#NEVER FEAR the freckles are in another layer i just couldn't help myself

[s0up-arts]

oh he's comin...........

wip!

[eddsworldwritingrequests]

*One of the main 4* (you can choose) is secretly a crossdresser and *another of the main 4* (again, up to you) walks in on them

(IT HAS BEEN A YEAR. I AM SORRY. idk if you'll ever see this fic but if you do i am sorry for how late this is i had like practically abandonded this account but got sudden motivation back so aaaaa

I did Matt (cross-dresser) and Tom (walking in) for this bit and I hope you don't mind but there is a little TomMatt sprinkled in there because I genuinely couldn't help myself. So sorry again for the lateness and I hope you enjoy!)

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Matt gave a bitter laugh at the irony of it all, staring at himself in the mirror.

He didn’t mean for this to be a thing, but eventually it became one and as much as he loved the feeling of being put into a dress, the man just couldn’t help but hear the remarks of his friends playing in his head. The half-hearted insults when they were younger, the sly comments on how he was always just a bit more feminine, a bit more pretty looking, a bit less… manly.

It bothered him, obviously it had when the ginger would burn up at the jabs and start waving his hands around at the accusations. So what if he took care of himself a bit better than the others, so what if he had a better skin care routine, let alone have one at all to begin with. That didn’t make him any less of a man and eventually the others backed off, but god, he was just contradicting himself with this one.

Matt couldn’t help it, though. God, he really really couldn’t when the dress he had on hugged his middle so perfectly, the puffiness of the top and bottom half of his clothes adding on to make it seem like the man had a figure. His waist looked smaller now that this thing was fit snugly on him and the way his arms were actually exposed for once made him flush a little.

He had been doing this frequently, but never will he get over just how dainty he looked without two layers on. With the dress having no sleeves, Matt’s freckled shoulders had never looked smaller. It was moments like these where Matt remembered why he specifically got an overcoat fitted with padded shoulders. Despite being taller than everyone in the house besides Edd, his frame wasn’t exactly wide.

“Christ.” Matt let out a sigh, glancing over his shoulder to the camera pointed towards his bed. As fun as this was, Matt didn’t just dress up for nothing. He usually made videos when his roommates weren’t home, kept up an account with this alter ego of his and managed to scrape up a bit more money than usual when something went well. It was never anything bad, but Matt couldn’t help the embarrassment settle in his stomach when joy flicked in his heart at the sight of his feet slipping into a pair of heels. He just needed the wig and voilà, he’d be all set up.

And, as if cursing Matt for even muttering Christ’s name to himself, he heard the muffled sound of an angry voice. It was enough to shock him, enough for Matt to freeze and pinpoint Tom’s obvious rage being expressed outside the house before the front door clicked open. There was a distant “Fuck you!” before the front door slammed shut and steps were suddenly sounding through the hallway downstairs.

Matt didn’t move. The guys had left presumably a couple minutes ago, but apparently they didn’t drive off yet. Going anywhere with Tom and Tord in a car was hard but it was doable, so the very fact that Tom chose today to opt out last minute on their trip to the outside world was just- just–

It was like a switch had been flipped when Tom called out Matt’s name with a hint of exhaustion. “Matt?! I’m coming up, Tord pissed me off so I’m back.”

The ginger turned his head to the camera, letting out a quiet noise of fear as he rushed over and practically knocked the thing on its side, stand and all. He shoved it under his bed, a little bit of relief filling him until the sound of steps started coming up the stairs. Matt panicked, whipping his head over to the wig that settled on the drawer. He choked, “UHHH, GIVE ME A MINUTE!”

“A minute?” The sound of Tom’s laugh was closer now, the steps not stopping as Matt threw the wig somewhere safe, heels clicking against the floorboard as he stumbled to unbuckle the latch around his ankle. “Come on, man, I’ve walked in on you showering befo–”

And there he stopped. Time stood still, as if a video had been paused and the people on display were stuck in their positions. Tom stood at the doorway, mouth open as he lost his words at the scene in front of him. Matt across the room from him, one hand frozen on the foot that was bent up behind him in an attempt to make the process easier, and the other hand was tugging the colorful earring out of its place on his ear.

They stared at each other, shame very quickly presenting itself in the form of red cheeks on Matt as he was the first to move. He didn’t speak, but a soft noise escaped him, almost a whine as he seemed to give up on the hurry of disrobing himself and instead let his foot fall, the clack of the heel sounding a little too loudly in their silence. The hand on his ear fell, and bright blue eyes just couldn’t seem to lock with the other’s gaze.

He was never going to hear the end of this. He was going to tell the others.

“Wha… uhm,” Tom swallowed his response, going quiet as his eyes took in the heels, the earrings, the dress. God, the dress, where did Matt get a dress from, one that fit him like that? The shortest of the two tried again to speak, actually managing to spit his words out properly. “What, uh– What are you wearing?”

Matt seemed to flare an even darker shade of red at the question, the ball in his throat suffocating him. He couldn’t stop the endless thoughts that rushed through his head, and the fact that Tom was still staring did not make it better.

“I–I just– You weren’t supposed to be home. Yet. For a while.” The ginger swallowed in an attempt to dislodge the barrier that refrained him from speaking, but it didn’t work. His nerves were jumping and the man had to physically stop himself from undressing in his spot from shame. He wanted the dress off already, he’d rather have been caught naked than in this thing if it meant Tom was going to absolutely bash him every day for it. He’d tell Edd and Edd would tell Tord and it was going to be constant harassment even if they meant no harm, Matt was going to be smothered by stupid comments and hurtful–

“Hey, it’s– Matt, I can see you holding your breath.” Tom stepped into the room, watching the other’s gaze whip immediately over at him. “Take a breath, man, it’s fine. It’s… uhm…”

There was more silence, more of Tom’s staring, less of Matt breathing. The ginger teetered in his spot, unsure if he should move. No, the shoes would be more obvious if he had to step all the way over to his bed, there was no way he was moving.

Matt finally let himself breath as Tom spoke again.

“Are… Are you trans?”

“What?” Matt let out a breath through his nose, hands coming to his sides and grabbing the soft fabric of his dress. He shook head, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice as he spoke again. “No, I’m not, I just like the– I like dressing up this way, okay? I just–”

Tom watched the other panic, unsure of what to do as he came more into the room. He stepped over towards the ginger, tilting his head up and finding a little annoyance in himself at how Matt stood even taller now with the extra inches on his shoes. Matt was already taller than him by a bit, but now it was entirely noticeable. Tom huffed before holding himself back, not wanting the other to freak out any more than he was. He didn’t want him to think Tom was weirded out by this, no, he couldn’t be when Matt looked so nice in what he was wearing.

“It’s fine, Matt, you’re– you, uh– you’re fine.” Tom hesitated, gaze dropping a bit as he looked at Matt’s collarbone, down his chest, and then to his waist where the dress gripped his midsection so nicely. It was obvious, not a subtle hint in the way Tom checked him out as he very quickly looked back up. “You look nice, I mean. With the dress on, and– Well, you’re even taller with the shoes so I’m having mixed feelings right now about that, but the dress. I mean, wow, hah.”

Matt blinked, watching Tom avert his gaze again and instead take in the dress. As if he had never seen something like this, as if every snarky bone in his body had left, Tom was over here amazed at Matt’s appearance, commenting on what he liked and making sure Matt was still breathing.

It was something the ginger had never seen before. Not on Tom, at least. The other was moody and the rare times where he actually let himself enjoy the moment, it was never towards someone. He never looked so curious, so intrigued, so drained of malice. None of the comments he made were harsh or teasing like what Matt expected. He didn’t know what to do.

The ginger found himself smiling a bit as one of Tom’s hands came over and lightly poked at the skirt part, feeling the cloth and not pressing down as if he might make Matt freak out again. The man in question only sighed, feeling his nerves settle a bit, but not disappear as he grabbed one of Tom’s hands with his own. Slowly, he pushed Tom’s hand onto the dress so he could feel the puffiness that was underneath.

“There’s, uhm… There’s like two or three layers underneath this part,” he said, voice quiet as Tom’s gaze looked up at him. They locked eyes finally, and for a second, Matt was sure Tom was going to say something. That his lips would turn into a sneer like they usually did and he’d make some comment.

Except, the comment never came. Tom only scrunched his nose up in confusion, looking back down and lifting the bottom of it slightly so he could see the ruffles underneath. Matt pursed his lips, “You, uhm… You think I look okay in it?”

“Okay? You look nice as hell, what are you talking about?” Tom laughed, bringing his hands back to himself. If he noticed the red come back to Matt’s cheeks, then he didn’t mention it as the ginger gave a small nervous hum.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tom laughed again, but it was more quiet this time. He let his voice soften, watching Matt’s fingers come back to the side of the dress and pick at it. “I’m, uh, guessing you do this often?”

Matt hesitated, “Yeah, som– Only sometimes.”

“Right.” Tom lingered in his spot, the quiet slowly creeping back into their conversation. Nothing else needed to be said, nothing that Matt wanted to elaborate on and nothing that Tom wanted to poke at. What had been shown was shown and Tom knew that upon his entrance, they had both just silently agreed to never speak of this to anybody else. Nothing was to be hinted at, nothing to be teased about, nothing more.

Matt shifted again, leaning to the side a bit as his leg came up again. He went on to unbuckle his heel, going slower this time now that there was no rush. His eyes remained on Tom, however, and his voice wavered slightly as he spoke again. “I’m sorry if this is weird. I– we can talk about it later if you– if you want.”

Tom glanced down, if only briefly, at the ginger’s ankle. He nodded slightly until his eyes turned back up to Matt’s freckled face. “Only if you want. I don’t think it’s weird, I’m just a bit…”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, that’s the word.” Tom let his arms swing at his sides a little, teetering back as he realized the conversation was ending. He didn’t want to end it like this, no, so he managed to press together another sentence. Another question. “I’ll let you get changed and, uhm, we can watch a movie? That’s what I was gonna suggest before I… walked in.”

Matt gave a weak smile, his foot finally slipping out of the first shoe. He moved onto the other. Before he could respond to Tom’s suggestion, the other cut him off again, this time without looking at him as he muttered something else.

“Or you could… I mean, you don’t have to, uh… to take the dress off.”

It was quiet, but Matt caught it nonetheless. His cheeks burned with this whole mess of a scenario, but he smiled anyway from Tom’s quiet suggestion. It was from his voice alone that Matt was able to see that Tom had suggested it less for Matt’s own comfort and more for his own want. He genuinely liked seeing the dress on Matt. The ginger had yet to determine how to feel about it.

“Hah, okay then. Just give me a second to put some things away and I’ll be downstairs in a minute. Yeah?”

Tom nodded, not looking up at him anymore. He slowly backed up before finally turning completely and hurriedly taking himself down the steps. Tom’s shoes thunked against the wood before disappearing down the hall, and it was with him gone that Matt finally gave himself the chance to breathe.

That whole interaction was awkward, out of the ordinary. Matt didn’t feel any more pressure with the thought of Tom knowing about this side of him, but it wasn’t exactly settling. He let the other heel slip off with a thunk now that it was unlatched and pressed his backside into the drawer he stood by. Leaning onto his dresser, Matt inhaled deeply. That was nerve wracking, the whole situation made him want to die, but it could’ve turned out worse. For now, Matt was grateful.

Tom didn’t react the way he thought he would. The fact that he even came closer to inspect him was surprising, especially with how he entered. Matt didn’t think he’d even ask questions at all.

The compliment directed at him earlier floated back to Matt’s mind, the mutter of “You look nice,” was enough to get the ginger’s brain scattered once again. Fanning himself with one hand, Matt picked up his shoes with the other and threw them in his closet. He could keep the dress on for now.

With a few simple breaths to keep himself from smiling anymore and a minute of adjusting, Matt headed downstairs. It was movie time with his friend.

[rentsturner]

Deeper than the surface | Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

summary: Obi-Wan is injured in battle and is too stubborn to be treated. However, it seems the extent of his pain is much more than superficial (Medic!reader)

warnings: descriptions of injury, mentions of death, angst but eventual fluff, mutual pining.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this is my first proper fic, so please tell me what you think! thanks to @ewanfuckinmcgregor , @afogocado , @doublesunsets for the tips! And of course @labyrinth-runner for giving me the great title :D  Enjoy!

The atmosphere in the medbay was tense as you prepared for the arrival of the 212th back from Jakku, a relatively isolated planet in the Western Reaches. An urgent comlink message only minutes ago had alerted you and your doctors of the incoming troops, many severely wounded from a small skirmish with the separatists gone wrong. Despite your best efforts to concentrate on organising supplies, there was a nagging worry in the back of your head. Thoughts of General Kenobi clouded your mind. Was he injured? Your stomach dropped as an image of Obi-Wan, the man who meant so much to you, bleeding and motionless on the dusty ground flashed through your head. No.

“He will be fine,” you told yourself in an attempt to calm your raging emotions. “He always is.”

The ship docked in and the clones began to file slowly down the ramp, some carrying stretchers with lifeless bodies resting on them. Many were obviously injured and clung onto each other as they staggered towards the medbay. Cody jogged past with a nasty gash on his arm but you still hadn’t caught sight of that brown jedi cloak you had grown to love so much. 

Obi-Wan had been one of your closest friends for years now, but it was only recently that you had started to notice new developments in your relationship. The faint brush of his hand next to yours when you walked together that made your skin tingle, embraces that would last a few seconds too long to count as friendly. There were the times when Obi would come to visit you working in the medbay after his missions, his bright eyes lingering on you as you carried out your tasks, a longing there that would make your heart race. But you could never admit your feelings to him, a fear of rejection and the loss of your friendship constantly at the forefront of your mind. Not to mention Obi’s clear view that the Jedi code was the most important thing in his life. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder sometimes whether it was possible that your feelings were reciprocated.

You were quietly tending to a broken arm when a recognisable Coruscanti accent echoed through the room. Your head whipped around. Obi-Wan stood solemnly talking to some of the other medics. You quickly finished up on the bandaging and headed over to them

“Please make sure all of my men are looked at first. It was an ambush, we were completely outnumbered,” he rubbed his beard in thought, brows furrowed. You knew Obi, and you knew that he would be overthinking every single one of his decisions made over the last few hours, trying to find the mistake that led to this bloodbath. You knew that he would certainly overlook all of his injuries to make sure his battalion was looked after first. 

“Obi, are you injured?” you asked gently, looking into his cerulean eyes for any signs of pain.

He turned away quickly.

“I’m perfectly fine, nothing I can’t deal with myself,” he muttered hastily, “besides I have to report to the council and explain this mess.” 

He sighed and rubbed a dirty hand over his face again, the stress evident in the creases lining his forehead. As he started to head towards the door, you quickly grabbed his arm, emotions getting the better of you. He winced in pain and you could feel the fabric covering his forearm was damp. Looking down you saw the material was stained a deep red and a jolt of fear ran through you. 

“Obi, you are not ok. Let me treat you,” you whispered to him, trying not to attract too much attention in the hope that it would encourage him to open up.

“Please, I told you I’m fine, it’s just a scratch. I need to go.” 

He moved to leave once again but you still had a hold on his arm. You didn’t want to cause him anymore pain, but you could tell he was hiding some serious wounds.

“No. The council can wait,”  you shook your head at him and grabbed his hand in yours. “You won’t be any use to them if you bleed out on the temple floor, will you?”

He avoided your gaze again, his fingers brushing over your knuckles agitatedly.

“If you don’t want me to treat you here, that’s fine, but at least let me bring some supplies to your quarters and fix you up there. No one will notice you’re gone, I promise.”

His gaze finally met yours and you saw a small flicker of pain flash there as he finally gave in. 

“Fine,” his head dropped in defeat and his hand squeezed yours. “Follow me.” 

Quickly grabbing some bacta spray and wipes, you trailed after Obi. You knew the way to his chambers well, having spent many evenings there with him, talking and laughing as friends do. 

Obi was limping slightly as he walked ahead of you, noticeably favouring his right leg. You’d have to remember to take a look at it once you got him settled.

“Right, go and sit on the bed and start taking your robes off,” you told Obi once you were inside.

“Yes, ma’am” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. You heard rustling from the bedroom as you went to find a washcloth and a suture kit that you knew Obi kept in his cabinet. You were definitely going to need them.

Walking back into the main quarters, you saw Obi hunched on the end of bed, slowly peeling off his many layers of robes and tunic. As you approached you could hear him softly whimpering in discomfort and your heart broke at the sight of the man you loved in pain. 

“Here, let me help.”

As each stained fabric was gently removed, the full extent of Obi’s injuries were revealed, as well as his toned chest, adorned with a smattering of faint freckles and auburn hair. You tried not to imagine running your hand across his broad shoulders and down his torso, instead focusing on the crimson gash that arched over his hip and ended just under his right pec. The edges were cauterised - a lightsaber wound?

“Ah yes, I may have had a run in with General Grievous,” Obi explained, twitching a little as you traced the wound lightly with your finger. 

“You’re lucky it’s not too deep.” Dabbing at the gash, you gently cleaned it and then dressed it with some bacta pads. While you were working, Obi would occasionally squirm under your touch as your hands flitted over his soft skin. The tender touches you gave him sent adrenaline running through his veins, a new feeling of content filling his head like some kind of intoxicating high.

A few hours later and you had managed to patch up most of Obi’s wounds, including a jagged, red graze on his upper thigh from a blaster. He had been particularly sensitive about that one.

“Oh, oh no, don’t worry, you can leave that one, I’ll sort it myself,” he had stammered out, fumbling with his cloak in an attempt to cover up the damage. But you had refused, practically begging him to let you soothe the angry gouge marring his pale skin. He had no choice but to accept - you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Obi’s taut muscles had shuddered slightly as you treated his leg, his teeth gritting together, eyes squeezed shut, fists clenched. A quiet groan had escaped his lips, but it wasn't from the pain. No, that didn't bother him too much. It was the feeling of your hands, soft, gentle hands, caressing his bruised skin, skin that hadn’t been touched by anyone for years.The sensation was just too much. Obi’s mind was running wild but he knew he couldn’t indulge himself for long. You were his friend. He didn’t want to destroy that, and of course, there was the code to think of. 

Still, there was that temptation worming itself into the back of his mind. Why was attachment forbidden? The code was stupid, irrelevant even. His love for you was surely more important than anything else in the world. He needed you.

But he was Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi Master. He couldn't think like that. He just couldn't. 

His battered body now covered with bacta patches and bandages, Obi was finally ready to rest.You propped up some pillows behind his head and tugged the sheets carefully over his chest, but he was still so tense. Taking a deep breath, you perched on the side of the bed, leaning slightly on Obi’s uninjured thigh.

“You have to stop getting into messes like this, Obi,” you chastised him gently. 

“It’s my job, I’m a Jedi. It’s my job to protect people, you know that.” He looked up at you, a glimmer of sadness in his usually bright eyes.

“Of course I do, Obi, I just can’t bear to see you like this. And what if it had been worse?” You pushed those thoughts of a motionless Obi back out of your head, your hands gripping tightly on the soft sheets beneath you.

“I’ve had worse. I was fine then and I’m fine now,” Obi looked down, his fingers fiddling together nervously. “I just...people have died because I couldn't protect them. I can’t let that happen again.”

You sighed, knowing exactly what was haunting Obi’s mind, an event that he would never forget. 

“You still blame yourself for Qui-Gon’s death, don’t you?” You reached towards his hand in an attempt to calm him, but he flinched slightly and pulled away. His eyes were glazed over with unshed tears. 

“Of course, I do!” his voice was raised slightly, frustration apparent. “He died because I wasn't there. I could have helped him. I could have saved him,” Obi’s chest shuddered as he pulled in a shaky breath. “But I wasn’t fast enough. I wasn’t there.”

“But you avenged him. You trained Anakin, just like he wanted.”

“But that’s just it. What if I let Anakin down too? I have to protect him. I can’t afford to make any more mistakes.” Obi took another deep breath before murmuring quietly, “Better off me hurt than him.”

Your heart was breaking again. Your Obi-Wan, a strong soldier and leader, whimpering softly with tears rolling slowly down his cheeks, racked by guilt and regret. He reminded you of a child, alone and helpless, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. You reached up a hand again, moving slowly so not to startle him, gently caressing his face and using the pad of your thumb to brush away a single tear.

“You can’t be there all the time, Obi. It’s just not possible. And sometimes you need to allow someone to look after you too.”

His chest shuddered again, but you felt him lean into your touch.

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes, even though it felt like hours, enjoying the feeling of each other’s skin. Obi’s breathing slowly returned to normal and, though his eyes were still red, the tears were no longer streaking down his face.

Suddenly, his hand twitched and his gaze bored into you. There was a flash of something in his azure eyes, a spark of desire, like a flip had been switched inside his head and suddenly his lips were on yours. 

You gasped, a mix of confusion and delight flickering through your body. You had dreamt of this for so long and now it was finally happening. His mouth was soft on yours, a deep contrast to his trembling hand that had moved to clutch desperately at your robes, pulling you closer. His nose nudged against your cheek and you could feel his eyelashes fluttering delicately across your skin.  Pushing a hand through his auburn hair, you tugged on the strands softly. A groan left Obi’s lips before he quickly pulled away. You almost whined at the loss of contact. 

But the switch had flipped back again. Obi seemed intent on inspecting his hands, mouth opening and closing quickly before he could bring himself to speak. Eventually, he managed to stammer out a few words.

“I’m so sorry, I -”

“Don’t apologise, please. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that.” A faint blush began to spread across your cheeks, but you looked up to see a similar redness upon Obi’s pale skin. It still hadn’t sunk in. The man you loved had kissed you. 

Obi reached out and slowly took your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips before placing a chaste kiss on your fingertips. 

“Please stay with me tonight,” he whispered, rubbing his thumb slowly over your knuckles. “I don’t want to be alone. Please, just this time.”

You nodded, your eyes met his and you saw the quiet sadness there, a sadness that would probably stay with him for the rest of his life as he grieved for the ones he had lost. But maybe you could ease his pain, if only a little. 

“Of course I will.”

Your bloodied uniform was dumped in a pile with his discarded robes. The sheets were so smooth against your bare skin and you made sure to avoid Obi-Wan’s wounds as you curled into his chest, resting your head over his beating heart. An arm snaked around your shoulder as Obi pulled you even closer to him, like he was trying to meld your two bodies together, every plane fitting together perfectly like a puzzle. 

His chest rumbled beneath you as he spoke. 

“If we do this, no one can know,” he stammered, unsure what your reaction would be. “My job. I can’t, it’s just -”

“Obi, it’s okay.” you stroked his chest, just as you had dreamed of doing only hours ago, attempting to alleviate his fears. “It’s okay, I understand. You know that”

He nodded softly before easing you both onto your sides, one arm under your head and the other curled protectively over your stomach. He would never stop protecting the people he loved, you knew that. So you had to protect him too.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you felt hot tears spilling onto your skin as Obi allowed his emotions to come to the surface once again. But this time relief filled him, the sensation of your skin pressed tightly against his providing a comfort he’d never experienced. This was the feeling he had been craving ever since he saw you, just a newly qualified medic finding your way around the Jedi temple. Now he finally had you and he wasn’t ever going to let you go.

You knew sleep had taken Obi when his breaths on your shoulder became regular and the tears on the back of your neck began to dry. There may be forthcoming hardships for both of you, but you would overcome them together, and maybe Obi could finally forgive himself for his mistakes. Dozing off contentedly in the warmth of Obi-Wan’s embrace, you were at peace.

@corellians-only​