’d still tell you to throw on one of his shirts or jackets to remind anyone that looks that you still belong to him.

“jacket looks good on you,” he’d coo to you, grinning at you up and down, admiring the red jacket he’d worn many times on your figure. jacks already looking at the way it fits and tyler catches that when he looks over at him. “doesn’t it?” he gives a cocky grin as he asks. “yeah… she l-looks great.” he hesitates but lets the words slip from his mouth. tyler’s grin widens before moving over to wrap his arm around your waist. “see? you look good.” you’re like something tyler can openly tease almost everyone about. just waving how pretty you are in everyone’s face knowing they wouldn’t even get a fucking chance even if they begged.

#ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 midnight #remember tyler is what the narrator wants to be so obviously he wants his girl #duh!#tyler durden fanfiction #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden #tyler durden x reader #fight club fanfic #fight club #fight club x reader #the narrator #the narrator x reader #fight club 1999

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strawbby-shortcake · 3 months

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"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]

#fight club #fight club 1999 #narrator fight club #marla singer #tyler durden #fight club fanfic #imagine #drabble #meme #fight club x reader #tyler durden x reader #narrator x reader #marla x reader

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mlmxreader · 1 year

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Foundations | Tyler Durden x m!reader

anonymous asked: Tyler Durden with “I’m never enough” please?

summary: Tyler isn't used to being told no.

tws: swearing, mentions of sex (brief)

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

The soft light crept up the stairs in a dull golden haze, the muffled sounds of the television coming from the master bedroom, the scent of honey and apples drifting from the recently used bathroom; the taste of spices still lingered in the air from an earlier meal, as did the warmth that came with a recently used kitchen. Music.

Music was coming from the master bedroom, so sweet and so soft, yet the second that he realised what song was playing, he smiled; 'Hungry Like the Wolf' by Duran Duran. Oh, he had some fond memories of you connected to that song. He found himself humming as he climbed the stairs, the fifth one from the top creaking as usual.

Then there you were. Snuggled up in your bed, wearing one of his shirts, reading some old book about war that he didn't care enough to ask about; he didn't knock, just pulled the duvet back and took his place at your side.

"Tyler," you sounded almost disappointed. "I'm reading."

"And?" He scoffed.

"And," you put the book down, sighing as you shook your head. "I thought I made it clear - you're not to come back unless you really care about me."

Tyler leaned back, studying you for a moment; you couldn't be serious. You needed him, you desired him, you wanted him. You wouldn't push him away over something as trivial as feelings, he knew you wouldn't.

With his brows furrowed, he tilted his head to the side, daring to let out a sharp laugh. "You're not serious."

You nodded. "Deadly, Mister Durden."

Tyler huffed, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid," you growled. "Every time you come over, it's always for the same thing, and if you find a better man, then suddenly I don't exist for the night."

He shook his head. "It's not like that and you know it."

"I'm never enough for you," you told him. "So why don't you just leave? Huh? Why don't you go out and find a different guy and break his heart?"

Tyler clenched his jaw, daring to gently hold your face in his hands as he forced you to look into his pretty blue eyes; there used to be a time where just the smallest of touches from him sent shocks down your spine and made every nerve feel like it was on fire, there used to be a time where Tyler made you feel amazing, made you feel like you were on top of the world and invincible... now, he just made you feel regret. He made you feel a fool.

"I'm here, ain't I?" He hissed. "I could be out with any guy in the world right now, I could be fucking balls deep in any guy in the city if I wanted to. But I'm here."

"So why don't you leave?" You asked, pushing his wrist so that he let go of you. "Why don't you just fuck off?"

"Because I want to be here," he argued quietly. "With you."

"No," you shook your head, starting to push his shoulder to get some distance. "Tyler, this is the last time I ever let you in... you have to leave. Now."

"C'mon, baby," he huffed. "One more chance."

The last thing that you wanted was for him to make you feel like you were an idiot again; you knew that things with Tyler would always be jaded and cracked, too many niches and crevices that caused the foundations to start to crumble, but then... he was always there. Even at your lowest, he was there. He didn't just show up when you were in the mood, he showed up a lot more than that.

He bought you flowers, always bright yellow daffodils. He made you laugh. He cooked for you. He never cleaned, but at least he didn't make much of a mess when he stayed over. He didn't do his laundry but at least he didn't have much anyway. He never disrespected you to your face, never talked about you behind your back.

Maybe it was better to have crumbling foundations than none at all, where Tyler was concerned. Your fingertips were bloody and raw from holding onto those crumbling foundations for so long, but you... you couldn't bring yourself to let go.

You sighed, swiping a hand down your face. "I don't want to forgive you."

"You don't have to," Tyler purred, moving to straddle your waist, his hands on your chest as he splayed his fingers and gave you that cheeky grin that used to make you feel so alive. "Does it look like I'm about to ask for it?"

Your hands came to his waist, fingertips digging into his soft flesh as you swallowed thickly. "No. You never will, either."

"You're fucking right there," he nodded. "You gonna give me another chance?"

You clenched your jaw, hesitant to tell him and to admit it but you didn't want to let go of those foundations. No matter how stupid and regretful you felt, no matter how much your fingers bled and bruised, you couldn't bring yourself to let go. "Fine."

He started to lean down, expecting a kiss, but you placed your hand on his throat, pushed him back and kept him at arm's length. "Oh, baby."

"You're not getting shit," you told him sternly. "Tyler, you're not making me into a fucking fool again - if you really, really want me this badly, you have to prove it."

Tyler huffed, flopping onto his back beside you as he grumbled and folded his arms across his chest; it should have been so easy to win you back and to get you to stop acting stupid, but it seemed like you were suddenly immune to him. He wasn't sure what to do.

Nobody ever told him no, told him that he had to work for what he wanted; he only ever had to apply his charm a little thick to get what he want, and that included you, once upon a time. Maybe being around him so much made you more immune to it than others.

For once in his life, Tyler would actually have to work for what he wanted.

#mlem writes #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden x reader #tyler durden #fight club 1999 #fight club imagine #fight club x reader #fight club fanfic #fight club

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