#i know i've been bottling my emotions for 20+ years and it sure does work out for me (no)

[interstellarvacuumcleaner]

it's not that i'm an ungrateful asshole it's that every trip i've been at was a nightmare and i can successfully hold back tears only for about a week

[6knotty6thotty6]

So a couple of months ago, I saw a YouTube video that was an audio recording of season 5, episode 6 of Bojack Horseman, “Free Churro.” In the episode, the main character, Bojack Horseman, spends 20 minutes giving a eulogy at his mother’s funeral. There’s one big problem though, his mother was an abusive bitch. His eulogy is him trying to contemplate what she meant by her drying words, “I see you,” and whether or not she loved him. As someone who has a dead parent who was abusive, this is probably my favorite episode of any show ever for how much it helped me understand my feelings. The comments section is filled with people sharing their pain with their abusive families, but one comment stood out to me above all the others by how raw and relatable it was. This comment was by a YouTuber named Moonstruck. At the bottom of this post is a link to her channel. Please support her. After reading this, she deserves a million subscribers. Also please watch Bojack Horseman. (I corrected some of the grammatical errors to make it easier to read)

Disclaimer: Child abuse, bullying, trauma, and mental health:

Moonstruck: 

This is a great monologue, but one part of it, in particular, really caught my attention was the 'grand gesture' bit.

When I was a kid, I read this book called "Chicken Soup for the Soul." There's a shitload of them. I don't remember which particular one it was. I hated the whole series because it's just someone profiting off a bunch of other people's stories rather than trying to write their own, in my opinion. 

Anyway.

This one story that I remember, the ONLY one I remembered,  was sent in by a little girl. She wrote about how her father never told her that he loved her. He never once, in her whole life, said the words "I love you." I don't remember her mom being mentioned, maybe she was dead; it doesn't matter. The point is her dad was basically an emotionless asshole. Well, one day, this girl gets sick. Really sick. Possibly on her deathbed sick. She wrote that one day she woke up to find a necklace sitting on her nightstand that had a pendant that looked like her dog. She said she held it to her heart and cried because that necklace said all the things her father never had.

I thought, "What a load of bullshit."

A cheap trinket doesn't make up for years and years of emotional neglect. Anyone can buy a thing and toss it your way. Hell, he didn't even hand it to her himself, just left it there for her to find if/when she woke up, then left her alone again to possibly die.

A lot of people say that actions speak louder than words, in cases like political protests and shit. While that's true, scenarios that this that girl are different. Gifts can never replace the words, "I love you."

When I was a kid, my father never told me he loved me. My mother didn't either, but she's a whole other kettle of fish. I would say 'my biological mother or father,' but I never got adopted ones, so who gives a shit. Anyway. My father was rarely around, and when he was, he just spent the entire time fighting with my mother and leaving again. He would do and say anything that could get him to spend less time in the house with her. With us. I can't blame him. If I could've left during those times, I would have. I tried more than once. I even earned the nickname 'runaway' from a family friend because of it. 

I was told that I was worthless as early as I could understand words. I don't know what it is about me that set my mother off, but she HATED me. I was always told how expensive I was to keep alive and how I wasn't worth it. If I dared ask for anything, she would remind me how much she spent just to keep me from starving to death and that it was too much already. On the rare occasion I was given something, it was so she could use it as a threat. She was like, "Sure, you can have that toy horse since we got your sister a real one, but you better behave or we'll give it to her and let her break it." Or "Oh, fine, we can keep this dog as a FAMILY pet (NOT YOURS), but if you do something we don't like, we'll take it away and kill it." 

Oh, yeah. I have a sister. She’s cut from the same cloth as our mother. I don't consider any of them family anymore. She was two years older than me. She was the "we should have stopped while we were ahead" kid. Anything she wanted, she got. 

"Mom, can I have an award-winning horse and expensive dressage lessons?"

"Sure!"

"Mom, can I have a car?"

"No problem!"

"Mom, can you pay for my ballet lessons?"

"Absolutely!"

She was the golden child. The one that could do no wrong and wasn't a mistake. Even after she totaled her car, got arrested for an underage DUI, and got pregnant three times in high school, she was still the good one. I never even asked to go to school dances, parties, or go out with the one friend I had. My sister liked to see me in pain. She'd tell our mom that I did things just to get me in trouble. Whether it involved blaming me for things she did or fabricating stuff, she'd say whatever it took to get my mother to beat me while she watched and laughed. Oh, yeah, our mom was BIG on physical punishment. I've been whipped with everything from a riding crop, a wooden paddle, spoons, and especially belts. Anything that was close at hand when my mother got irritated, I've been hit with it. 

At one point, my sister had three tall, beautiful show-worthy horses. I was allowed to keep a sickly old pony for all of a week before she was taken away, then I'd get called ungrateful for asking why we had to get rid of HER instead of one of the horses. Even though my mother said it cost too much to keep them all. With horses being obviously too rich for my blood, I asked for something cheaper, and for once, I got it. I was given a baby goat that one of our neighbors' goats had abandoned for being too weak, and they didn't have time to raise. I loved that goat. I bottle raised him, and named him Ben. He was my best friend for a while. When he grew up, he got so big that I was able to stand on his back to grab tree branches and pull them down so he could eat the leaves. I walked him on a leash like a dog every day. I loved him so much. My mother had me enter him in a show, and we won ninth place! I was thrilled to have something to show against my sister's collection of dressage show ribbons. I finally had proof that I could do something right! Sure, the prize money was taken away from me, but I still had Ben.

But Ben didn't come home with me after the show. It turns out he was sold to a slaughterhouse because that show was for meat goats. I didn't know until he was already gone. Of course, my mother punished me for being upset and even forced me to write a thank-you card to the people who bought his meat. 

My mother was always like that. Anything I loved was used as a threat. I eventually accepted that loving anything was a waste of time. I learned to detach myself from my feelings, and I got really good at it. I can completely turn off my emotional reaction to anything. One time I had to put down one of the egg-laying hens at work that got too sick to save, and I felt nothing while bringing down the ax. When I lost out on a job that could have changed my life, I told myself how stupid it was to hope for anything good. Any positive emotion I felt got me punished, so I learned to feel nothing at all. To this day, I still have trouble feeling things, even when I want to. I'm taking pills now, and they help, sometimes. 

I've had several suicide attempts. I keep a box of razor blades in my desk just to have them close. I got a tattoo of a heart with rainbows on my wrist. Partially for LGBT solidarity, but mostly to remind myself that there is still beauty in the world. I still struggle with wonder if I actually believe it or not. 

I've tried so hard to be a good kid. I never partied, never drank, never smoked even when the chances were there, and I would have greatly loved anything to make the pain stop or even just dull it a little bit. I was in the gifted and talented program at school and was able to graduate at fifteen. For a while, I was sent to a children's home where I was passed around to many people I didn't know, including a clown who I may or may not have actually been related to, until I eventually wound up out here where I am now. It's all pretty hazy, and the details get scrambled. 

It's been 10 years since I've had contact with my mother and sister. I can't even keep in touch with the one friend I had, even after I lived with her. She's tried to reach out to me, but I just… can't. I try, but I can't. Sometimes, I can almost pretend that my past wasn't real. It's just a hazy fog that isn't really there. I want to believe that if I don't allow something, or someone, who was part of that past, someone tangible and real, into my life again, then the fog will go away. This is why I can't do it. I know I'm a terrible friend. Ariel, if you're reading this, I'm sorry. You're better off without me in your life anyway. 

I typed all of this out because sometimes, about fifty dollars or so shows up in my PayPal from my father's email address. I don't know if it's from him or from her using his email, but it doesn't matter either way. The point is I know my mother is the one sending the money.

I know my mother likes to think she's a good person. She went to church every Sunday, and probably still does. She organized a lot of church events and participated in every church function. I had to be an altar server for several years until I aged out of it and was in the choir. She kept going to that church even after the priest got drunk, called me many horrible names in front of everyone, and was revealed to be a pedophile that raped a little boy at gunpoint. She probably still goes to that same church and organizes things. She likes being in charge. She likes having people look at her and say, "That there is a good person."

But are you, though, Mom? Are you really a good person? Were you a good person when you hit me? When you lied to me? When you laughed with my sister about how much I got hurt for things I didn't do? Were you a good person every time you told me you'd kill my cat or leave my dog at the pound? Were you a good person when you sold Ben to be eaten, knowing that I loved him? Were you a good person when you made me read "A child called It" and told me that you'd start doing the things in that book to me if I didn't behave? Were you a good person every time you told my father I was a liar whenever I tried to tell him what you were doing to me? Were you a good person when you told me I wasn't worth the cost of being alive? Were you? 

Fuck you, Mom! Keep your fucking money! A necklace on the nightstand isn't enough. A trinket can't heal years and years and years of abuse and hurt. You can't hide these scars under dollar bills. I hope you die alone. I know I probably will, but I don't even care anymore. I lost the ability to care thanks to you. You can't make up for the things you did and the things you didn't say now. Too little, too late! 

[jungxk]

// rant

i'm jus so heartbroken rn i've been crying for the past hour i jus need to put my feelings out there, i hope it's ok w you.

my mum wakes up today and jus starts berating me bc i didnt put washed dishes into the cabinets & the kitchen looked messy for her. i'm supposed to do it bc there's nothing else i actually do but yesterday i had woken up in the evening nd they called me to pray straight away so i totally forgot about it (coupled w the fact that i dont like doing it either cuz there's always sm dishes nd it's such a hassle). she jus started scolding me senseless nd im someone who doesnt get mad easily, even if i do i tend to stay quiet bc i dont like conflict & angry emotions are ugly. but i couldnt stop it today? she kept calling me selfish nd she's been calling me that the past few days as well bc i never help out w chores or anything. she's always asking me "what do u do for this family" or "what do u do in this house" every single time nd ofc i cant say shit bc i dont. i'm doing uni online nd it's really not that easy but bc i dont talk to my family like at all, they think i'm all good. the other day i pissed them off nd my parents straight up said "why do we need to pay for ur uni ure not doing anything anyway" & i jus... i didnt even know if i even deserve to feel sad over it. they were asking me what i wanna do after uni as if im not just in my first year & when i said im not sure they got so mad and my mum purposely said "just marry her off" to push my buttons into giving them an answer. they keep saying i'm pushing them into being the worst and saying the worst to me but how is that fair? they're parents? adults? i'm jus 20 & i can control my emotions? but today really jus pushed me she got so mad at me for the littlest things nd i jus exploded. I asked her why she's mad and she's like cuz of the kitchen bla bla bla nd it got so frustrating i told her it's not my problem nd i jus wont ever eat again since all the unwashed dishes piling is my fault. nd then she got mad at me for that and scolded me. I hate being touched but mostly i hate being hit. imagine getting hit at 20 years old bc my mother is too emotionally unstable that she cant take a few seconds by herself to calm her anger down. I hate it. nd bc i said it's not my problem she came nd told me "yea it won't be ur problem when i die too! i'll make sure when i do, u never come see me." jus... what kind of parent says that? i'm so careful w what i say & i slip sometimes bc i'm human but how can a mother say that? she doesnt know anything about me. she doesn't know i dont like being hit, she doesnt know i dont like it when ppl act impulsively on emotions. sometimes i feel like i really am the problem nd that i'm really selfish. spending shit ton of money to get me to study, maybe i am selfish. i dont mind it. i know myself well enough to hate things about myself. but to have parents who barely know me as a person rather than a daughter, getting this much mad at me for smthn so simple jus makes me so sad. bc i was doing the task when she asked. she does things like this then wonders why i cant ever talk to her. entire family thinks i'm immature bc i behave exactly how they treat me. 20 years. I never ask for much. but it's starting to feel like asking to study in the uk was my greatest downfall. it feels like i dont deserve this. every day i'm itching to get away, to live alone bc they've made me feel like i can never work well in groups. it's always somehow my fault as if they havent been invalidating me nd my feelings since birth.

nd i can never tell them all these bc i'm never confident in them. i'm never confident in whether i would be accepted nd comforted without ridicule or scolding. my brother & father tell me it's like that, that jus bc i may get a scolding shouldn't stop me from being open. but what kind of stupidity is that? my mother who makes me feel like the world is ending when i accidentally break smthn, that it wasn't an accident but rather it's me nd that i jus cant do a good job— where is the comfort i can ever find coming to her w a problem?

nd bc of that we're not close. bc of that she's closer to my cousins & everyone else really. they've never concerned themselves to talking about family issues w me but when i dont know, they shame me, saying i never bother to ask— how would i know when to ask? should they be telling me when there's smthn going on?

this makes the concept of family so repelling for me. there is inherently no reason to ever have a child that isnt selfish or self fulfilling. what they do as parents is to make them feel as important nd respected as they expect from the child. but it's never like that w south asians. emotions dont exist if ure the child nd apparently getting mad is a norm nd shouldn't stop u from being emotional w someone.

at times i tell myself that i should pay back every penny my parents spent on me. bc sometimes it feels like it's being used to make me act or feel a certain way. i dont wanna feel this way. theyre my parents, i know theyre good people. but i'm so hurt by the things going on nd the things from the past. my mother invalidates me sm. she more or less kinda blamed me for feeling useless and depressed last year. my brother was telling her to go easy on me nd she got so mad & frustrated bc she didnt know what she was doing wrong. "if she feels so useless why doesnt she do anything about it?" like that was such a golden chance for her to have comforted me nd i couldve opened up? but she ruined it nd hurt me again.

last year i lived w her alone nd my dad was in our home country. I was having some troubles w him gone but i dont call or text bc... it always felt like a drag. it never felt like a conversation nd the only time it did was when i complained to him about my mum. so much shit happened between my mum and i & this person advised me to jus write some of my feelings to her. so i wrote her a long letter nd i included saying how not having my dad was hard on me too. flash forward im in my home country & w my dad. i know nobody here bc i didnt grow up here. i'm doing online uni & basically have to stay indoors cuz of covid. she brings that letter up when she was to berate me nd it jus feels so uncomfortable for me? like ok my actions dont line up but i wrote that cuz i was looking for comfort nd understanding. if i knew it was going to be held against me, i would not have done it? "u said it was so hard for u without him, so what do u even do for him here now?"— what can i do? i'm just 20 nd the situation im in is not normal? i'm grateful to be w my dad again but what can i do? &it always freaking comes down to house chores. i try my best. when our maid doesnt come i do my best w my tasks. i know it's not enough but i jus... i dont even know. ig that part of me is selfish nd lazy.

it's so suffocating here. all my feelings are bottled up nd im so scared what that would do to me in the future. but at least i know i'm too selfish to ever spend the rest of my life w someone.

sorry for the long rant. i hope this didnt ruin ur mood or anything i jus need an outlet nd ur blog jus feels so comforting nd welcoming. thank u for listening to me nd my feelings. God bless u really kssjdjsj

i’m rlly sorry this is happening to you bby. idk what race u are but this sounds so much like that asian mentality where emotions are black and white and comfort in any way is out of the question. ur still rlly young tho so ur relationship with ur parents has room to improve i promise. i think it’s rlly important for u to move out whenever u can tho bc that’s what rlly improves the relationship. having said this i do think the way your mum talks to u/treats u is emotionally and mentally abusive so whether you want to uphold that tie with her in the future is ur choice i just rlly hope u get somewhere safe and away from ur family soon x

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 4)

A.n: Lol so things are about to get very Adult Themed up in here. Children do not read thank you. My consious demands it.

Warnings: Light smut, dark themes, mention of rape

Word Count: 4200+

MASTERLIST

Playlist

They shouldn't have been caught as soon as they were... and yet.

The second Jerome and Y/n had gotten outside the fun house, they'd been overrun by cops. The two had made it pretty far, but then someone had tackled Y/n from behind. The boy had been surprised when, from his spot on the ground, he heard Jerome's voice of all people scream his name. The redhead had paused, allowing another cop to take him down as well. Now they were being transported. Jerome, to Arkham, and Y/n just to regular jail. They hadn't determined him criminally insane yet, though it seemed to be going that direction as Y/n and Jerome spent the entire ride flirting with each other and cracking up at each other's jokes. They'd only quieted when each of the cops in the back with them held two guns to Y/n and Jerome respectively, threatening them. Jerome hadn't been that quiet or still for a while.

Y/n was the first to be escorted out of the back of the truck, arms handcuffed behind him. He was taken into GCPD offices, a smile on his face. One that promptly was wiped clean off when he was pushed inside and Jim Gordon stood waiting for him, Bruce and Alfred on either side of him.

Bruce moved first. He jogged to Y/n, a mixed expression on his face. The last time he'd seen Bruce, they'd been much different people. Y/n had left him behind to train with Penguin- no doubt Gordon had told him about the event, and surely he'd seen Y/n right at Oswald's side ever since. Until tonight, where Y/n had been found with Jerome- considered the worst of all the Gotham psychos.

Despite everything, Bruce seemed to be worried and relieved for the most part. The two boys stopped as they stood in front of each other. Bruce frowned, reaching up to touch his fingers to a wound on Y/n's forehead. It must have been from the tackle. Y/n hadn't noticed until now. "You're hurt." It wasn't a question so Y/n didn't respond back. Jim approached, motioning the officer that had Y/n to follow him. Y/n was pulled away and Bruce was left behind. Y/n ended up in an interrogation room, handcuffed and facing Bullock and Gordon. Y/n knew that Bruce was on the other side of the one sided glass, though, which meant that Alfred was too.

"Y/n," Gordon began. He seemed to pause, as if unsure how to continue.

So Y/n took his cue. "Why am I here? You have Jerome, so you can't be looking for information about him. If you want to determine my psyche and where I should end up, I mean I know I'm amazing but Jim Gordon and Commissioner Bullock? Here for little ol' me? I'm flattered, honestly." Both men looked at each other. It seems they didn't realize just how far lost Y/n was.

This tactic was new to Y/n, too. Oswald had taught him to be silent and unbreakable. Pleasant but unshakable. Like his dad used to be. Nice to talk to, leaving no option to backstab. It had been very different from how Y/n acted when he was just himself.

The cockiness and ease that Y/n exhibited now was a little mix of all the personas he'd most taken to or been taught over the years. There was the complete inhuman unaffectedness that had been taught to him by Angela, mixed with the ease that Oswald had taught him, the charisma he'd absorbed from Jerome in the short time they'd spent together, and his own energy he'd always been able to call on and struggled to hide. He felt like a new person again. A person he loved being.

"We're here because Bruce trusts us," Bullock said as the silence began to stretch. "You're in a safe place now, Y/n. You can talk to us. Tell us anything. Jerome is far away and can't hurt you. You can tell us what happened."

Oh. Y/n snorted. "You guys think Jerome kidnapped me and held me against my will or something?" Bullock cleared his throat. Y/n had always been told that he looked a lot like Bruce. He had differences, obviously, but as children people would try to get his attention thinking he was Bruce. Sometimes his mom would call him by his younger brother's name. Y/n realized it must be a little startling to see the actions he was displaying on a face so similar to his brother's, when Bruce was ever the staple good boy. Bruce would become a cop, if he didn't go into dad's business after all. Y/n would become... something else. It was becoming clearer as he grew older.

"What happened to you?" Jim asked. He was shaken, obviously upset and not quite able to grip the drastic difference in the Y/n he knew versus the boy in front of him.

Y/n rolled his head back, sighing. "A lot." He began bouncing a knee. "Do you want the whole life story?"

Jim crossed his arms. "I've got time."

Y/n chuckled softly. "I mean I have nothing to hide." He pushed his head forward, letting his eyes roam around the otherwise empty, bland room. He counted the cracks in the walls and memorized the paths they took as he spoke, keeping himself calm. This was a tactic he'd learned from therapy. "I mean I had a happy childhood. Parents have their favorites. Gotham had their favorite. Bruce was Mr. Perfect. But people liked me and I had parents who were supportive and loving or whatever, so there's that." He sighed again, closing his eyes. "Then they died. I got to take control of a company I wanted nothing to do with. And you know why?" Y/n opened his eyes, looking Jim directly in the eyes. "Because I was easy to manipulate. I was young and nieve and soft. Easy to bend and break and shape. It was easy to do whatever she wanted when it came from my mouth, because I was a Wayne."

"She?" Jim asked.

Y/n‘s jaw worked. "Angela. Angela Dyer." He swallowed, tasting bitterness in his mouth. "She was new to the business. Had worked there barely four years, which made her a newbie compared to the others who'd been working 20, 50, however some odd years. She was twenty years old. Not even old enough to drink. And she was pretty. Men aren't nice when they want something from a young, pretty girl. Especially in Gotham."

Jim shifted, obviously uncomfortable. "What does she have to do with you?"

"We were fast friends when I started being there. Close in age. Both new. The higher ups just wanted a Wayne present, but with her help I actually made a place for myself. Well-" he snorted. "A place for her. She moved up fast with my help. And all those men who used to walk all over her..." He shrugged. "I didn't ask questions about it."

Bullock's eyes widened."She killed them?"

"I think she just scared the shit out of them. Lots of threats, with me to back her up and hit the yes button when she needed. Manipulation. I think women are better at it than men, on average, but she was the best." His jaw locked and he took a few seconds to loosen it. "Pretty soon we were really close. Really close." He was looking at Bullock now. Training his gaze on the older man's. Drilling a message he didn't want to say. Bullock had gone inhumanly still. "She told me it was our little secret. That she just wanted to reward me after all our hard work."

"You were fourteen," He snapped, his hands curled into fists.

Y/n smiled. He actually smiled. "I didn't know what else to do. Boys don't have those problems. Or so I thought. She climbed the latter and taught me to keep my emotions bottled up. But I wasn't good at it. One day I yelled at her when she tried to... reward me that day." He swallowed. "I freaked out and asked her not to. She kissed me. Told me that she loved me and I loved her and it was okay because obviously I was enjoying it. Told me I couldn't be gay because-"

The room was heavy. "You're..."

"Yeah," Y/n croaked. "Only my parents knew. I haven't even told Alfred or Bruce, but I told her because I didn't want her to do it the first time. Or any other time. Tried to explain that I was gay and I didn't like it. She told me I couldn't be because my body was reacting to it, so obviously I was enjoying it." Y/n swallowed again. His mouth was getting dryer by the second. "One day I told her if she didn't stop I was going to tell someone. She told me that she loved me, like she always did. Except this time, she insisted that she needed me. That she couldn't handle just being friends with me. Told me she would kill herself if I broke up with her. As if we were dating-" His voice broke off, his eyes drilling holes into the wall.

Jim stepped forward. "She didn't-"

"She did." Y/n shook his head. "I thought it was my fault too for a long time, until finally Oswald convinced me otherwise." He shook his head. "I needed to get out of my childhood house. Away from Alfred and Bruce, who I couldn't even begin to explain to. Away from insanity and memories and near death experiences. So I went with Penguin, that night. He made me feel more powerful. More in control of my life. Helped me grow up and discover myself a little." Y/n grew quiet. "Did you know that the body has automatic responses to sexual actions that have nothing to do with pleasure? Me getting off had absolutely nothing to do with whether or not I wanted her to-" He cut off. "Edward Nygma told me that one." His voice was weak and broken. He shrugged. "So there's your sob story, Gordon. That's what happened to me. Now if you'll either send me to jail or let me return to Oswald, that would be appreciated. You see that mayor of yours is kind of my best friend and he's going through a hard time- why are you looking at me like that?"

Gordon and Bullock seemed to be sick to their stomachs. "Y/n..."

"What?" Y/n demanded.

"Oswald has been missing since yesterday. No one's seen him since the interview he ran out on." Y/n went pale. "We'll get on it, I promise, but he's missing." Jim went to step forward to bring some comfort to the handcuffed boy who had obviously been through a lot for it to have all happened in just one day, but Y/n jerked away.

"What are you going to do with me?" Y/n barked. "Jail or release? I need to get out there and do your guys' job for you, and if I have to break out it might take some time."

Jim's eyes widened. "Y/n-"

"Jail or release, Gordon? Tell me. NOW!"

It was quiet for a second. "We're sending you to Arkham." Y/n's jaw went slack. "You've spent all night with Jerome, and you're a close associate with Penguin, who's a known murderer."

"You don't have any proof that I-"

Bullock was suddenly very close to Y/n's face. "Look me in the face and tell me you have never killed a man. That killing wasn't part of your little escape from jail plan? That if we release you you won't turn around and go after whatever the cause of Penguin's disappearance and kill them too? Tell me that you don't agree with the way Jerome thinks and does things. I'll let you go."

Y/n felt rage. Rage like nothing else. Like he hadn't felt in a long time. Oswald has taught him how to control and hone that red feeling that had once seized him. Usually he could cultivate it into a weapon. Now... now it was freely causing havoc inside him again and he wanted to scream. "You wanna play friend but then keep me from helping the people I care about." Y/n spit in his face, causing the older man to jerk away, wiping it off. "Fuck you, Bullock."

Bullock looked at Gordon. "He didn't say it."

Jim nodded his head. "I can't believe you tried to escape and attack Commissioner Gordon right in front of me, Y/n."

"What-?" And then Jim punched him in the face and everything went black.

When Y/n woke up, he was in a different room. Similar but obviously not the same. He sat up and looked down to see that he was in a prison jumpsuit, but it was black and white striped instead of orange. Fittingly, the room he was in was grey cement and bare, with a bed that he now lay on, another across from him, a small window slightly above him, and steel, black bars instead of a door. Was this Arkham? It wasn't as bad as Y/n had thought- at least as far as living conditions went. There didn't seem to be rats or bugs or leaking. He could get used to this.

The door opened. "Ah and how lucky for you to be awake just in time for lunch." It was an officer that Y/n didn't recognize. The man was much older and seemed to be annoyed even as he smiled. "You've been out for a whole day. Didn't think you were gonna make it." Y/n got the sense the guard was disappointed he had.

Standing silently, Y/n followed as the guard motioned him. He was unsure of how this place worked, so he moved tentatively. Calm but ready. Standing to his full height, eyes moving carefully as he stayed aware of his surroundings. His face was a sort of collected calm and he moved slowly at first, only speeding it up when the guard shoved something in his back. Probably a baton.

The two men ended up in a large room at the end of the hallway which was filled with tables that had benches attached to them. "This is the Big Room," the guard told Y/n lazily. "You eat here mostly, but you can go here for free time too, unless you want to stay in your cell." There was a door that lead into the Big Room. It opened loudly, causing every eye to be drawn to the two new people entering. "Good luck," the officer purred. "You seem like a calm one. They eat calm ones up in here." Then the officer stepped back and the door closed and Y/n was alone.

He looked around the room for an open seat, suddenly feeling like he was in high school again. He didn't have a clique. He didn't have somewhere to sit. He didn't know how this system of people worked. What if he sat with the wrong person and literally got murdered? Was there a chance the guards cared about the inmates enough to save their life? Y/n doubted it, if the guard from earlier was any indication.

Thoughts were cut off as an excited, "Y/N!" sounded. The called boy looked over to see red hair and a ginormous grin. Instantly Y/n switched gears, a smile of his own rising to his face. Jerome threw his arm over Y/n's shoulders. The Wayne boy tried not to get too giddy about the gesture as the redhead moved back to the table he must have been sitting at before Y/n came in. "You know I didn't think you'd end up in here too. Does that make you crazy after all?" He snorted, obviously amused by the idea of either of them being unsound of mind. Or maybe that was just another Jerome thing. Perhaps he just found insanity and instability funny.

"In the eyes of the people," Y/n answered.

Jerome tittered excitedly. "We're gonna have so much fun! They're so quiet and dull, I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come."

"You're a clever man, J." Y/n's voice was solid, even as his eyes were trained to Jerome and his smile was so wide it already hurt. "I'm sure you would have thought of something."

Someone scoffed. "Are you flirting with him?"

The man was big- both wide and tall- and bald. He looked scary, and also like an idiot. He had that simple minded vibe. Like he could hit, and that's all he could do. Not that it invalidated just how good he could hit though...

"What if I am?" Y/n met the man's eyes directly. He felt a surge of confidence with Jerome next to him.

Jerome hooked Y/n's chin as the men stared each other down. "Eyes on me now, doll." He winked and Y/n relaxed, smiling. "What are we gonna do first?"

Y/n rose an eyebrow, smirking in amusement. "What is there to do in a prison for the criminally insane?"

Jerome laughed. It suddenly cut off and the redhead was invading Y/n's space significantly. "Your imagination is the limit, really."

Y/n suddenly had a very active imagination. He cleared his throat but didn't move his gaze from Jerome, even though he wanted to. He could feel his face on fire and he wanted to shift away. Give himself space to breathe. It was very hot and it was becoming burdensome and annoying. Y/n had never once been this attracted to a single person. He'd had crushes- which is how he knew he was gay- but nothing serious. Nothing commanding and controlling. Why now, when he was most sure he never wanted to feel this way? Why here, when he was locked up and his best friend was missing after being betrayed by his love? Why now when Y/n should have been most against romance and most focused on finding Oswald and making sure his friend was okay, was he so smitten by this psychotic redhead?

Fuck it. Y/n wasn't getting out anytime soon- what was even the point of anything other than just giving in?

"I could think of a few things." Someone groaned, but Jerome's grin was enough to chase Y/n's shame away completely.

"Maybe I could pull off something special for you," Jerome mused. "Just once."

Looking away finally, Y/n sat down. "I heard it was lunchtime. Maybe we could start there." Jerome plopped down, eagerness unperturbed. If Y/n was being honest, his own enthusiasm was also unfazed. He didn't know what Jerome was thinking, but he was down for whatever. As long as it involved any single one of the things he was currently thinking about.

Y/n didn't expect Jerome to get it planned and done so soon.

It was dark and Y/n lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling. The guard had told him he'd be getting a roommate eventually when they were sure of how stable he was and how capable he would be and with who and blah blah blah blah blah-

For all their talk about safety, Y/n was only minority surprised to see the door open only to reveal Jerome Valeska strolling inside, the door closing behind him. "Miss me?"

Y/n grinned, chuckling softly as he rolled his eyes. "You're my cellmate?"

"The one and only." Jerome moved closer then seemed to hesitate and moved away instead. He went to the other bed, plopping down and crossing his legs before laying back, his hands behind his head and his smirk wide and charming. "You're quite interesting, Y/n. Are you aware?"

Y/n shrugged. "Not really."

Jerome narrowed his eyes, not smirking anymore. He obviously didn't like to be contradicted. "Why not?"

"People usually prefer my brother," Y/n explained casually, settling back down in his bed as Jerome had. When Jerome didn't speak up again, Y/n continued. "I guess he's more responsible and put together. He's gonna make it in the world, and it's nice to see such motivation in such a young lad." The last sentence he said each word with dripping sarcasm. "He's a genius and he's driven and I'm... Y/n Wayne. My parents were cool, don't get me wrong, but everyone's made it perfectly clear that Bruce has always been and always will be the preferred brother." Y/n looked over to Jerome smiling, only for it to drop upon seeing Jerome's expression. "What?"

Jerome stood. He moved with that same fluidity, except now it was very intimidating. Less like a showman and more like a predator stalking its prey, getting far too close for comfort. "I know what you mean. Younger brothers are the worst." His tone was dark now, and low. He lips turned up but it seemed in a sneer rather than enjoyment.

"You have a younger brother?" Y/n asked, sitting up in surprise.

Jerome's jaw worked. He looked at Y/n, moving close as he usually did. Invading Y/n's space as always. "Are you and Bruce twins?"

"I'm two years older," Y/n answered immediately. "Why?"

"Jeremiah and I are twins." He shook his head. "Now I'm bored. Entertain me, Y/n."

Y/n was suddenly breathless as Jerome lay down, spread out on Y/n's bed. Y/n swallowed, moving to hover over him. He usually topped, but this was Jerome Valeska. Y/n had thought... this would have gone differently, at least. "Undo the jumper," Jerome commanded evenly. Y/n obeyed, dragging the zipper down. Jerome kicked off the cheap shoes he was wearing as Y/n tugged the jumper down. Jerome lay in a muscle shirt and boxers. "Have you ever pleased someone else before?" Y/n nodded. "Men?" Y/n nodded again. While with Penguin, Y/n had had the pick of the litter. Anyone he wanted. He'd had a few, though they still didn't measure up to Jerome. "Consensual?"

Y/n swallowed. "I've had consensual sex with men before, yes."

Jerome rose an eyebrow, obviously sensing the bit of information Y/n was holding back. Thankfully he didn't push. Probably because he didn't want to damper the mood again. "Show me what you know, Sweetheart." So Y/n did.

Throughout the whole ordeal, every time Y/n did something Jerome didn't like, the older boy immediately corrected him. Y/n knew that what he was doing was good enough - he'd gotten people off plenty of times before - but Jerome seemed to be pushing Y/n's buttons. Being specific and picky and demanding. Seeing where Y/n's line was. How obedient he could be. There wasn't anything Y/n had refused to do thus far. Finally Jerome pressed his head back into the bed, his eyes closed and his lips parted. His fingers curled into Y/n's short hair and he spoke quietly, trying to not alert anyone outside who would stop them while trying to keep Y/n under control and finish at the same time.

Men were much easier than woman. It didn't take much to finish Jerome once he was there. He groaned very quietly, his breath hitching and his lower body pressing into Y/n's mouth more, where it had ended up. Y/n let him ride it out then swallowed, leaning back with a grin on his face.

"How was that?"

Jerome sat up, wiping something off the corner of Y/n's lip. He pressed his finger into Y/n's mouth, his smile widening when Y/n sucked it clean. "You're good. I expected you to be less experienced."

"I doubt I'm experienced as much as I'm a fast learner and really good at following directions." Jerome hummed before stretching then moving to redress. Y/n deflated. Jerome giggled when he saw Y/n's shoulder sag. "You want something too, hm?" Y/n swallowed, nodding. "Well, since you were a good boy..." Jerome motioned Y/n closer and the younger boy immediately stood. Y/n went to kiss him but Jerome jerked away. "None of that." His fingers found purchase resting around Y/n's throat. Not squeezing, but playing at the idea. "No distractions. I have to focus." He winked and forced Y/n to turn around, knocking the breath out of the dark haired boy's lungs.

Y/n had always known there was something almost intoxicating about Jerome. Addicting. His smile. The look he got in his eye- especially when he was horny, or when he was really into a joke. The way Jerome held Y/n or pushed or pulled him around. The raw charisma he had, that allowed him to grab a room and keep it completely under control. His easy attitude. His arms and hands and hair and lips. The way Jerome had demanded and kept Y/n's attention even when the boy was repressed due to trauma. Jerome was magic. He could do anything. He was good at everything. He was great at a few things too. Murder. Acting. Being true to himself. Carry out promises.

Fucking. Jerome was really good at that, too.

The boy was setting something off in Y/n and it seemed the more time passed, the less capable Y/n was of going back to the life he had, even just with Oswald. Everyone seemed so impossibly far, but suddenly Jerome was the only person that mattered. Y/n was falling and honestly, he didn't even care.

[justcallmemav]

7/20/18

--------------------------

Pt.20

--------------------------

“You didn't get along with her, so this shouldn't be affecting you this bad.”

(She saw how you treated me and wanted to adopt me.)

“You trust people too easy, girl.”

( I had known him for 13 years. I built that trust. )

“You put yourself in this situation.”

( I didn't ask for it.)

“I never liked him anyways, trash grew legs and took itself out.”

(I loved him for five years.)

▪▪   ·I love you, mom. I'm sorry I couldn't be what you wanted me to be.

---

▪▪   ·I'm at work I'll message you when I'm off. Ly2.

---

▪▪   ·I could use a call right now.

---

▪▪  ·Can't talk right now, will call tomorrow. You'll be fine for a day.

--------------------------------------------------

▪  You're my best friend. I love you. I can't take it anymore.

---------

▪   I think this is it.

--------------------------------------------------

▪▪▪  Thank you for always loving me unconditionally. You're the greatest sister anyone could ask for. I love you. You're better off without me.

--------------------------------------------------

      You came to visit me two days after i was taken into the hospital on july 20th at 9 o'clock at night.

      I was drinking an excessive amount within the matter of two hours.

     Within the last few minutes of the second hour, I saw the walls of the world around me collapsing.

This is it.

I have nothing left.

     My mind wouldn't rest. I took a xanax but it didn't help ease my mind.

     It sure couldn't mend my broken heart.

                  This was the last time.

It didn't work before.

           It has to work now.

                          So I begged, and I cried.

I prayed to a God I wasn't even sure existed.

Please take me now.

        I want to come home.

                      I think I'm ready now.

JUST TAKE ME NOW. I AM READY. PLEASE FUCKING TAKE ME. I'M READY.

      I decided I couldn't take it anymore. I made the choice to give into my thoughts and my depression. I made the choice to finalize this shit I consider living. This existence. This truly was it. This is the end.

      I let my hands trace their way to my fate. To my drawer. Opening the pill bottle. Where the palm of my hand met my lips to fill my mouth with what I knew would make everything better soon. Next thing I know, my body was lured to the bottle of vodka as it stands at the end of the bed. I wrap my fingers tight around the neck of the bottle, lips to the glass. Down the hatch and into the rabbit hole I go. I feel my body spiral. Down...down...down...down…

                      Boom

                         So bitter.

                        Yet so good.

Was this the only way i could be happy again?

I will reach the numbness I yearn to undergo.

I've heard the rumors.

Does it seem as free as they say?

            Then along came the thump.

                       ALAS~

Nothingness.

Darkness. No voices, no pain, no criticism. Just the echoes of my heart beat.

Thump.. Thump….. Thump….

After what felt like days… the darkness fades steadily. The numbness dissolves like ice through my fingertips.

               Off in the distance I hear something. A cry? A car? A siren? A siren.

I struggle to come to consciousness.

                 I find it nearly impossible.

Then out of the blue, I hear a voice.

                A voice so faint and familiar.

After some time, I can open my eyes half way as I slip back into consciousness.

My vision is hazy. I managed to come to when I hear her voice.

“Cayley, there's some people here who need you to get up and come outside. They need to check on you.”

I see the pigments from the lights spinning on their vehicles, bouncing off of the brick walls on the outside of my home, but it's all blurry.

       I struggled to stand as I stepped through my threshold to go outside.

Who needs to talk to me? About what? Why?

I look up and see two policemen and a paramedic. I begin to hyperventilate.

“Is my dad okay?”

Ma'am, we received a call stating that you may be a harm to yourself, so I ask that you don't resist help. Are you able to follow us to the back of the ambulance, ma'am?

·I haven't done anything and I'm not a harm to myself.

·For your own safety we need to make sure that's true. We can't take risks, miss.

·I'm sorry, please ma'am let go of my arm, I don't need help. GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME I AM FINE.

I hear my father talking to the police officer but couldn't make out what they were saying over dad's coworker crying and all of the sounds around me. I panicked. I heard my dad speaking once more, only this time it was directed at me.

He asked me three things.

“CAYLEY BABY WHAT’D YOU DO?”

“WHAT DID YOU TAKE?”

My hearing began to fade slowly, as I focused on the ringing gradually developing in my head. I could ever so slightly hear the walkie talkies and daddys office keys jingling in his pocket. I heard Sues charm bracelet that she loves so much.

I felt my heartbeat through my chest, as if it was trying to escape. I feel my heart rate descend,  I look up to see what was around me. Everyone was there.

I saw my father crying and shaking.

 I saw his girlfriend crying.

    I saw my father's coworker crying.

          I was embarrassed.

Yet, too weak to care.

I muttered to the medic under my breath;

“I'm ready to go. Ma'am please take me.”

I collapse, but the woman was quick to catch me. She definitely had motherly instincts. Not even 2 seconds after i collapsed, I lose consciousness.

          I woke up in the back of an ambulance. I'm being hovered by two men with papers on clipboards and the medic who stopped me from busting my ass on concrete. They're bombarding me with questions and demands.

“Your oxygen levels are low, ma'am. I need you to inhale and exhale on ten. The oxygen being distributed through the tubes in your nostrils is a bit cold. Just a fair warning. Are you physically capable of removing your tunnels, lip piercing, your engagement ring, and whatever else pierced or on your person that could be a threat to yourself of me?”

“Do I have to take off my ring?”

“Yes ma'am, unfortunately it's code. We'll put it in this bag. It will stay unbothered. Please remove your piercings.”

Shortly after I began hyperventilating because I couldn't stop crying, and boom.

All consciousness was lost.

How could I harm anyone with a ring?

She should have been patient, anyways.

~Don't rush me.~

       You asked me why I did it. It took you two days, it took my father less than 60 seconds to get to me when he saw the ambulance at the door.

       You took 48 hours to muster the pride to visit me, and when you did, you showed no emotion at all. You hugged me that day and I felt no love.

        I was barely aware of what was going on, yet I somehow sensed tension coming from your end. As if you were forcing yourself to care when deep down you knew you didn't.

I felt like I was being smothered by a well maintained, ‘JLo Glo’ scented greeting mat.

          Even when I was much younger and you would stay in and drink, you'd hug me and I felt this giant strange force field of motherly love surrounding me, if that makes any sense. There was a step by step process of your home drunk persona and it went the same way every time.. but I'll get to that in a moment.

    Anyways, I'm still thankful you showed. Even two days late. You had me slightly convinced that you actually cared.

ALMOST. I was informed of the insensitive remarks you made to my father about me.  You really had the audacity to turn around and say I was wanting everyone to be worried about CAYLEY because ‘everything has to be about CAYLEY and CAYLEY was just looking for attention'.

         Like I didn't come home from school and take two steps through the threshold only to see you crying because you got dumped. You threatened to end your life. (Because you loved this man so much. The man you are with now. 9 years later. The man you use for money. Whom you cheat on)  Me and your biological daughter took you and admitted you.

         I felt like i betrayed you, but i needed you to be alive. For...whatever reason. I guess cos y'know.. a 12 year old needs a parent. You came home and the meds they gave you calmed you down, but you liked that too much. You quickly became dependent, actually you still are. You contradict yourself too often.

         Don't you remember what I have been put through..? By you, mostly. You were and still are so hypocritical that it makes me chuckle. Sigh- anyways, I couldn't fully comprehend anything you said during our visit. I couldn't gather the energy to move nor look at you, let alone reply to your bullshit motherhood quotes.

        You left when the time was up, two weeks go by in a blur still ever so slowly, and they transfer me. People were able to reach out to me. A handful of people I love and cherish which includes my sister, my father, his girlfriend... the woman who has been more of a mother to me than you ever were.

       It didn't take much time after me being in that God forsaken inpatient facility for me to be pulled aside by a nurse in a confidential manner. My brain threw around every possible reason as to why she was doing this.

--------------------------------------------------

Am I going home?

Are they moving me again?

What did I do wrong?

--------------------------------------------------

  ~ Nothing, stop with the assumptions~

    She informed me that I had received multiple calls from a woman saying she is my mother but she couldn't pass it through because another woman, who ALSO claimed to be my parent/caregiver, had requested that this number (she was giving me )go on a restricted no contact list. She handed me a sheet of paper with with a number on it. Buttttt, it wasn't yours. So I had no idea what was going on. Who's my caregiver? Did my sister put you on the no call list? Nope. It wasn't your number and you never do wrong, so you denied having anything to do with that whole thing. I decided to call the number while the addiction groups were in the other room. I had no reason to be there so I had time to meditate, draw, socialize, or find out who was on the other end of that phone line.

It's obvious what I chose.

It took a few tries until someone finally answered. When they did I felt like an idiot. How could I not know.

You hated her because of how hard she tried to see me and my siblings. You had so many hateful things to say about her, yet no validation. It made you angrier when you told us about her then made her out to be a bad guy and we still got in touch with her. You hated that, didn't you. You hated it because the truth was going to come out if we found her.

Lady, I met my real mother when i was 11 years old. That was the day my father bought my favorite hat… a black fedora with a blue stripe inside of a purple stripe in the middle (which I still own). I was wearing this black shirt with a red graphic design on the front and back that was WAY too baggy on me and a pair of cuffed blue jeans, I do believe. It's been eight years, I have great memory but I'm not special like that.

If it weren't for daddy, my sister, and my brother... I would've never known who she was. Well, when I finally got ahold of my biological mother on the phone the day after I received the number by the nurse… she was genuinely upset. She said one thing that will stick to my brain for the rest of my life.

“I lost you once I can't lose you again”

You won't have to.

[tearinmyheartforjosh]

Hey! Can I request a Josh imagine? I just learned that his younger sister Abigail is the same age as me (she's 20, born in 1996). Can you do something like the reader is friends with Abigail and she invites the reader to her house for some sort of family get together, and Josh ends up smitten with the reader (I've realized that an 8 year age gap isn't that much once you enter your 20s). Thanks!

I hope this is good! I had a lot of fun writing it! Thank you for the request :)

“Abby, I’m not so sure this is the best idea,” You say nervously as you pull up next to the Dun residence. She had invited you over the thanksgiving since most of your family lived away, and you didn’t have any plans to visit over the holiday. But you weren’t very close with any of Abby’s family, and the idea of spending a whole weekend made you a bit uneasy.

“Don’t sweat it, Y/N,” She reassures you. “I’ve already talked to my parents and they feel the same way I do; you’re not spending thanksgiving weekend alone. They have the guest bed made up and everything.” She offers you a sweet smile. It eases the anxiety in your stomach a little bit, but not all the way. But who are you to argue. So you reach to the back of your car and grab your weekend bag and give Abby a smile signalling you’re ready to start the weekend.

Abby Dun’s house looks exactly how you thought it would; homely and clean. The Dun’s always seemed like that perfect American family to you and it made you a little nervous. You didn’t want to be a stain in their life.

“Y/N,” Mrs. Dun greets you with open arms as you enter into the kitchen after Abigail. You oblige, awkwardly patting her back. “I’m so glad you could join us this weekend. It’ll be so nice to have you.”

“Thank you for taking in a stray,” you half joke, offering your warmest smile. “I’m glad I don’t have to spend the holidays alone.”

“You’re always welcome here, dear,” She replies. “Now why don’t you show her to your room and introduce her to your sister and brothers. They’re all in the family room,” She suggest to Abby, who nods.

You follow Abby through the maze of their new house, dropping your things off in the guest bedroom before you follow her down to the basement, or as her mom called it, the family room. It was fairly big, with spacious couches and chairs all lined up around the large flat screen TV they had. Her sister and two brothers took up most of the main couch in front of the TV, so you stood awkwardly as Abby called attention to them.

“Hey guys, this is Y/N,” she gestures back to you. Ashley looks up and gives you a warm smile while the two brothers flash quick smiles, their attention mostly on the video game in front of them. “Y/N,” Abby continues. “This is Jordan, Josh and Ashley.”

“It’s really nice to meet you guys,” You say quietly, feeling awkward standing in the middle of the room. Abby sits down beside Jordan and you pick a chair that’s not as close to the TV.

“It’s good to have you here,” Ashley smiles. Then the awkward silence begins. Well it’s not really that awkward because everyone is fairly welcoming and all wants to get to know you, it just feels awkward because you’re not quite sure what to say. You felt like there was an elephant in the room, and it was Josh Dun. It wasn’t a secret who Josh was or what he did for a living. And you were partially hoping that he wouldn’t be home. But of course he’d want to be with family during the holidays. You were star struck to be sitting so close to him. You had so many questions and really really wanted to ask him for a picture. But you didn’t want to be that friend, so you just sat awkwardly, watching the family interact with each other and answering questions when they asked.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Josh and Jordan put down the console controllers and high fived, congratulating each other on a good game. Then Josh looks over at you. “Sorry, I didn’t really get a chance to catch your name,” he tells you, standing up to shake your hand.

You feel like a flustered mess as you quickly stand up and reach for his hand. “Y/N,” you tell him as he has a firm grip on his hand, trying to avoid eye contact. You had a terrible habit of going bright red when you looked at someone you thought was attractive. And Josh was, well, Josh. Probably the most attractive man you had come across.

“Cool,” he smiles at you, gaze lingering a little bit longer than you were expecting. “Sorry about earlier,” he gives a quick look back at the TV and then down at his brother who’s still sitting on the couch. “We’ve been trying to beat that level forever,” He chuckles and his famous squinty eyed grin makes an appearance. You can feel your face starting to get hot and you desperately hope that it’s not noticeable.

“So how did you and Abby meet?” He asks, throwing a look over at his little sister, waiting for an answer from one of us.

“At work,” Abby answers before you do. “Y/N is the only one that I actually like there,” she laughs softly and you can help but to laugh either. You and Abby had bonded over your strong dislike for everyone else that you worked with.

“Oh, that’s really cool,” Josh replies, copying your smile. “Well it’s really cools that you’re here, Y/N. Abby should have brought you around sooner,” he sends a wink in Abby’s direction before mentioning something about food and leaving the two of you alone. If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely were now.

You’re not sure if Abby noticed or not, but if she does - she doesn’t say anything. And you’re extremely thankful for that. But you spend all of Friday and most of Saturday following her around like a puppy, scared to be left alone for too long. She doesn’t seem to mind, and you’re actually having a better time than you thought with her. You find out you both have more in common with her than just disliking people at work.

Josh also hangs around a lot more than you thought he would, and you’re slowly feeling more comfortable talking with him. He is slowly becoming Josh Dun, Abby’s brother more than he is Josh Dun, drummer of Twenty One Pilots.

By Sunday morning you’re feeling right at home, so it doesn’t surprise you when you get up and find the house empty. There’s a note in the kitchen addressed to you from Abby letting you know that the family had gone to church and were doing some errands after and would be back in the afternoon. You stand in the kitchen for a moment not sure what to do in an unfamiliar house. That’s when Josh enters through the sliding back door, no shirt on, ear buds in and chest glistening with sweat in the early morning sun. He smiles once he sees you, taking his ear buds out as he crosses the kitchen to the fridge.

“Hey Y/N,” he greets you as he pulls out a water bottle and begins chugging it. But you’re stunned, almost too stunned to talk as you process what’s happening. You’re in Josh Dun’s house by yourself and now he’s shirtless in front of you.

“Have a good sleep?” He asks after a brief moment of silence.

You quickly shake your head and answer him. “Y-yeah. It was really good. The bed in the guest room is really comfy.”

“Yeah I know, I usually crash on it when I come to visit,” he gives you a sheepish smile, before lifting the bottle to his mouth again.

“I would offer to trade you, but it’s like, really comfy,” you almost giggle. Josh had slept in the bed you were sleeping in. It couldn’t get anymore surreal. “Did you have a good run?” You ask, wanting to change the topic from you. You hated being in the spotlight. You were perfectly happy being a background character.

“Yeah, it was really good. Helps with anxiety, you know?” He replies. “Gets me out of my head.”

“Yeah, I understand that. That’s how I feel about writing,” You tell him. “Helps me really be able to sort through my emotions when I can see them all out on paper.”

“You write?” He asks with a smile. You nod, face getting slightly hot as he keeps up the eye contact. But you can’t help but look at them, they were your favourite thing about him. Seeing them so much in pictures, but they couldn’t hold up to the real thing.

“Anything that you’d let me read?” He presses, an almost smug look on his face. You think about it for a moment, almost saying no right away. But this was Josh Dun you were taking too. He and Tyler bare their souls in every song they put out. The least you could do was let Josh read one of your mediocre poems.

“Well, nothing really finished,” You say as you pull out your phone and open up your notes. “I kind of just get ideas in my head through out the day and I try and jot them down when they’re fresh and then sometimes, they turn into poems.” You step forward and pass your phone to Josh. He smiles at you before looking down at the words you have typed out. His expression is focused, carefully reading over each word, making sure to take his time and really absorb what you have written out.

“My plan is to publish a book of short stories one day,” You continue, as he swipes through the other blurbs you have. “I don’t think I have the attention span to finish a whole book with one story right now,” You admit with a chuckle. “I’m constantly getting new ideas.”

Josh looks up at you, expression intense. “These are amazing, Y/N,” he says, eyes locked with yours. “Like, really. The emotion and just the way you put the words together is just - ”. He’s almost at a loss for words as he tries to search for the right one, but coming up empty. So he just shakes his head and offers you a smile. “They’re just amazing. Thanks for sharing them with me.”

You shrug bashfully as you take your phone back and shoving it deep into your pocket. “Just helps with the anxiety, you know?”

He’s staring at you, but there’s something in his eyes. You try not to think about it too much. “Yeah, I completely get that.”

“Hey guys!” Josh’s mom greets both of you as she enters the kitchen with large grocery bags. Josh reaches out to grab them instinctively, earning a kiss on the cheek from his mom. “Hope you’re hungry,” she smiles at you. “Because we are making a feast!”

“I’m definitely ready to stuff my face,” you joke, quickly sending a look at Josh, who is still looking at you with the same look as before. It’s enough to send the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. But you don’t really want him to stop.

Josh leaves to shower and you and Abby help Mrs. Dun with dinner. You’re completely relaxed now, after showing Josh your poems. It was comforting almost, to know at least one of them understood the madness what went on in your head. And the rest of the evening you feel right at home. And you definitely notice how Josh hovers around you now, constantly asking you questions about your writing. You weren’t going to complain though.

“Thank you so much for having me over this weekend,” You thank Abby’s parents once dinner and over and done with and you helped Abby and her siblings clean up. “It was really nice, and Mrs. Dun - the food was incredible!”

She giggles at the compliment, cheeks turning slightly pink. “Please, call me Laura. And it was our pleasure, feel free to come back any time!”

“Thanks thanks Abby, for thinking to invite me,” You turn to your friend and give her a quick hug before fishing your car keys out of your purse and picking up your weekend bag.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Josh offers as he opens the door and gestures for you to go first. You wave and say goodbye to the family once more before ducking out the front door.

“I had a really good time getting to know you this weekend, Y/N,” Josh tells you once it’s just you and him. Both of you walking stupidly slow, trying to drag out the alone time you guys had.

“Yeah, I did too,” You reply bashfully, biting your lip and trying to ignore how red your face probably was.

“I, um, would really like to go out, with you, sometime,” He offers, now it was his turn to go red. And your heart was probably going to explode. “Do you want to get dinner sometime?”

You can’t even contain your grin, your eyes looking up to meet his. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

Josh breaks out a huge smile and lets out a small breath of relief. “Awesome. That’s really cool. I, uh, put my number in your phone when you let me look at your poems,” He admits sheepishly. “I hope that’s okay, but you should call me when you get home and we can set something up?”

Your cheeks were hurting but you really couldn’t stop smiling so big. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Cool. Well drive safe, and have a good night Y/N.” he’s starting to back up towards his front door.

“You too, Josh.” Once you’re in your car he disappears back into his house and you take a moment to yourself. You speed the whole way home, wanting to set up that date as soon as possible.