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jamiebluewind · 2 months

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My arm hurts

I broke it 5 years ago and it still hurts. It's still weak. Sometimes when I pick up something, it would feel like my arm was breaking. I went to doctors. The xrays were normal. I've got enough movement. It's fine...

It wasn't

I went to my new pcp (primary care physician) after it was getting to me again. He sent me to a specialist on bones who then sent me to a SPECIAL specialist on just arm bone stuff. The specialists saw my flexibility and the normal x-ray, but also the pain, so they ordered a CT scan. I half hoped they would find something just to have proof that I wasn't crazy and maybe a way to go forward.

The CT scan results popped in my portal, so I looked.

Chronic fracture deformities (bone kept breaking and/or bone took a looong time to heal) post ORIF (the surgery they do to repair bones). Cortical lunacy along the radial aspect of the mid radial diaphanous (in the middle of the big bone in my arm, there's a line that the 3D x-ray went through that it shouldn't have been able to at that strength).

I see the specialist again in 2 weeks. It's been sooo bad the last month. I currently can't hold my phone in my left hand for longer than a minute without it hurting. I struggle to pick up my cat with one arm. I can't open child safe caps, so my roommate has to help. I use a cane for my sporadic left side weakness, so having my left hand be useless means I really can't do much while walking. I'm moving in a couple months and I'm struggling to pack. Just on and on and on...

I broke my left ankle a couple years ago. The scar is small, there is no pain, I often forget anything is in there, and I swear it's stronger than it was BEFORE the break. I never get to forget about my arm because on top of the pain and everything else, the doctor that did the surgery left a long scar down both sides of it. People assume things when they see the bigger one. I hate it. I'm tired of explaining it. I'm tired of people getting weird or staring at it. I was going to get a tattoo over it to make it a little less noticeable, but it hurts so much and the scars are so thick that I don't think I'll ever be able to.

- Pictures below break, followed by graphic details -

The other side isn't as bad but...

yeah.

You might be wondering what those dashes are beside the long scar. If you wanna know, be warned. This part gets graphic.

The original doctor used non dissolving sutures, wrapped about 2/3rds of the stitched area in a single layer of gause with a cast over it, and sent me home. I tried contacting them about my stitched catching in the cast and pulling. About my skin growing over the stitches.

They ignored me every time.

It wasn't until I told them that the knot of one got so stuck in the cast that I had to cut it with a pair of sanitized nail clippers. They had me come in and were actually SURPRISED that my skin had grown completely over all the stitches except for the knot of some of them. So what did they do?

They cut.

I was awake and just sitting in the office as they cut off my cast. They gave me nothing for pain as over two dozen cuts were made down my arm to get enough access to my arm to dig out the stitches with tweezers. On top of pain, I felt weak and this sick cold feeling as they worked. Then, the other side of my arm and more of the same. I was shaking from it all. And then? He just sent me home. Gave me a brace to wear. When I told him that the weight of my hand made my arm feel like it was gonna snap and that I still could barely move two of my fingers, he waved me off, saying it would get better with physical therapy.

It took YEARS of me working on my hand to get as much dexterity as I have now. And it hurts. It always hurts. I told him. I told so many. Something is wrong. I did everything they suggested and nothing helped.

Part of me wonders if this is all my fault. My father said it was because I was stupid (went to a sleep doctor and they had something slick on the floor that I slipped on and the ENT that came ALSO nearly slipped on it too). My mind says all of you will blame me for cutting the stitch caught on my cast. But... I don't know. Sometimes screaming into the void helps. Sometimes a stranger is even nice and/or helpful about it! I just... two weeks. Two weeks until I find out if anything can even be done for this. And all the while, I wasn't able to sue the place I fell and the surgeon that messed up my arm is still probably out there practicing. It sucks.

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one-abuse-survivor · 1 year

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Ice Anon

Last night I had a weird dream, but all I can remember from it is this.

Father was really angry at me, he was yelling for some reason, and dream me walked up to him, looked him dead in the eyes and said, "Hit me, I know you want to." So with no hesitation he dug his fingers into my face so hard I could feel him sink into it and blood pour out, he then tugged so the wounds got bigger before he let go.

I remember blood was running down my face and that I could actually feel the pain, I remember dream me smiling and saying, "I want to coat my throat in red, I'm so tired I wish I was dead."

I said this right at my father but he didn't seem to care...

I told my mother about this dream and she thought it was weird, and didn't understand it. I know it's bad that I wouldn't even be surprised if he did hit me one day, but she doesn't see it somehow.

I don't know why.

Hi again!

That sounds like a truly awful dream, but the worst part of it all is that it afterwards felt like something he'd be capable of doing in real life. I hope you never have to go through that.

Sorry your mother can't see that you feel unsafe around your father. You deserve to be heard and to feel safe at home.

Sending a virtual hug ❤️

#Ask #Ice anon #Verbal abuse mention #Physical abuse mention #Blood tw #Suicidal tw #Abusive father tw

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furiousgoldfish · 2 months

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personal post (tw: suicidal ideation, detailed descriptions of psychological and emotional abuse, osdd, alters, theories about alters splitting)

I have a child alter who is wildly suicidal, to the point where they'll push me to commit suicide with every opportunity, and try to do psychological damage to me as an attempt to make me suicidal. I've been trying to figure out for years what was it that made them so determined to die, with no luck because this alter does not give any information away, and seems to hate me and my attempts.

Recently I've had a flashback where I remembered what it was like to be their age. It felt like I had to die. There was constant pressure, almost like a duty, that I have to be thinking about ending my life at all times. I needed to make sure I wasn't alive for long. And I felt this at all times, that continuing to be alive is a failure and I need to do whats right. It was bizarre to remember. But there had to be a reason I felt this.

I attempted again to probe at the alter, to try and figure out whats the reason for all this, what was done to us to make us so determined to die? And this time I managed to get a little bit of information – the the alter lashed out at me saying 'well there's no other way! remember this!' and I got some interesting flashbacks of psychological abuse. I knew vaguely this was going on, but forgot for the most part, that it had any effect on me. (tw for the next part)

When I was about 8 or 9, I got my own room, and one of my caretakers, my grandmother, had an issue with that. Until then, she was able to lock me in her own room and beat me, because I slept in there, but now it was a bit more difficult to catch me. So, she would often stand in my doorway, and scream at me, for hours, in bouts of intense rage. I thought this was normal at the time, just because it was so common, and nobody did anything to stop it.

She would start by calling me animal names, and demonic names, telling me that I'm the most selfish brat to ever exist who only ever thinks of themselves, and I will burn in hell for it – she would describe it in detail how I would be boiled eternally, there was no escape from it. Then she would go on to tell me how everything that is wrong in the world is directly my fault – my parents fighting, other people being upset, her entire life and misery, that was all on me, I was the direct cause of it. And then, she would go on to describe in detail, how she was going to kill me, usually suffocating me with her bare hands. And she would swear and promise that she would do it, she'd challenge me to not even think that it wouldn't happen. And then she'd go on to describe how much I deserved that, how everything I do in life is done directly to ruin her life, to cause her misery, how I'm a demon who is only happy when she suffers, how I satisfy myself by torturing her, how I am the most twisted, cruel, despicable, demonic, monstrous, unforgivable, horrendous ugly creature that ever existed, worst person in the entire world, and how I should be deeply ashamed of myself and everything I've ever done. She would state very clearly how everything in the entire world would be better if I didn't exist.

Now, me being age 9 or something like that, I thought, well, maybe she's right, maybe I am a bad person, maybe I am selfish by not forfeiting every second of my life to others, maybe I really am the reason everyone is fighting all the time, maybe I could have stopped it. Maybe I need to think about others more often, maybe I need to be more critical of myself. But, no matter how much I changed my behaviour, her rage wouldn't stop, until I was faced with the inescapable feeling of just being so intrinsically wrong and defected that I shouldn't exist. I remember wanting to disappear, wanting to fall trough the floor and into the earth and cease and desist. I would have to spend hours and hours listening to her scream, telling me I should have been murdered the second I was born.

And at this point my father had tried to/almost killed me a few times so death felt like a very inevitable and natural thing to happen to me. I wasn't even scared of upset about it because it just seemed like one of the normal things you know? If you're small and you see things are bad you easily accept your fate. If everyone around you thinks you should die, then you will die soon and thats that.

So by the age of 13 I was full on suicidal, I saw no value in myself, I felt violence and pain was all I deserved because everyone agreed upon it, and it was what I was experiencing at all times. I couldn't stop listening to the screaming and at the end of it, I just agreed with it, it felt true, why would anyone say it so many times, with such intense rage, if it was made up? And by the person who knew me since I was born? I had no arguments against it.

And then one day I was like, wait, this will kill me. Her screaming at me will force me into suicide. I can't have that. I need to cut her off if I want to live. This person doesn't love me, she's trying to kill me. I can't keep listening to her or I'll die. And then I did the funniest thing – I stopped talking to her even though we lived at the same house. And she did even funnier thing and DIDN'T NOTICE for a FULL YEAR. Which sounds wild on the surface, but here's how it played out: She would say something to me, I would stay quiet. She would assume my answer, and say what she wanted me to say, and add 'right?' at the end. I would stay quiet. She would continue the conversation as if I had said what she imagined. And this went on for a year.

With this new situation unfolding, I became certain that she didn't love me, even though she would cry and swear how she sacrificed everything for me and was the only person who loved me and so on – I literally caught her not noticing that she's cut off for a whole year. That was some heavy evidence and I had it.

The screaming however, continued, but now I decided, hey, I don't need to listen to this shit. I would put my hands on my ears (didn't have earphones in that era) and make whatever noises to shut her out. And it worked, I became unaffected by the screaming because I was no longer listening, she eventually stopped because it became obvious that I was oblivious to it and had no reaction, and I guess that was just not fun for her. I went on to not be severely affected by whatever she said because I understood by then that she's a liar and after my life and didn't care for her antics anymore.

Now you might be noticing a lack of consistency here – just how would a child who is completely broken and suicial just snap out of it, decide to cut off the cause of suicidality and then live on to be unaffected by the same abuse that almost cost them their life until then? I originally thought it was some survival instinct kicking in, letting me know that I'm too close to death and need to be putting some boundaries in my life, but that wasn't the case. I went on to think that I was no longer affected by the years of this abuse, I never thought about it, never felt like I needed to process that, I was convinced I dealt with this as a child.

What actually happened is that I became too close to suicide and I split. My osdd figured I was close to death and something needed to be done. An alter formed who was able to contain all of that trauma inside themselves, the memories of how it felt to listen to that screaming for hours and hours until all hope was lost, until I could no longer see myself as anything but deserving of death and eternal hell. That was wrapped up and put inside a child version of myself who couldn't grow, couldn't see trough any of it, and had to stay trapped in that world, where they're always a minute away from being psychologically tortured and having their integrity assaulted in every way possible, and forced to listen how much their family members wanted to brutally murder them.

Once this alter split off, I was left in control of the body. I was able to evaluate the situation without the emotional effects of being brainwashed or tortured and decided to cut of grandmother immediately and to live my life without listening to her nonsense.

What is interesting to me is that this was the third time an alter split off in order for our life to be saved, one before was split due to my father, and another due to my grandmother, because of other nasty stuff she was doing to me. I'm trying to figure out just how neglected a child needs to be that a complete overhaul of attitude, sudden non-reactiveness to brainwashing and sudden complete apathy to screaming interactions, is just not noticed. Like this kid was close to death seconds before and now they're just fine and going on about their day ignoring everyone, and nobody noticed.

And this is not me being strong or resilient or anything like that. It was my brain tearing my memories and emotions in pieces and containing them into alters so that I would be able to live on without comitting suicide. If this hadn't happened I'd be dead. This also meant that all of that trauma would come back and make me sick for the rest of my life, or until I resolve it. That was me sacrificing my future in order to be able to survive the present. Developing trauma disorders that meant I would have to live while the pressure to commit suicide is always present in my brain, but I can resist it because I don't remember how it came to be there.

So, back to the main plot, after I finally extracted this information from my trapped, tortured alter, who just wanted to end it all, I said 'okay, well give the trauma to me, I'm older so it makes sense for me to handle it.'

I didn't handle it well. It was instant pain, dread, horror, I wanted to be dead. I was bedridden for days, kept re-experiencing the screaming, remembered how many times I listened to descriptions of myself getting murdered, felt very horrified about it, and couldn't see how I thought this wouldn't affect me. What even needs to be wrong with a person to go tell a child in detail how they're going to murder them, how is this giving anyone pleasure. Feeling very icky about that. How hard would it be not to speak out loud your children-murdering fantasies. Get a secret diary or something for heavens sake.

It's a few days later and I am feeling, kinda weak, kinda close to passing out at all times, a bit shaken, bit scared. Very betrayed. Thankfully my sense of self is enough well established that I never doubt if anything that was said to me back then was true, because I'm so disgusted with the person who said it, I'm just feeling grossed out with it. I don't think I've managed to take in all of the trauma from the child alter, it wouldn't be something I could experience in a few days, it's been years of that stuff. But I'm glad to make progress, I'm pleased that something originally nonsensical makes sense, I'm glad I can make connections to why this alter is so suicidal, and I can at least try to make it easier on them. I'm hopeful that one day this part of me won't need to be trapped in an eternal state of a child being told to die.

#osdd #alters #child alter #suicidal alter #tw suicidal ideation #tw graphic descriptions of verbal abuse #tw death mention #tw intentions of murder #tw child abuse #abusive caretakers

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punkstylerecovery · 1 year

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Generally speaking, your parents often owe you a lot more than you're taught to believe. A lot of people are raised to believe that parents do not really owe you that much beyond food and shelter and that's not true. In fact, you can have parents who give you food, shelter, patience and kindness and STILL deserve more from them.

By being your parents, they've accepted a very special relationship and amount of responsibility for you. Do you know how many people I know whose parents have never genuinely apologized to them? How many people’s parents physically hurt them, how many people’s parents mock their insecurities, how many people’s parents don’t care for their children’s health, how many parents make their children (intentionally or otherwise) want to die?

And so many people don’t give a fuck. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not treat us to respect our parents in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t deserve shit. We’re raised in cultures that more often than not teach us to “respect our parents” in spite of most anything while also teaching everyone that children don’t really deserve shit. It varies but its so common that lots of people don’t even think twice about it.

But children DO deserve more than they’re generally given. So much more! And so many things that are literally just abusive are considered normal parenting all around the world and that’s vile, especially considering children are the most severely affected by this and have no “societal power” to wield to put a stop to it beyond what they can scramble together through a combination of sheer determination, shock value, strength and fucking luck.

Not to sound radical, but I think we owe children a fuck ton more than they’re being given now and I think people need to learn so much more about abuse and how that ties into the common underplaying of what we’re owed in parent/child relationships.

#parenting #Abuse #Tw abuse #child abuse tw #tw verbal abuse #tw suicide mention #Depression #Neglect tw #Parental Neglect #punkstyle #physical abuse tw #childcare??#dunno what else to tag this #whatever

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forever-rogue · 2 years

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Hi Bee! I've been a long time reader and fan of your blog! The way you write for Eddie is insane 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ I love it 🥹 if you feel comfortable, could you please write something for fem!reader x Eddie where she has a history of being bullied (physically & verbally) and one day they could be arguing or something and Eddie is on edge and raises his voice and moves too quickly and she flinches (or maybe has a panic attack or something) I would really appreciate this ❤️🥺 comfort and fluff at the end because I need that rn ❤️

AN | Okay, but this is a little angsty but mostly soft 🥺🥰

Warnings | Language, mentions of past verbal abuse

Pairing | Eddie x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It had been a long week. Weeks, really. And you felt like you and Eddie were like ships passing in the night more than anything else. You were busy with college classes and your part time job, and he was busy working at the shop. He’d been working a lot lately, even more than he normally did, but you hadn’t questioned it. You knew that you didn’t bring in a lot of money only working part time while you finished your degree, but it would be worth it in the end.

But Eddie, good, kind hearted, wonderful man that he was, insisted that you it was okay. He wanted you to be able to focus on your studies, rather than have to worry about working. He was the main provider for your little family of two, and while it was a lot of pressure, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. In fact, one of the reasons he’d been working even longer hours and helping a few customers on the side, was so he could save up to buy you an engagement ring. You always insisted that you didn’t need anything fancy, but Eddie wanted to do this right, he wanted to do all the things with you, including proposing with a pretty ring.

Right now though, you were desperately wanting to spend some time with him, so you went ahead and planned a little date night for the two of you. You’d gotten a few very generous tips at the cafe lately and stashed them away in the rainy day fund; and now it was time to use them. You wanted a nice night out for both of you.

“Eddie Spaghetti,” you were grinning from ear to ear as you walked into your shared apartment. You’d just gotten out of class and he should have been home a few minutes before you. He didn’t respond to your excited call for him and you wondered if he was home yet, “babe?”

You walked into the bedroom and found him sitting at the edge of the bed, boots off and a fresh change of clothes. He was breathing deeply, eyes closed and leaned back on his hands. Poor thing looked tired, and you knew he deserved the rest.

“Babe-”

“I heard you,” he said, not altogether rudely or kindly either, “hi sweetheart.”

“Hello my love,” you kneeled at his feet, reaching for his hand to take in yours, “I missed you today! I’ve been missing you a lot lately.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he responded with a gentle squeeze of your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. You could see the exhaustion in them and it made your heart constrict.

“Listen, I set a little bit of money aside for us and I thought we could go out tonight,” you were grinning, but there was an unreadable expression on his features, “get dinner and maybe catch a movie?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.”

“I just think it would be nice to have a night out to ourselves-”

“I can’t tonight,” he repeated as you pouted at him, “I’m sorry - maybe this weekend, okay?”

“But Eddie-”

“Please!” he snapped suddenly, dropping your hand as he gave you a sharp look. You’d never heard him raise his voice before…especially not at you. The only time you really heard him get loud was when he was in the thrill of the moment during a new campaign, “I’m exhausted and I have to go back to work tonight.”

“I don’t think you should-”

“Really?” his eyes narrowed and you gulped nervously, “then who is going to pay for everything, huh?”

“Eddie,” you stepped back, your heart racing as you felt the stinging of tears in the back of your eyes, “I-I-”

“Not all of us have the luxury of going to school and working a few hours here and there at a coffee shop!” you’d never heard him this mad before, not in over three years of dating, and it frightened you. You didn’t like this Eddie and wanted your Eddie back. You flinched away from him, trying to hide how scared you were.

“I just thought you could use a break,” your voice sounded so small and hurt that it broke Eddie’s heart. He shouldn’t have snapped at you, shouldn’t have taken his momentary anger (which was not even at you) out on you, “you’ve been working so hard. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sweetheart,” he tried to reach for you but you shook your head and pulled away to where he couldn’t reach you, “honey - I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. Will you come here, please?”

“No,” you shook your head and clambered to your feet before scampering towards the door, “please just don’t.”

“Angel,” he got up and tried to walk over to you but you ducked in the hallway, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I’m going to go,” you stammered nervously, almost running into the living room to grab your bookbag. Eddie followed you slowly, trying to keep a bit of distance that you obviously needed, “I-I’ll see you later.”

You were gone and out the door before he could say anything else, heading to your care. You weren’t sure exactly what to do, but you just needed some space. You’d never had a single moment with him like that before and it felt terrible. This wasn’t Eddie, and you knew that he wasn’t going to turn into some monster, but the moment had settled harshly in your bones.

Eddie’s eyes welled up with tears as he stared at the door. He hated the look on your face; he hated himself more for snapping at you. He’d just been so tired and run down, and it had all come to a head. Unfortunately, it was you that was caught in the crossfire; his love, his princess, his angel. The last person he ever wanted to hurt. And he’d just gone and done that.

“Fuck,” he sighed at himself, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He wanted to come after you, figuring you’d more than likely have gone to Steve and Robin’s place. But, more than anything, he wanted you to be comfortable, so he opted to give you space instead.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you got home, Eddie was already in bed. But he wasn’t sleeping, instead he was staring at the ceiling, unable to calm his worried mind down. He heard the front door open and close, followed by your soft tread, but remained still and silent. He noticed the hesitation in your tread after he heard your bag settle on the floor, followed by your shoes. He hated the idea that he was the reason for your quiet shyness.

You paused outside the bedroom door, noticing that it was still partly open, almost like a sign of apology. You paused with your hand on the knob before slowly pushing it open and letting yourself in. There was a soft glow from the bedside table where the small lamp was still on. It illuminated his body, but you knew immediately that he was still awake.

“E-Eddie?” you whispered softly, padded over to your side of the bed, cautiously sitting down. Your boyfriend rolled over so he was facing you, blinking softly but not yet saying anything so he wouldn’t push you further. You met his eyes and offered him a small little half smile. He visibly relaxed when he saw that you weren’t shying away, “I know it’s late, but can we talk?”

“Yeah - y-yes,” he sat up and leaned against the headboard, lightly patting the space next to him. You didn’t even bother to take off your clothes before crawling into your side of the bed, sitting cross legged next to him, “I…first of all, I want to say how sorry I am. I should never have talked to you like that. I know you probably don’t believe me right now and I don’t expect you to, but I will never talk to you like that again. I swear it.”

“I know,” you nodded softly, playing with a loose thread hanging from the sleeve of your sweater, “I know you won’t, Eddie. I know that a one time thing isn’t going to change our entire relationship.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” you raised a tentative hand before reaching over and touching his cheek, brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your soft palm on his skin, “I think I owe you an explanation too.”

“Sweetheart,” he wrapped his fingers around your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “I am tired, and I’ve been tired and I know you have been too. And it’s not because you don’t work hard - I know you do. I know it’s not just going to school full time and working part time. And it’s nothing I hold against you, because that’s what we agreed to, and let’s be honest, school ain’t for me.”

“Eddie, you’ve been working so much,” you whispered, “and I don’t want you to run yourself into the ground. We’ll be okay if you cut back your hours, especially the extra ones. I can always pick a few more hours on the weekends…but we’ll figure it out.”

“I…” he swallowed thickly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing, “I know I can cut back and we’d be okay….I took the extra shifts and hours because I was using them to save some extra money.”

“Oh,” your brows furrowed in surprise; you spotted the dark pink flush in his cheeks, “whatever for?”

“I was saving up so I could buy you a ring,” he confessed, looking like a shy boy rather than a grown man. Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t prevent the small gasp that escaped your lips. A wave of emotion caused your eyes to prickle with tears, “I know you said you didn’t need an engagement ring or a big proposal or any of that, but baby, I want to do this. I want to do it right, and get you that ring.”

“Oh Eddie,” a few tears had prickled up and rolled down your cheeks, which he tenderly wiped away, “I had no clue…I…I love you so much.”

“I love you,” he promised, “I hope you’re not mad…”

“Of course I’m not mad,” you beamed at him, “I think you’re a stubborn man that won’t change his mind, huh?”

“I won’t,” he agreed, causing you to giggle at him, “I’m gonna cut back my hours, I swear. But I’m also going to get you that ring, yeah?”

“Okay,” you didn’t need or want fancy material things like shiny rings, but damn. You weren’t about to say no to Eddie. You knew now that he’d spoken his piece, it was your turn to speak yours, “I, ugh, also want to apologize for how I reacted earlier. I, umm, growing up kinda sucked, you know? Well, I know you know. I never really gave you the full details, ‘cause it never felt necessary. But in school I was bullied a lot, especially when I was young because of being different. Home wasn’t much better; my mom, she…liked my older brother and sister a lot but with me it was different. For whatever reason, she hated me and my life a living hell half the time. She used to call me names, tell me I was stupid and unlovable, and would never get anywhere in life.”

“Sweetheart…”

“She liked to yell, a lot, almost like it was her form of a drug,” you shrugged, “I’m sure that’s why I don’t like any sort of yelling nowadays. I never really left like I fit in anywhere. Not until I met you….you and the rest of the gang.”

“I…I’m sorry,” was all he managed to choke out as he settled his hand on your neck, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin, “I had no clue…I-I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“We all go through our own things,” you put your hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “I should have told you sooner…but I want you to know that you are the best thing that has happened to me. I love you very much, Eddie.”

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he leaned in and pressed a soft barely there kiss to your lips, “will you forgive me? I know it’s a lot to ask for.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you leaned your cheek against his, breathing in slowly, “we both…it’s not that we made mistakes, it’s just that….we just didn’t quite sync up today. And that’s okay, because we’ll learn and it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” his eyes were soft and bambi-like, making your heart melt. You loved this man beyond measure, and you knew he left the same, “how about we use some of that extra money we’ve stashed away and go away this weekend, huh? Just the two of us, no cares in the world.”

“I’d like that,” the smile on your face was breathtaking and electric and Eddie was positive he’d just fallen a little more in love, “let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” he agreed softly, “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson imagine #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn x reader #tw: mentions of verbal abuse

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