#low self worth

[guitarplayermrs]

[bunnighost]

[lavendergoddesstarot]

𝑫𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒐𝒑𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒗𝒆𝒔

[slowspaceshuttle]

i really wanna be pretty for him

[star-remina]

I wish I had killed myself when less people would miss me

[lunanight2012]

Great my brain is bullying me and now my already low self-worth is even lower and honestly why is there not more fanfics with the tag of Vinsmoke Sanji has Low Self-Worth Issues...

I just wanna read stories about my boy having the same issue as me 😔

[safe-haven-safe-place]

[harrypoppinss]

Insecure

Dean Winchester x reader

This is kinda self-indulgent I guess, I just think Dean having an insecure partner is something I could see.

Warnings: angst, comfort, fluff, self-esteem issues, low self-confidence, mentions of past relationships

You’ve never been the most breathtaking person in a crowded room; growing up your classmates made sure you knew that fact. Your self esteem was always below the line of where it should be, and when you got together with Dean it did fill up a bit.

You were doing so good, starting to appreciate how beautiful you were, starting to grow the confidence to wear bikinis and tight dresses. But, here you are now; seated at the diner table across from Sam. The waitress was skinny, blond, with blue eyes. Basically a living representation of a barbie doll. Something you used to kick yourself for not looking like.

You weren’t big, but you weren’t small either. You were on the middle ground. Dean knew of your insecurities, what triggered them and why you got they way you were today. So when he saw the way your eyes stuttered at they were fluttering shut, the way you gulped as the prissy waitress flirted with Dean right infront of you. He immediately took action.

He knew what it was like to look in the mirror and hate what you saw, it broke his heart that you had to go through that. He rested a hand on your thigh reassuringly, making sure to shut the waitress down with her flirtatious remarks. But the way he said it struck the last nerve that was keeping your emotions intact. You knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way, you knew he was saying it that way to get the point across.

“‘M sorry, but this one right here,” he said, patting your thigh that he was just squeezing reassuringly. “Is mine.” You felt your breath hitch at that. The waitress scoffed a little bit, before you felt her eyes pouring into your head that was facing towards your lap. “Oh c’mon,” she purred, leaning on the table a bit; pushing her cleavage out. Deans eyes didn’t leave the menu that he was looking at. “You can do so much better-” She was cut off by you abruptly getting out of your seat, your hair hiding the way your bottom lip was quivering, the way your eyes were leaking with the newfound tears.

Dean cursed under his breath, him and Sam simultaneously sliding out of the booths. The waitress huffed angrily tucking her pad and pen into her apron. You pushed the door of the diner open, your hands stuffing themselves into your sweatshirt pockets as you walked towards the unlocked impala. You felt bad for leaving like that, you knew how hungry Dean was, and how much he had driven. The pestering half of your brain was nagging at you that Dean was still sitting in the booth, not moving an inch from his seat.

When in reality, he was just a few paces behind you, calling out your name like a broken record. “____, just wait-” Dean said in a plea, grabbing onto the impala door before you could shut it all the way. He opened his mouth back up to say something, but you beat him to it.

“.. I’m sorry,” you croaked out, your hand swatting away the tears from your face. Dean knitted his eyebrows together at this, he didn’t know why you were apologizing. “Sweetheart.. why are you sorry?” He questioned gently, before situating himself to be on one knee outside of the door, his face level with yours.

You opened your mouth, but quickly closed it, don’t be stupid, you made him skip a meal because of your pity party. That message echoed through your clouded brain as you sniffed softly, before shrugging your shoulders. “You have no reason to apologize, for anything.” Dean said after a moment. His hand taking yours, bringing your knuckles to his mouth.

You told him about your past relationship, how the guy you were with would always call you “dramatic” or “attention seeking” anytime you expressed if you were hurt by something. He knew you were doubting yourself, whenever this would happen your eyebrows would go together in a line, your bottom lip would be chewed to bits by how much you bit down on it.

“I do have a reason,” you said, your voice sounding weak and pathetic. “I didn’t mean to go out of there like that, I’m sorry-” before you could even finish your sentence, Dean was pulling you into his arms. You tensed up a bit at the sudden embrace but quickly melted into it. He placed a hand on the back of your head, the other one around your shoulders as he shushed your crying form.

God, look at you. You told yourself, but you suppressed those thoughts. Regaining your composure, you leaned away from Dean; feeling him cup your cheeks. While he was making you look at him, he reassured you that you were his for a reason, and he loved every part about you equally.

Needless to say, you guys drove back to the bunker and Dean whipped up some burgers for the you, him and Sam.

[rottendevotion]

[elegyofdionysus]

It's so weird. I can only be myself around people who don't know me.

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Exposed

-

You'll have to excuse

My shaking hands.

My heart beats with

Desperation

As the days pass faster.

I'm terribly afraid that

I'll never find a single thing

About you

That I do not fall for.

As I bloom beside you,

Are my petals to your liking?

I fear vulnerability

The way the damned fear salvation.

As if being too eager

Will rip it from out of reach.

I'm learning a lot about myself these days,

As I'm learning a lot about you.

The more I seem to fall in love,

The less I think you do.

x

[guitarplayermrs]

[pratchettquotes]

"I think Mister Nutt has some very good ideas," he said carefully, "and I think he should continue. Do carry on, Mr. Nutt."

Watching Nutt look up was like watching the sun rise, but a hesitant sun afraid that any moment the gods might slap it back down into the night, and hungry for reassurance that this would not be so.

Terry Pratchett, Unseen Academicals

[justscribbledwords]

my mom only speaks in tongue that talks about weightloss success stories and i am always the unsuccessful one

[star-remina]

My self harm has always been punches, slaps and scratches. I wish I was brave enough to cut myself. I don’t know why, but it’s a deep urge in me yet I can’t bring myself to do it

[quietly-by-myself]

An Earthly Cosmological Redshift - Chapter 12 - An Old Dog and New Tricks

Masterlist

No beta, we die like Fearon's dreams. This is angsty fluff.

CW: past domestic violence, referenced past noncon, consensual spice (with a little bit of kink), mafia whump, flashback, PTSD, cancer, addiction, relapse, vampire caretaker, human whumpee, low self-esteem

===

Fucking a fledgling vampire when Fearon was his sire was a strange thought indeed. However, Fearon knew that Jules was the same Jules he’d been ready to sacrifice anything for just a few months ago. This was the same Jules he’d fucked before. 

Or rather, who’d fucked him before. Fearon was seldom the one on top. Jules seemed perfectly happy with that. Sometimes, though, Fearon found himself wanting to be the one on top. 

He’d brought it up to Jules gently, knowing that Jules was sometimes sensitive about the subject. To his surprise, Jules had been open to the idea.

“As long as you stay my sub,” he’d teased, smiling. He’d been in much better health recently. Physically and mentally. “I don’t want you getting any ideas now that you’re my sire, too.”

Fearon had chuckled nervously. “I’d never forget, sir,” he’d teased right back, leading them both to laugh. After all - that stayed in the bedroom, at least for them.

Jules had given a smile that wavered. 

So, that late night, when Jules and Fearon had gotten in bed together, Fearon had forced Jules to pick out a safe word. Jules, with all his humor, had said “blood, guts, and glory.” 

“What, I’m a vampire now, aren’t I?”

Fearon glared at him. 

So, they decided on glory. Why that word? Neither of them were sure, but it seemed to work well enough. It was a word that seldom passed either of their lips, no matter how counterintuitive the idea of glory as a safe word was.

It hadn’t taken long for that word to pass Jules’ lips, though. Fearon had been thrusting maybe a minute or two before Jules’ face had turned pale and his eyes had glazed over.

Fearon immediately stopped, pulling out. He wasn’t a dominant - he never did aftercare. However, as he looked at Jules, who now had tears in his eyes, he knew what to ask.

“Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?”

Jules wrapped his arms around his legs, tears flowing freely. Guilt swarmed Fearon. What had he done to Jules? 

“I- It’s- I-” Jules forced a breath in his undead lungs. 

Fearon didn’t lay a hand on Jules. He recognized the look in Jules’ eyes. Whether it was the bloodbags he fed from as a mafioso or the people he found himself working with, the straight-laced and unaware seldom found his old line of work. Trauma was all too common. 

And that was the look in Jules’ eyes.

Trauma.

“It’s okay, Jules. I think you’re having a flashback. Do you know who I am?”

“Y-you’re Fearon.” Jules let out a long breath.

“Good. Where are you right now?”

“I’m in our bedroom.” Jules’ voice was faint and shaky, his eyes still distant. 

“Jules,” Fearon looked his love in the eyes, “You’ve already survived whatever you just saw. It’s okay. You’re safe here.”

Jules closed his eyes, but nodded. It was true - nobody could hurt Jules as long as Fearon was around. Even as an ex-mafioso in exile, Fearon was a force to be reckoned with, one that most didn’t dare tempt.

Fearon got up for a moment and grabbed one of Jules’ favorite sweaters. He placed it on Jules’ lap.

“Can you describe your sweater to me? As much detail as you can.”

Jules went on to obediently describe what the sweater was like - its color, its material, its design, his guess at its thread count, even. The way he said it with no humor, no life scared Fearon. Jules hadn’t sounded like that, since, well, he was dying. 

After a little while, the life returned to Jules’ eyes, but the tears didn’t stop. 

Fearon knew that it was best not to pry. To allow silence and his presence do all the speaking. That it was enough to just be there for Jules.

However, Fearon couldn’t help but feel a little bit angry. Not at Jules - never at Jules. Fearon could see the fear, the look Fearon had seen countless times in his time under Galileo, and knew that someone had hurt Jules.

Vengeance was perhaps normal in the mafia. As an underboss, any slight against Fearon was returned tenfold, whether by Fearon or by one of his underlings. Fearon knew it wasn’t healthy. He knew it wasn’t right to be possessive. Yet, looking at Jules, coming down from some trauma, Fearon wanted to kill whoever had hurt Jules.

“Fearon, I can tell you’re angry.”

Jules’ words snapped Fearon out of his thoughts. Maybe he was the one who needed grounding. Going back on the pills to cope with Jules’ cancer meant that now Fearon was feeling that same withdrawal again. What was it? The third or fourth time Fearon had relapsed?

“They’re… old habits, Jules. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Jules laughed, but quickly choked on his tears. “Of course I’m worried. You’re withdrawing again. It makes you have those fucking mood swings-”

“I-I know, Jules.”

They both sighed. Silence filled the air, hanging awkwardly as the two lovers looked away from each other.

“I don’t let people fuck me because-” Jules swallowed, tears in his eyes. “I had a boyfriend who’d force himself on me. It went on for months. My boss- he’s the one who got me away from that fucker.”

Fearon was quiet, a little unsure of the right thing to say. He’d not known many mafiosos who treated their partners well. Fearon had somewhat overlooked it - Galileo and him were on-and-off and of course, Fearon had a never-ending string of boyfriends. He’d always treated them well.

But none of them were like Jules.

Fearon loved Jules. Fearon had never loved any of those guys he’d used to distract himself from his own misery.

“I’m so sorry.”

It was like Jules didn’t hear the words at all. “I was so worried that when I heard you were in the mafia, that you would be like him. That I was falling for another person who would hurt me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Fearon. I’m so scared to lose you. I’m damaged goods.”

To that, Fearon felt every muscle in his body tense. “Jules, you aren’t damaged goods. I love you. I love you no matter what. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, but it feels like it is.”

“Jules,” Fearon swallowed. “I’ve seen a lot of nasty shit in my days. I’ve been fucked by a lot of guys. Why would you be damaged? Because you have trauma? Because someone hurt you? I have trauma. People have hurt me. I’m not damaged goods. You aren’t either. You’re messy, but look at me. I’m a recovering addict, ex-mafioso.”

“There’s so much I’ll never be, Fearon. There are so many things I can’t do.”

“Jules, my dear, there’s so much you can’t see. You don’t value yourself enough. I want to show you all the things about you that are wonderful and amazing and that you should love yourself for. I want to be there for you, through the rough and the smooth.”

Fearon held his arms out. “Is it okay if I hug you, Jules?”

Jules nodded, grasping his arm. Fearon pulled the vampire into a hug, rubbing his back a bit as Jules cried. 

“I don’t deserve you, Fearon.”

“No. You don’t. You deserve more than me. You deserve the world, my dear.”

“But you’re the one I love, Fearon.”

“Then you have me, my dear. You have me forever.”

Jules sobbed harder, but let go of his arm and grabbed Fearon. Fearon just sat there, allowing Jules to cry into his chest, rubbing Jules’ back gently.

“We have all the time in the world, my dear,” Fearon started. “And even if I didn’t have all the time in the world, I would still spend it all with you.”

===

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @whumpsday, @pigeonwhumps, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @darkthingshappen, @honeycollectswhump