we only got hit with most of our “backstory” about our family tree before we got adopted from our birthmom yesterday(?) and it’s definitely a lot to take in for all of us collectively lol.. adoption trauma is a whole different level forreal
A/N: Hey everyone! It's been a little while but I hope that you enjoy this fic! It was kind of therapeutic for me and I'm hoping to keep writing now that I have kind of dug myself out of the slump I've been in for a while. Thank you all for your ongoing support and I hope to have something new out for you guys again soon! Enjoy! The reader is gender neutral. Also a big thank you to @captainrexisboo for beta reading this for me!
Length: ~1300 words
Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, some self hate/insecurities about appearance and the self in general
You had been standing in the bathroom long after you finished getting ready for bed, just staring at yourself in the mirror. It had just been business as usual, doing your routine after a long day of work and fun out on the town with your beloved Commander when something caught your eye.
It was always that something. The thing that you thought about and wished would go away. The thing that stuck out like a sore thumb, reminding you just how imperfect you were.
Yeah. You didn’t look like everyone else. You were not what everyone seemed to find desirable, and you knew it. You knew it and you hated it. You hated that part of yourself that would never make you worth the love that you so desperately craved.
And it always started with that part of you. The marathon of self-hate that you would give yourself, seeking out everything that was wrong with you and everything that made you unworthy of any kind of affection. It made you so tired, made you so worried that one day, Cody would realize just how ugly you were.
You had never known what made him seek you out. You were too shy to ask and were almost scared to, thinking that if you had him think about it too much, he would realize just how imperfect you were. But right here, right now, you needed to know. You were having such a hurricane of thoughts running through your mind that you could not stop yourself from asking.
The fresher door opened with a hiss, and you looked out from where you stood in the doorway to see him sat up against the head of the bed, scrolling on a data pad to no doubt finish a few reports before bed. It calmed you a bit to see how at peace he was. His face still carried a bit of its telltale tension, but he was still relaxed, obviously comfortable in the pajamas you had gifted him and relaxed at how safe your apartment made him feel.
“Cody?” You asked, your voice barley above a whisper.
He immediately looked up at you. He always does when you call for him, giving you his full attention like he didn’t want to miss a single moment of taking you in. His brow furrowed, obviously sensing the uneasiness in your voice and the rigidness of your posture. “Cyare?” He asked. “What is it?”
He set the data pad aside, swinging his legs off the bed and immediately crossing over to you.
You were holding yourself, brushing your thumbs in arcs against your arm as you avoided his eye. That was enough to tell him that something big was bothering you, so he did not yet reach out for you, not wanting to invade your space and make it worse.
The two of you stood in silence for what felt like forever, him giving you the time that you needed to tell him whatever you wanted to, and you working up the courage to actually ask him the question that had been plaguing your mind. Finally, you turned your eyes towards his face, locking onto his own concerned stare with tears threatening to spill forth from you at any moment.
“Do… Do you think I’m beautiful?”
Cody actually reeled back, taking a few seconds to process what he had just heard. “Cyare…” He said, his voice sounding sad as he finally reached out for you, gently taking your hands in his. “Why would you ask that? How could I not think that you are beautiful?”
Despite your efforts, a tear slipped down your face, making you follow its path towards the floor with your face, not wanting to see the look in Cody’s eyes. “Because… I’m not perfect. I’m not beautiful. I’m… just me. I have scars and am not what I’m supposed to be. I don’t look like what is expected of me.”
Cody was silent for a moment, just looking at you with eyes full of hurt as he watched you talk so harshly about yourself. “Mesh’la,” he said quietly, tucking a knuckle under your chin to lift your face to his. “Look at me,” he softly demanded.
You obeyed, your lip quivering as he stepped closer to you.
“You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful person I have ever laid eyes upon.” He leaned forward, kissing your forehead as he pulled you into an embrace.
“But…” you whispered, “But I’m not perfect.”
He pulled back from you, gently leading you both to sit on the edge of the bed. “My love. No one is perfect.”
“You are,” you sniffled, reaching to wipe the tears as they still fell from your eyes. “You were made to be perfect.”
A small smile quirked up on Cody’s lips as he tilted your face to his yet again, brushing his thumb against the back of your hand to soothe you. “No, I’m not,” he said playfully. “I’m just some bastard who was lucky enough to get put in charge. I mean, look,” he said as he turned his head to the side, showing you his scar. “If I was perfect, I wouldn’t have this. And I would like those kriffing awful stuff they dare to call food back on base. There are so many things that make me imperfect, but that is what makes me… well… me. And all of those imperfections you see in yourself are why I love you.”
He scooted closer to you, pulling you to his side and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He leaned in, placing a kiss just above your ear before pulling back to whisper in it. “Tell me what you see wrong with yourself, mesh’la, and I’ll tell you just how much I love that about you.”
You hesitated for a moment, but finally relented, trusting that Cody would not let you fall further into the pit of despair you were already in. You began telling him everything. How you didn’t like your build, your scars and how you did not look like what you were expected to look like. How you hated certain things about yourself because of something someone had said years ago but that you never forgot.
With each word you uttered, each thing you pointed out about yourself that you did not like, Cody would press a delicate kiss to your body, working his way around you to reach every bit of yourself that you did not love, and giving it his. He worked his fingers into your neck, massaging the tensed muscles there until you melted back into him, resting against his chest as he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.
“Your imperfections are what make you perfect to me, cyare. No one else is like you and no one else ever could be. Just like you accept all of my imperfections, like how I stumble on that trick step every time I come over and you giggle, or how I accidentally scared that little girl across the hall when I tried to share those sweets we got at the market, or how I can’t bake. You love me for all of those things, don’t you?”
You nodded, your heart warming as you thought over everything he had said about himself. Those things made him Cody. They are what made him the man you love. “You’re a blanket hog too,” you giggled, turning a bit to face him. “But,” you leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, “your cooking skills make up for that.”
He smiled at you, returning the bit of affection with a kiss to the tip of your nose. “If you can love all those things about me, then I am more than happy to love all the things about you that you don’t. I’ll show you how you look through my eyes if it kills me. Because you are perfect.” He kissed you again, barely pulling away as he felt you smile. “You are perfect,” he whispered. “And you are mine until the end of the universe. My perfect, beautiful, cyare.”
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