hey, could write something based on the idea of the reader being chubby and she is slowly starving herself without josh knowing, then one day when josh gets in the shower with her he notices that she feels thinner, then you can carry it on from there, maybe she has a breakdown idk
JOSH DUN IMAGINE
The end of the world starts when you get on the scale for the first time in six months. Sure your jeans felt a little snug lately, and your shirts clung to you a bit more than normal. But when you see that you’d gained twelve pounds, you immediately feel like throwing up.
You stare at the scale, swallowing heavily. Because it can’t happen. Not to you.
People already comment on your curves. And above all, you’ve seen how many people on twitter think you’re fat.
So adding those twelve pounds to the equation doesn’t help your situation. Not at all.
Your head feels fuzzy as you make your way downstairs, where Josh is conveniently washing the dishes from breakfast.
He turns around once he hears your footsteps on the hardwood floor and smiles brightly.
“I made bacon and toast,” he declares proudly.
You turn and look at the bacon sizzling on a pan on top of the stove with a neat stack of buttered toast beside it. You clutch your stomach and shake your head.
“I’m not feeling so great,” you lie.
“Oh no,” Josh says as he dries the pan in his hand, “think you’re coming down with something?”
You shrug, “Maybe,” you mutter before almost dashing out the door for work. You ignore the puzzled look on his face, anything to avoid him right now.
The things was, you’d never been the thinnest girl on the block. You were a chubby baby, a pudgy five-year-old, a thicker seven-year-old.
So you start because you want to. You’ll just loose a few pounds. Who knows? Maybe Josh would be a little more attracted to you. Maybe you’d start to feel like you actually deserved him.
You start to wake up before Josh, so that you can claim you’ve eaten cereal or toast, when really you just nibble on a couple of orange slices or skip breakfast entirely. And you almost always toss out the lunch that you pack in front of him. Dinner is a little trickier, but you get away with only taking a few bites by talking a lot, and just cutting your food into small pieces, and then swirling it around your plate.
You also start spending a lot of time standing in front of the mirror, looking at yourself. You want— need to just fix it. You need to be perfect, so you start telling yourself bad things.
God, Y/N. How can you stomach looking at yourself like this? You’ve got fat pooling over your waistband. That is revolting, you look… you look disgusting, people aren’t supposed to grow out like this. Why don’t you just stop? Stop cramming your face for ten minutes. Obviously it does bad things to you. Just stop. This is disgusting; you are disgusting. Do you not see it? How do you not see it?! How have you let this go for so long? How could you do this to yourself?
You grip the edge of the sink, looking at your every curve and finding a fault because shit, you’re not just curvy. You’re fat. You are so fat. It really is gross, and it’s everywhere. You’re drowning in it.
Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, this is so bad for you, stop eating stop eating stop eating, stop eating, stop eating. You’ll never look right if you don’t stop eating. You’ll stay like this if you don’t stop eating. Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating.
Stop eating, stop eating, stop eating, stop eating. You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve it.
After a month, it’s become really easy to ignore the ache. It’s even easier to ignore the buzz and blur in your head, the stress and pain in your muscles. You still spend a lot of time of standing in front of the mirror, pulling and stretching and pinching your body and contorting it into the shape you desire. You mold your thighs like clay, presses your ankles together and locks your knees to examine the space between your legs. You frown.
Really, you know it’s stupid, and it’s not healthy, but you can’t help that you feel better when you’re in control. And it’s not like it’s out of hand. Because you can eat when you absolutely need to, and you recognize when you do need to.
It’s just that…well the truth of it is, it’s just that you can’t escape the thoughts. And it’s just that you can’t stop obsessively scrolling through every inch of twitter, focusing on the tweets about how you’ve really let yourself go, and Josh deserves better. Those ones hurt. Mostly, because you agree.
The scale says you’ve lost nineteen pounds. What you’d gained and then some.
Just a little bit more, you tell yourself. Then you can be lovable again.
Your relationship with Josh had been strained.
You felt so uncomfortable when he touched your body lately, terrified that he’d feel your rolls or how soft you were. You’d always pull away when he tried anything more than a kiss, and when he pinched your sides the other day, you thought you might explode right on the spot.
You noticed how defeated and distant he’d become. And you really did feel awful. You wanted to tell him, wait just a little bit longer. Then you’d be skinny and beautiful and the it’ll all have been worth it.
You realize that might not be realistic one morning when he finally explodes on you. You were stirring your coffee in the kitchen when he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder. It was a sweet gesture, but all you could focus on was his palm pressed into the thick of your tummy. You instinctually rolled your shoulder back, shrugging him off and turning so your back was to the counter instead.
“God, Y/N! Just tell me what I did wrong!” He says, frustrated.
You cradle your coffee and act dumb. “What are you talking about?”
He shakes his head, “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been so distant lately. God- you don’t even let me touch you anymore!”
You bite your lip and stare down at the floor, trying to think of an excuse on the spot that will explain your behavior to him. Cause I’m fucking insane, you think.
But it’s too late. Josh shakes his head and scoffs.
“Forget it,” he mutters before turning and walking away.
You don’t dare to stop staring at the floor until you hear the front door slam shut behind him.
You immediately felt the influx of tears as they pricked your eyes and you knew that you’d have to suck it up and be intimate with Josh, you didn’t want to lose him.
You were twenty five pounds down. Maybe that was enough. At least for now. At least for Josh not to be repulsed by you.
You found him sitting on the couch later that night, still sweaty from the run he’d taken. He was cooling off and watching a program on TV.
You took a deep breath and wrapped your arms around yourself before sitting beside him. At first he said nothing. He just stared straight ahead like you weren’t even there. When you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, he finally turned his attention to you. You thought you’d be met with anger. Instead, his eyes were soft and… almost sad. It made your chest ache.
“You’re right,” you said, staring down at your hands held together, “I’ve been distant and awful and I’m sorry.”
A few moments passed before he responded, “You don’t have to be sorry. I wish you’d talk to me.”
“I just haven’t been myself lately,” you whispered. “Stress at work- I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
When you look up and finally meet his gaze, you can tell he doesn’t fully believe you. But before he can protest, you lean forward and gently press your lips to his. You stay there for a while, just kissing on the couch like teenagers. Josh brings his hand to your cheek and cups it lightly, before deepening the kiss. His hands travel down to your side, and your heart starts to race as his fingers ghost over your side. You pull back, breathless.
“Let’s hop in the shower,” you suggest.
Josh traces his finger along your jaw, his lips pressed together. You place your hand over his and he nods, letting you lead him up the stairs and into the bathroom.
You were lost in your own thoughts once you entered the bathroom, terrified to undress in front of Josh for the first time in so long. You wondered if he’d notice that you were skinnier. You wondered if he’d be okay with your body now. What if he was still disgusted? What if he didn’t even want to touch you?
Thoughts and scenarios race through your mind as you slowly start to strip in the corner of the bathroom. You pull off your oversized sweater, then your tank top, then your sweatpants… Your arms felt flabby against your sides, your thighs still touched…
Only when you hear a sudden clatter do you jolt out of your mind and look up. Josh had knocked your hairbrush on the ground. But when your eyes travel up to his, you see them staring wide back.
You immediately feel self conscious and try to cover up, you fold your arms across yourself and cross your legs.
Suddenly everything made sense to Josh. The last few months flashed before his eyes. How you always skipped breakfast and never finished dinner.
He lets out a gasp and you feel like you’re on fire. Josh starts walking towards you. This only caused you to walk backwards until you hit the wall behind you.
“Baby…” He started but was interrupted by you.
“Don’t say anything Josh, I know.”
“What do you mean?” Josh asked.
“I know that I’m fat. You don’t have to tell me.”
“What?” he said in disbelief. Like it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.
“I-I’m s-sor-ry.” You sobbed as you finally collapsed into Josh’s awaiting arms. He carefully slid the both of you down onto the cold tile and pulled you in closer; whispering soothing words as he rocked you back and forth.
“Why would you think that, baby?” He murmured after your sobs had settled into tiny, quiet sniffles against Josh’s now-damp shirt. He let out a quiet sigh when you refused to answer and pulled you a little closer to him.
“Baby, you’re so small-” he chokes, “I didn’t notice cause of the clothes. Is this about stuff on twitter?” He takes your whimper as a yes before continuing. “People on twitter are animals, they’re so, so wrong.” He murmured, his fists clenching against your back as he thought about how much you were hurting.
“Y/N, talk to me, baby. Tell me what’s going on,“ he pleaded.
“I just-“ you tried to speak, but another sob came out instead.
“Shhh,” he cooed. He held your head firmly against his chest and stroked your hair.
“I just wanted to be enough,” you finally choked out. “I just wanted to be skinny so you would want me.” You whispered sadly against his chest blinking fresh tears from your eyes.
Josh grew stiff, and it took him a moment to respond. You hear him take a deep breath before speaking, “Why would you ever think I didn’t want you?” His voice is so serious and firm.
“Because of what people were saying- and I gained weight and I looked disgusting…”
Josh pulled back and held you weakly out in front of him, he shook your shoulders lightly and stared at you sternly, “Here’s what I’m saying. It kills me to see you like this, because you- you’re, like, the brightest star in the whole goddamned sky. And it’s not fair, but people will always try to find a way to make you feel dull and force you to think less of yourself just because they’re not as bright as you are. You are beautiful, Y/N and you’re healthy and strong and kind and I love you.” Josh takes an unsteady breath, trying to regain some type of composure before continuing. “I love you for everything that you are. And I will say this again and again until you believe me, but I’m not gonna leave you, love. I would be the stupidest guy on this planet if I ever did. Because I do love you, baby. Don’t ever forget that.“ He murmured.
You had to blink a few times to make the tears stop from blurring your vision.
”I love you too,” you whispered, and then there were a pair of warm lips against yours and arms wrapping around your body. It was a sweet and chaste kiss, just a simple pressing of lips.
“You gotta take care of yourself,” Josh says when he pulls away, his voice lighter than usual, as if he were on the verge of tears. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“I’m so sorry-“ you choke out again, feeling so guilty for making Josh this scared.
"It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Josh whispers in your ear, leading you gently to your feet.
“I’m just so tired.” You closed your eyes, letting the darkness envelope you. You need it to help you forget how disappointed you are in yourself. How scared you are that maybe Josh is too.
“Come on baby; let’s go to bed, yeah?” Josh presses a final kiss on your temple, then guides you back towards the bedroom. He breaks away to start organizing the sheets for you both to sleep on, even though they’re going to get wrinkles in two minutes.
Before you can manage to comprehend what’s going on, the world is upside down and you yelp out in surprise.
“Josh, no, put me down!” you scream, trying to pretend it doesn’t make your mood immediately lighten up a bit. “Put me down!”
Josh’s laugh is echoing in your ear, and he starts walking towards the bed with you on his shoulder. "I don’t think I will.”
Suddenly you’re being tossed on your bed, Josh crawling right after you, kissing you on the mouth, nose, then sliding to kiss your belly, your thighs.
“Don’t you dare to say my girlfriend is fat.” Josh says huskily while kissing you next to your belly bottom, causing you to blush and squirm in delight. “I love every inch of you.”
Josh comes back up, wrapping you in a tight grip, his body covering all of you, and you can’t feel those extra pounds, can’t feel any of your weight right now, like this.
And if after a few months you started accepting your body, it’s only because Josh can’t stop manhandling you all over your apartment, or kissing you every chance he got, or telling you how much he loved you.