Josh Dun Imagines And Preferences ✅

"My love for you is a LOT stronger than he is." (Jyler)

Tyler's point of view

I sign as I scrunch up yet another piece of paper; why can't I get this song right?
"Because Jenna knows you're a failure. She doesn't truly love you, Tyler. You've got to stop kidding yourself," I hear Blurry say in my head. Oh no, here we go again.
"Well," I answer back in my head, "she does love me, otherwise she wouldn't have married me!"
"Ha, oh please! She only married you because you've got money!" Blurry taunts me. I frown; could he be right? Is that the only reason why Jenna married me? No, it isn't; if she only married me for money, she would've divorced me a long time ago, right?
"Wrong. You're wrong, Tyler. You look wrong, you sound wrong, you play the piano wrong! You're not an artist, and you never will be. Who would want to hear songs about depression and anxiety on the radio? Oh, that's right; NO ONE! Just give up!" Blurry snarls inside of me. I groan in frustration, putting my head on the table.
"Just leave me alone," I mumble, suddenly hearing footsteps echo across the wooden floor of the kitchen.
"Ty, you alright?" I hear Jenna say. She shakes me slightly, and I look up at her.
"I'm fine, Jenna, just fine." She takes in all the scrunched up pieces of paper scattering the table and floor.
"Is something bothering you?"
"A-am I an a-artist?" I stutter quietly, not looking at her. She grabs a chair, and sits down at the table. She takes my hand in hers, and gives it a reassuring squeeze, although I'm certain she's putting on some sort of act.
"Yes, Tyler, you ARE an artist; you're an amazing songwriter, and I'm proud to call you my husband. You're an incredible guy, and you and Josh have worked so hard to come this far! You deserve all the success that you gain. You know me, Josh, your family and the Clique will be there to pick you up if you fall, just like you pick us up when we fall, whether that's literally or metaphorically." She smiles at me as she wipes a tear away from her eye. I hug her tightly, sniffing slightly into her shoulder.
"Thanks so much, Jenna. You're the best wife ever, and you took the words right out of my mouth." I laugh slightly, but then frown.
"What's wrong?"
"I-it's Blurry. He's, um, he's getting to me a-again."
"Oh, Ty, why didn't you say?"
"H-he told me you only married me for m-money, and that I-I wasn't an artist because who would want to hear songs on the r-radio about mental illness?" I sob. She rubs my back as I just cry and cry, then she holds me by my shoulders.
"Tyler," she says sternly, "don't listen to Blurryface, as what he's saying isn't the truth; it's his opinion. He's just trying to make it sound like it's the truth. Trust me, it's most definitely not the truth. Who cares about what's played on the radio? The music you create is listened to by so many people - and has probably inspired so many to save their own lives, and to figure themselves out. You're cared about, and I never married you for money; I married you for love. And my love for you is a LOT stronger than he is." I smile at her.
"How did I end up so lucky? Thank you, my dime-pice wife, for being my love," I say, shaking my head before kissing her on the lips.
"The pleasure is all mine, Mr Joseph."