Thank you if you submitted a oneshot! I really appreciate it and had a lot of fun reading different interpretations.

Since I did only get four entries, I'm including all of them here. There's no particular order for winners or anything because I enjoyed different parts from each one (:

There is also a reading list with all these on my account!

Without further ado, the submissions!

1. by neonpython

67 bodies.

That's how many it took for them to catch up with him. 67 murders all around the state of New York over the span of three years, and nobody even bothered looking for answers until someone important went missing.

Tyler didn't want to kill at first, but he was so psychologically damaged that no amount of therapy and hypnosis could help. Even though he always knew deep down he'd never be the same, he tried to move on from the betrayal and the trauma of his time in Missouri. He took medication, talked to a therapist, even tried to get closure before Josh was killed, but the closure backfired. That was what jumpstarted his already crumbling psyche to completely collapse.

Josh was right. He was manipulative and psychotic and just an awful person overall, but he was never wrong, especially when it came to Tyler. The people who had killed a part of him were executed, so what was he holding onto? The memories he had of the first people to show him life outside of his father's protective bubble, or the traits they all shared?

The bug Josh planted on their last day together never left. It just festered and spread, until a bully from his new school 'accidentally' met the sharp end of a switchblade behind the movie theater Tyler worked at. His first kill was an accident, but it opened doors Tyler didn't know were even there to behind with.

Tyler understood now why they killed and, as it turned out, he enjoyed killing too. He liked to feel in control of something, to know he had power over the lives of his victims, and that he outlived one more person after killing them. It was the only thing in his life that he could control.

His methodology varied from kill to kill- knives, guns, rope- because it helped the police not make a connection. But one thing all tied them together. Joshua. The first boy to steal, mutilate, and murder his heart before giving it damages beyond repair.

But that wasn't why he was caught. Not at first.

Tyler stupidly went after the daughter of a foreign ambassador, not knowing who she was or how risky of a target she'd be. He was pulled over trying to get rid of evidence, and after the police searched the car, they found her bloody clothes and the murder weapon in his trunk. But fate was in his favor all along; they still hadn't found her body, or tied most of his other victims to him, for that matter.

"Did you check the snowbanks? They might be preserved there. Or maybe the sewers. The rats would've eaten hen already," Tyler teased, screwing with the officer across from him.

"Shut the hell up, you bastard," the cop said in response, slamming his hands onto the table. "I want a location of all the bodies."

"No."

They only knew about twenty of the murders, already calling Tyler the Manhattan Killer. He smiled to himself, thinking of how they still haven't caught up to Patrick and Lindsey.

The police officer, Tyler forgot his name, snarled and grabbed the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him over the table. Tyler feigned hurt, yelping and crying out for his father, who he knew was behind the one-way window.

"Come on, you don't much time left," the cop scowled. "Tell us and we can cut you a deal."

For a minute, he was scared that they knew about the plan, but he quickly relaxed, knowing they had no clue what was in store for hem.

When the officer didn't let go, Tyler dropped the acted quickly, mirroring his expression. There was no point of trying o play innocent. They caught him redhanded for twenty murders, but that was it. The evidence for the others should gone by now, as long as Lindsey held up her end of the deal.

Just like with Josh, Ashley, and Brendon, Tyler found partners who had the same "tendencies" as him. It was strange at first, knowing his whole life hung in the balance of what were at first strangers to him. But they grew close to more they killed, and since they lived some ways apart from each other, getting rid of the bodies was so much easier.

That was the one thing Josh did wrong- he left too much behind. Tyler improved upon his methods, getting rid of bodies, of blood, of evidence. The police didn't even know there was a serial killer until it was too late.

The media was panicking- they thought he was the next Son of Sam, a serial killer from the seventies. It was an honor to for them to think so highly of him, but he was much worse than the Son of Sam, because he killed more, and he wasn't alone.

Tyler stares coldly at the police officer who'd grabbed his shirt. His throat had gone dry, but not from fear. "Let me go."

"Or what, you sick son of a bitch?" The officer snapped, tightening his grip.

"Or else I won't tell you where to find the others."

That caught the cop off guard. "The others?"

"You know. The other bodies, the ones you didn't know were missing yet."

This was all part of the plan; Tyler knew eventually they'd get caught, so he instructed Patrick and Lindsey to get rid of whatever other evidence could've remained and then run for the hills.

He didn't care that he was caught. After finding out that Mariana was actually the U.N. ambassador's daughter, the trio know their reign of terror wouldn't end well. But Tyler getting was the intent from the beginning. It made the process even more fun, knowing that they wouldn't be able to pin the murders any of them, because Patrick and Lindsey would be in the wind, and Tyler would be dead.

Josh was right about one thing about him- Tyler was just as fucked up as him. No, he was worse.

The tension in the air was so thick it was nearly tangible. Tyler knew that look in the officer's eyes, the look of inexplicable shock. He saw it in his Dad's eyes too, when he was arrested and taken to the station in the first place.

"How many?" The other cop, a woman, had been so quiet Tyler had forgotten she was there.

"Let me go," he said slowly, not breaking eye contact with the male cop. "And I'll tell you."

Reluctantly, the officer let go, and Tyler fixed his shirt as much as he could with the short length of his handcuffs.

"How many?" The second officer repeated. She didn't look scared of him, only pissed off. That was about to change.

Tyler leaned back, grinning. "I don't think you want to know."

"Why wouldn't we?"

"Because sixty seven bodies is a lot to handle for a rookie cop."

All of the color drained from her face. Even the other cop leaned away, the shock turning into mortal terror. They stared at Tyler, almost like trying to comprehend how a kid could kill so mercilessly.

Easy. He gave all of his mercy to Josh.

His skin broke into a sweat, and Tyler shivered, his stomach disagreeing with the poison he'd ingested before being caught. Any minute now, he's drop dead, but he was still clinging to life.

The door swung open, Tyler's father in the doorway. He refused to look at his son, and for a second, Tyler frown, feeling a pang of guilt. But that evaporated when his dad said, "we found a body in the tea shop down on 15th street. The head was on a spike outside of the station. No witnesses."

Tyler closed his eyes, trying  to imagine the latest kill in his mind. The police didn't know this, but already knew who it was: Gerard, Lindsey's final kill. He wondered how long it would take for them to find Pete's body.

Not long, because the moment he thought that, phones began to ring in the background. One after another after another.

The older officer left first, mumbling under his breath about how Tyler was crazy. When the other cop started to close the door behind her, Tyler spoke up. "You won't find them. The bodies," he panted, his throat closing up.

She looked back, mortified. "What?"

Tyler smiled as wide as he could, his head feeling too heavy for him to hold up any longer. "We got rid of them pretty well."

She slammed the door, and Tyler's eyes rolled back, his head hitting the table.

67 murders, no bodies, and not a single killer.

2. by fourthunlit

"how's new york?" tyler muttered to himself while wrapping his hands, "how's new york? new york is fucked up. just like everywhere else."

"it made me feel powerful..." tyler gave the sand bag that hung from the barn ceiling a few jabs. "made you feel powerful, huh? this make you feel fucking powerful?" tyler clenched his teeth, rounding a kick into the side of the bag.

"you still love me? you see something different?" tyler was almost yelling at this point, throwing his fists as hard as he could, threads in the bag beginning to break, small streams of sand trickling to the ground.

"potential? you see fucking potential?" now he was screaming, "i believe in ya, my fucking ass, josh." tyler landed one last precise blow to the sand bag, busting a hole in it. tyler's chest heaved as the sand poured out onto the barn floor. it was kind of satisfying, taking that anger out until something released.

tyler had bulked up a bit, since leaving that god forsaken town (and josh) behind almost a year ago. tyler's dad felt that living on farm land might be better for him, rather than living in the big city. the farm was much more quiet (lonely) and it gave tyler a lot of time to think (drive himself crazy) about what josh had said to him.

i see somethin' different in ya. i see potential.

when the time came around to slaughter one of the pigs or the cows, or chop the heads off the chickens for dinner, tyler couldn't help but think about his so called potential. and, when he was up in the empty horse stables, beating the sand out of potato sacks, he wondered what josh thought was so different about him. what was so different about tyler? (who, frankly, would've never even thought of hurting a fly before he met josh.)

when tyler's dad first told him to stop hanging around josh because he was a bad influence, maybe he was right. and maybe he was right when he said it would be better for tyler to be on that farm, because it would help him heal and build a new character (boy, oh, boy did he build character.) but, tyler's dad has been rotting in the trough while the pigs eat away at his corpse for three days and honestly, it doesn't matter if his dad was right because being right doesn't bring back the dead.

"gon' hurt yaself if ya don' calm down, babe." josh chuckled, walking into the barn with a glass of ice cold lemonade, handing it to tyler as he sat down on a hay bale.

"i," drink "think," drink "we," drink "should get going." tyler's eyes searched josh's face for the safety he used to feel when he was with him. it was harder to find nowadays, since he'd escaped and found tyler.

he had found tyler in the middle of the night, on his knees in the pig pen, face covered in blood, one shaky hand grasping at a pair of pliers, while the other cupped a pile of teeth.

"g-gotta get the t-teeth out. gotta get the teeth out. gott-a g-et the teeth." tyler repeated over and over again, as he pulled more and more teeth from his dad's slack jaw.

"tyler." josh whispered in disbelief (it was actually pride. though, he won't admit that yet) as he stepped through the door.

tyler whipped his head around, dropping the pliers and the teeth, scrambling in the mess of blood and mud to get up. he ran at josh, wrapping his dirty arms around his body, burying is face in his chest, squeezing the man harder than he ever had before.

"i didn't think you'd come..." tyler whispered, grabbing handfuls of josh's shirt.

"i didn' think ya were gonna be knee deep in ya daddy's blood 'n guts when i got here..."

"things have changed a bit..." tyler looked up at him, brown eyes glistening.

"i can see that." josh chuckled, looking back down at the boy, eyes darting down to those sweet pink lips (that now had blood smeared across them) he'd been missing for so long. josh leaned down and gave tyler a longing kiss, tyler's knees nearly gave out as his whole world finally fell back into place.

"come look at what i've done..." tyler pulled away and looked at josh pleadingly, with a fire in his eyes, dancing on his tip toes, grasping at josh's hands to pull him further into the pig pen.

"that sounds good to me, darlin'," josh gave tyler a soft kiss on the forehead, "dal 'n ash are waitin' for us."

3. by youreitaliciminbold

That night was familiar, despite not having gone through it in months. I was scared awake by my own sobs, pitifully mixed with terrified screams. Every time I closed my eyes, the same images flashed behind them. A boy with gauges and a nose piercing, unruly curls just barely hanging over his mocha eyes. Gentle pink lips coated in blood, the red substance everywhere. Dripping down the walls, coating my arms, filling the room as me and Josh suffocated in it. He was slowly morphing into the person he was the last time I had seen him, developing that same faintly maniacal glint held deep within his eyes.

Every time, I had a chance to survive. My dad would be standing on nearby steps with his arm outstretched to me, but the other boy coated in ruby red would drag me back down. Smoke filled my lungs with every breath as my skin got more and more tainted, until, just as I reached my dad, I woke up. Three years later, and that same nightmare still haunted me.

Ever since I had left the prison that day, the seed of doubt that Josh had planted into my head grew. It sprouted, it bloomed, it became it's own presence in my body. I could continue his legacy. Get a taste of that high he spoke so fondly about, just once. I could do it. I know I could. But would I be able to stomach the guilt that came with it? The weight of having taken another human life?

It had been so long since the last time I tasted nicotine, but, God, was I really craving a cigarette. My dad told me I could always call him when things got bad like this, but I didn't want him to know about that tiny little doubt in my mind. He was a cop, for fucks sake. There's no way I wouldn't be sent straight to a loony bin for having homicidal thoughts set off by my psycho of an ex.

I sat up in bed, my shaky hands reaching for the extra pack of cigarettes I kept in my nightstand. They stopped halfway to their destination, pulling back to rest helplessly on my thighs.

I would never act on the thoughts. I knew I wouldn't. The weight of all the deaths I had caused still dragged me down, the guilt inescapable. What would Gerard be doing right now if he was still alive? What about Frank?

Jenna?

Just the thought of the blonde brought tears to my eyes. Fuck. I buried my face in my palms, digging the heels of my hands harshly into my eyes. She never deserved any of this. God, I would never forgive myself. I didn't deserve to be forgiven. My antidepressants usually kept these thoughts at bay, but sometimes they were just too overwhelming. I was too helpless. Hopeless. Useless.

How had I fallen so far from grace?

There had been a good few months in the middle of all this chaos, one where I was actually taken off of my antidepressants for a month. Everything had seemed so peaceful. My nightmares weren't nearly as often or severe, and my life seemed to be going great. I was doing everything right.

The thing that set me back again was seeing the faces of Ashley, Brendon, Dallon, and, most importantly, Josh, on my TV.

It was the news that they had finally been executed. They were dead. Gone. Nothing but cold hands and vacant eyes.

Everything they had caused finally got revenge in the cruelest way. It was the epitome of everything they deserved. To suffer like their victims had. But I still couldn't deny the bitter chill I felt in my bones at the news.

Memories of a boy who protected me so fully, and made me feel so safe clouded my thoughts. It hurt remembering Josh as that boy instead of the murderer he was.

Is that how people would remember me if I committed the same atrocities?

Even after two years, questions such as these were constantly piling up in my brain, never to be answered. Destined to sit in the crumbling tomb of my mind until I did something about it. It didn't feel like I could ever recover.

It sent shivers up my spine to think about how I could be a killer just like them. If I had pulled the trigger the second I pointed the gun towards my dad, I would be just as bad as they were. I would never forget that night, and neither would my father.

My biggest regrets all circled around the horrible things I had said and done to my dad, to everyone. He had only ever been trying to help me, but I was too blind. Josh perfectly strung every tiny string in his web of manipulation to pull me into it. And I got stuck. The silk swallowed me into it and covered my eyes, fed me pretty lies until I was choking on them.

It seemed as though a few got lodged in my throat. They suffocated me, keeping my words lodged deep within my body never to see the light of day. Too much thinking. Too much, too much, too much.

My hands found their way to my phone, dialing in my dad's number with hesitant fingers. He answered after only two rings.

"Ty? You alright, bud?"

I inhaled deeply, my crushed heart rattling inside of my body. Some sort of hollow echo could be heard coming from me if you listened close enough. No matter how hard I tried to keep it in, a choked sob still escaped me, salty liquid running down my cheeks. The substance was only tears, but my traumatized and paranoid mind made it into blood. Blood, blood, blood. Josh, Josh, Josh.

"I-I can't th-theres t-t-too much, I-fuck. I-I-I'm not a-a k-k-killer."

My heart pounded in my ears, deafening me, only my father's concerned voice being able to break through the barrier separating me and reality. Guilt overwhelmed me. Always guilty. Always guilty. Drowning in guilt, suffocating in remorse. All my fault.

"Deep breaths for me, that's it, Ty. Remember your breathing techniques. In for four, hold for four, out for four, repeat. You got it, buddy. I'm here."

His voice was noticeably shaky, and I quietly muttered the counts for my breathing, and hopefully he heard. Knew I was trying. I was trying so hard. Too hard. Everything was too much. I just wanted to sleep.

"You're not a killer, okay? You're not. It's okay, Ty. He's gone. Deep breaths."

All I did as a response was continue breathing. I couldn't do anything else, for fear of shattering completely. Things were going far too fast. I couldn't process. It seemed like every major thing happening in my life was gone in a blink of an eye, my brain getting overwhelmed as each day passed. I hadn't broken down like this in so long.

And, still, that little seed of doubt in my mind grew.

I need ya ta continue this for me

I need ya ta keep my legacy goin'

Could I?

Would I?

Maybe these questions were better left unanswered.

4. by dirtyjoshy

throughout the entire car ride back to new york, the words that josh said kept repeating in tyler's mind.

"i still love ya. i do."

as much as he hated to admit it, he still loved josh. he knew it wasn't as deep as it was when they were together, but the feelings were still there.

but the josh he saw in there wasn't the josh he knew, the josh he fell in love with. he was always honest, caring, protective. he didn't kill people just to feel power and superiority.

but he did.

tyler just didn't know.

how would he know? yeah, the murders were all somehow tied to him, but he always deemed them a coincidence. the idea of josh being a serial killer never once popped into his mind until that day.

no.

tyler was not going to think of that.

of all things that happened between his "friend" group, he did not want think about that day. about what brendon told him. about what he would've done.

"who were ya goin' ta pick?"

those fucking words bounced around his mind like ping pong balls being hit back and forth. he didn't want to think of josh anymore. but the harder he tried to stop, the more he thought of him.

the brunette wanted to cry. god, did he want to cry. but there was something that was preventing him from doing so. maybe it was the numbness from everything. maybe it was the trauma. tyler just knew that one day he was going to break. break into a million little pieces. and he wouldn't allow anyone near him.

it sucks really. being given information that makes sense, but you don't want it to be true. being ripped apart from the one place you felt at home. being told the person youre so deeply in love with is really a cold blooded killer. being tormented and manipulated. seeing those you love most being hurt. it sucks.

it takes time to get over things like that. and sometimes, you don't get over it. tyler knew it took time. and he had people to help him with things. his dad, his therapist, his new friends, conan and bea.

he knew they would do their best to understand. but the question is, would they really help?

"i see somethin' different in ya. i see potential..."

tyler didn't want to be like josh. he didn't. but he was scared he would turn out like him. scared he would give in one day and become just like josh. the fact that he genuinely would've killed his own father over josh made him feel disgusting. he had only known josh for a few months while his dad was there his entire life. even on days when he hardly saw him because he was too busy with work, tyler knew he was still there. he was just too blind to see it once josh came around.

"hey bud, im gonna go buy somethin'. do ya want anythin'?" his dad said. they were in the parking lot of a McDonald's and tyler didn't even notice that they had stopped.

the clock read that it was nearly midnight. tyler didn't know exactly where they were but he was guessing either ohio or pennsylvania.

"just the usual," he responded, monotone. he didn't look at his dad when he answered, so he wasn't able to see the frown on his face.

tyler almost flinched when he felt his dad pat his knee before getting out of the car and walking into the fast food restaurant. the boy watched as his dad went in before he turned and disappeared.

tyler closed his eyes, pressing his head back to the seat. he just wanted to sleep. he didn't know if he was asleep or awake the entire drive, but did it really matter? either way, the thoughts he was having were going to go through his head.

his dad came back to car with a bag and a McFlurry in his hand. tyler's lips curled up into a small smile when his dad handed him the drink and pulled out fries and a big mack.

tyler grabbed a fry and dipped it into the drink, sighing in delight when he put it into his mouth. he continued eating, as his dad did. the two ate in silence for nearly the entire time. chris was the first to break the silence by telling tyler, "i wish you'd smile like that more."

--

it's been a week since the visit to see josh in prison and those stupid words his ex said were still imprinted in his mind. he explained his feelings to his therapist and almost had a panic attack as his own words reminded him of that god awful day so many weeks ago.

he was able to control the temptation to steal cigarettes more and more as the weeks passed. however, the sensation of having a release like that which can happen so quickly is still with him. tyler started trying out breathing exercises which work out most of the time.

not only that, he was almost always able to talk to conan or bea about everything. they always made time for him no matter what. and if they weren't available, he would just text his dad and then they would talk about it once he'd get home.

tyler just genuinely got better.

if he had the same mindset he did within the first week of the josh's arrest, he'd think recovery would be impossible.

yet here he is. improved. on the road of recovery. trying his best to be who he is.

the day he left the prison after visiting josh, he thought he was going to break, give into exactly what josh told him to do, break into a million little pieces. but he hasn't. in fact, he's put himself together. with the help of others.

and yeah, maybe it took three and a half years to completely get over everything that happened with josh and him. maybe he was constantly remind about josh as his story became popular. but he had a way to cope. music. talking. music helped him for everything. music didn't let him down. neither did the few people he treated with all his heart.

tyler was able to lose himself in such a positive way, it truly changed his life.

—————

That's all! Thank you once again if you entered!

And with that, Choke is officially over!

The ending is still up to you though...