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kylowritten · 1 year

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Close Quarters

Pairings: Matt the Radar Technician x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: You love working with your childhood best friend, it’s one of the perks of your job. But dynamics shift between you as a tricky assignment forces you into close quarters.

Warnings: slight size insecurities, partial nudity, kissing

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: This request is for @judypahtootee ! I hope you enjoy😊 It’s the first time I’ve written for Matt so let me know what you think, hopefully my interpretation of him is what you’re looking for.

Your POV

"Oh. Um — wow."

"Yeah, I know," you say, self consciously running your hands over your uniform. "This was the last one they had left. Apparently one size fits all does not mean what you think."

Matt stands in the corridor, looking dumbfounded. His glasses adorably slide down his nose, and he pushes them back up, the slightest hint of a blush covering his face. Your stomach ties into a knot. He's probably embarrassed that he has to be seen with me like this, you think. Admittedly, you've been in worse scenarios together, but none of them have involved you in a fluorescent orange uniform clinging to every part of your body.

You quickly inform him, "It's just for the day, though. The new sizes come in tomorrow."

“Oh. Good,” Matt replies, averting his eyes.

A tiny part of you winces. Your socially inept friend since childhood has never been good with words, and you know that he doesn’t mean any harm, but you can’t help but feel wounded. Quickly, you push the thought from your mind — you have a job to do, and you won’t let your insecurities get in the way of that.

“So what are we looking at?” You ask, as the two of you start down the corridor. It takes you twice as many steps to fill Matt’s lengthy ones.

“The radar array is down in the second quadrant,” Matt tells you, all business. “We need to repair the damage and then recalibrate it to ensure that it’s functioning at optimal levels.”

You nod. Nothing out of the ordinary, then.

Especially when the Surpreme Leader, Kylo Ren, had a conniption fit every time something didn’t go his way, and you were called to fix it. The damage looks the same as always — electric wires sprouted from the walls, spitting out sparks, and long, charred marks sliced through equipment like the strokes of a clawed beast. A shiver jolts through you; you never want to be on the wrong end of a lightsaber.

“Hm. Weird.”

You shake your head little. Matt has already walked into the room where the radar array is stationed, and he bends down slightly to inspect a panel on the far wall. You join him, saying, “What’s weird?”

“It’s almost as if the internal mechanisms have malfunctioned,” he mutters.

You start to protest as he slips a gloved hand behind the panel, but it falls on deaf ears as he then completely (and effortlessly) rips the panel from the wall. A shower of sparks washes over you, and you cry out in surprise. When you’re feeling brave enough to open your eyes again — ready to face whatever marring you got — you realize that Matt had used his body to shield you from most of the affects, and now your faces were precariously close.

“Oh,” you breathe, unable to help yourself.

You’ve always liked Matt. You’ve never said it aloud, of course, out of fear of ruining your friendship. He probably wouldn’t return the feelings anyway. The proximity of him initiates a fleet of TIE fighters inside of you, all taking off at once and blasting from your stomach to your chest, where they lodge in your throat and prevent you from saying anything even halfway comprehensible. You stammer.

“Are you okay?” Matt asks. His impossibly dark eyes comb over your form, lingering in the places where your illfitting uniform clings.

You intake a ragged breathe. “Fine,” you tell him. Embarrassed, you turn away from him, unable to meet his intense gaze. You clear your throat. “So what’s wrong with this thing?”

His gaze lingers on you, but you refuse to acknowledge it. After a moment, he turns, and addresses the now-missing panel; there’s a portion of the wall revealed, and behind it, a whole mess of blinking technology.

“We’ll have to fix the internal mechanisms before we can move on, or else it will all be for nothing,” he says. Matt shakes his head in disbelief.

He takes a step towards the floor to ceiling section that’s missing, but almost immediately his broad shoulders get stuck. Matt laughs, albeit nervously, and tries again, this time from the side. He makes it a little bit further this time but inevitably gets wedged between the two walls.

He holds out an arm that you yank until he’s finally free. You smile as he dusts himself off. It’s no wonder he couldn’t fit — Matt had been practically enormous since he was fifteen. The smile, and your amusement, disappears when you realize that you’ll have to squeeze.

“Oh no,” you say. “No way.”

Matt frowns. “You have to, or else we can’t repair the arrays. You know if we don’t complete this that we could potentially lose our jobs.”

You want to shoot back, “then we can get new ones,” but you’re both aware that the First Order pays ridiculously well compared to any other jobs. Neither of you can afford to lose them. Plus, you genuinely love being a radar technician and getting to work on some of the most advanced ships in the entire galaxy.

“Fine. But how do I know what to do?”

Matt replies, “I’ll tell you while you’re in there, just describe it to me. It should be simple.”

Summoning your courage, you turn sideways and slide into the missing section. You barely fit, but manage to squeeze through, relief crashing into you. The narrow section opens into a room. No smaller than a storage closet, there’s just enough space for you to turn around comfortably in.

Buttons and levers and blinking panels all stare at you.

You hear Matt’s voice, muffled slightly, “Are you okay? Do you need me —”

“I’m fine,” you tell him. You give him a quick description of what you see. “Where do I start?”

“On your left there should be a series of green buttons. Press the first one, then release the lever directly above it, that should open up a small valve behind you.”

You follow his instructions. The lever responds willingly to your touch, and then somewhere from behind you hear the familiar clink of metal hitting metal and the valve opening. Your heart soars triumphantly. “Matt, I did it! I —”

Spinning to locate the valve, there’s a ripping noise and a burst of pain as a previously unseen bolt catches your uniform and pierces your skin. You curse. Not only does it hurt like a bitch, but your uniform is stuck, keeping you from making the full turn to the valve.

Matt calls your name. “Did you adjust the valve?”

“Um, no,” you confess. “Not yet. Hold on.”

You’re desperately clawing at your back. You don’t want Matt to know what’s happened, but you can’t seem to find the bolt that’s snagged you. Your fingers scramble to loosen the piece of uniform that’s stuck, but the material refuses to part from your skin.

“What’s wrong in there?” Matt asks.

“Nothing, nothing!”

It strikes you that the only way to free yourself is to remove your top and disentangle yourself from it and the pesky bolt. You grab the bottom of your tip and lift afterward. It easily rises.

Until you pull it up and over your face.

Dread opens inside you.

The uniform is too tight to remove, and it doesn’t budge no matter how much effort it takes to pull it the remaining way off your head. You slump in defeat. Now not only are you stuck, but your whole stomach and breasts are exposed, arms stuck above your head. Luckily you’re wearing your cutest bra, but it doesn’t necessarily help the situation you’re in.

You can’t see with the material over your eyes. Huffing, you say, “Okay, I lied. There’s a problem.”

“A problem?” Matt echoes. “Are you hurt? Is everything okay?”

“I’m not hurt,” you say. Well, maybe my pride. “But, um, I’m stuck.”

“Stuck? Like on what to do next?”

Your face screws up into an expression of frustrated disbelief. “No. Um, my…my uniform got stuck on a bolt or something in here. I-I thought that just taking off my top might help but it’s so fucking tight that now I’m…stuck.”

A few moments of silence. “Are you…naked?”

“Partially?” You remark. You describe how you’re still wearing pants, thank you very much, and a bra, but your shirt is over your head. You take a deep breath. Now for the part that you wish you didn’t have to say. “I…I need you to come in here and help me.”

“What?”

“I know you can’t fit, but —”

“No, no, if you need my help then I’m coming.”

You hear him try to squeeze through the opening, grunting and cursing as he goes. He draws closer, based on the volume of his grunting and cursing, and you quickly demand, “Close your eyes! I don’t want you to see.”

“Okay. Okay.” Matt’s presence warms the space, and he can barely fit inside it with you.

A heat pools between your legs. He smells incredible, the scent flooding your senses, and his hands falter as he tries to gauge the scene with his eyes closed.

Matt’s POV

Your skin rushes beneath his fingers, soft and sweet smelling. He doesn’t mean to touch your bare stomach but he doesn’t exactly know what’s going on, or where he even is. He keeps bumping his elbows and knees against the walls.

Slowly, Matt cracks open one eye. Then another.

The top of your uniform is indeed wrenched over your head, blocking your vision. Matt’s throat bobs. His eyes hurry to take you all in, greedy, as if at any moment the sight would be taken away from him. The pants of the uniform cling to your hips and thighs, sinfully tight. He hungrily studies the soft curve of your belly, your sides, and — Oh, Stars — the tops of your breast.

The closeness of the space has them so close, basically begging him to put his mouth on them.

Before he forgets what he was sent here to do, Matt unhooks the material from the bolt, then gets to work on your top. There’s no way for him to help without touching you, and each touch drives him wild. He angles his hips so you can’t feel the hardening in his pants.

He brushes over your breasts, the delicious dip of your collar, beneath your arms — and he’s gripped with the urge to touch you everywhere and all at once. Matt clears his throat. No. You’re his friend! And you’re obviously in a vulnerable situation, it’s inappropriate to be thinking this way. Not that he hasn’t before.

Matt finally promots the shirt over your chin, and with just one more tug, you’ll be mostly free.

He stares at your lips, parted in anticipation.

Matt doesn’t kiss you, however, no matter how much he wants to. His gaze lingers there, imagining what they would feel like, and then he closes his eyes and lifts the shirt over your eyes.

Your POV

“Oh, thank Stars,” you breathe. Your eyes pop open. Matt’s remain closed as he tugs the shirt up, and you help him disentangle it from your arms.

Matt’s hulking presence consumes most of the space. You’re pressed together, basically, and at this height you’re given a perfect view of his mouth and his plush lips.

You lean forward, then stop. What were you doing? Matt would never reciprocate your feelings and you can’t kiss him, now matter how delectable his lips looked and how desperately you wanted to feel them on yours. You pull back.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

He nods. “Anytime.”

Matt’s throat bobs, and you’re transfixed by the sight. Stars, why did he have to be so damn beautiful? And why was he so close?

He nervously asks, “Now what?”

“I-I suppose you can open your eyes. I’m not sure how else we’re going to leave.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah,” you say. In a feeble attempt to cover yourself, your cross your arms over your chest. It only pushes your breasts up further, though — you’ve always been cursed with a big chest — but it’s better than nothing. “Go ahead.”

Matt opens his eyes. There’s no way you miss out on the way he looks you over, like a starving man wanting to consume what’s in front of him.

His mouth parts.

“I know,” you quickly say, filling in the awkward silence. “I’m sorry you have to see me —”

“Sorry?” One of Matt’s brows disappears nearly into his hairline. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” His gaze dances away momentarily but darts back as if it can’t stay away. “If anyone needs to apologize, it’s me.”

“What? Why?” He backs out of the space first and you follow, shoving him from behind.

Matt bursts from the paneling and then offers you a hand. You take it, but as he pulls you out, you end up only inches from each other.

Matt takes a deep breath. “Because I…because I looked.”

“Oh. Oh,” you say.

Your cheeks burn from a blush.

“I’m sorry, I just —”

“Well it’s not any different from right now,” you remind him. You’re still overwhelmingly undressed compared to him. Your words prompt him to examine you again, but then he quickly looks away.

“I know but…you were trusting me. And I didn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me before,” you tease him. “I just went from the ugly, chubby kid to the ugly, chubby adult and —”

“What?” Matt frowns. “Who said that you were ugly?”

“Well, no one has to spell it out for me,” you reply. Your voice wavers, although you wished that it wouldn’t.

Matt shakes his head. “I don’t know where you got that idea. You’re…you’re beautiful. So beautiful. I’ve always thought that, even as kids,” he adds, and this time it’s his turn to blush.

“Don’t lie,” you say.

“I’m not lying,” he replies.

A serious expression settles on his handsome features. He steps toward you, propelling you back. Your spine collides with the wall, but he keeps getting closer, trapping you. Nearly all sense of control flies out the window as he traces a finger over your cheek, down your throat, and between your breasts. The finger trails over your belly, then hooks into the front of your pants. He jerks his hand back, effectively pulling you into him so that your hips slam into each other.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles. One hand rests on your back, the other slipping behind your head. “In there, I-I couldn’t help myself. I had to look at you, to devour you. I didn’t know if I would ever get the chance to again.“

Your breath tears from your throat. His mouth is there, just hovering over yours, and his hands hold you dangerously close.

“Well,” you say, with a bravery you didn’t know you had, “what are you going to do about it?”

That’s all the prompting he needs.

Matt shoves you up against the wall again, his hand on your back cushioning the blow. Finally his lips capture yours, but the kiss is anything but delicate — his lips punish yours, rough and demanding, tongue darting out to lick your bottom lip before seeking invitation. Your mouth parts eagerly, and he continues to kiss you with the same determined passion, years and years of suppressed feelings unraveling in moments.

You can’t believe this is happening. Your hands explore him, the familiar terrain of his body now roped with muscle.

Eventually you both withdraw for a breath. “I love you,” he mutters, head still bent near yours.

“I love you,” you reply, grabbing the front of his vest. “I always have. And I always will.”

You’re not sure how long you kiss before it dawns on you that you probably need to finish repairing the damage before a supervisor comes along. Matt removes his shirt to give it to you, and you wear it gratefully. Appreciatively, you watch the muscles in his back as he works, connecting the series of freckles and moles there with your gaze.

When he’s finished replacing the panel, you both set to repairing the damage and then recalibrating the arrays. Matt smirks, and glances at you. “Does this mean that when we work together now that we’ll always be shirtless?”

#matt the radar technician #star wars #matt the radar technician x reader #x reader #oneshot #request #close quarters #fanfic #star wars fanfiction #plus size reader #writing #writing on tumblr #reader insert

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rejaytionships · 3 months

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they're literally so cute together. aro icons @roboticromantic

#I HAVE BEEN MEANING TO DRAW YOUR SONA FOR-FUCKING-EEEEEEVER #the closest i got before now was a doodle of dusty in my notebook last quarter LMFAO #i hope it looks okay!!!#roboticromantic #wish dust #jay's jots #selfship #self ship art #self ship community #self insert #self insert community

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mitchmotch · 1 year

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I'm so interested in your Anastasia au! will you tell us more?

yes of course i will! @revalito and i are genuinely so elated that so many people like the au HEHJKSDHJKS i will always want to talk about it trust

i don't know if there was something specific you wanted me to talk about, so i'll just talk about their time in the cloud recesses when they were younger =]

as i said before in my tags, wwx found lwj sitting outside the gentian cottage waiting for his mom and that's how they first met--he brought him a blanket and something warm to drink and offered to sit next to him. after that wwx would find lwj every now and then and hang around a bit but not for long. that does.. imply that his parents died sooner but well. HEJDSJKSD we figured one of the servants was his dad's close friend that agreed to babysit wwx for a while before they died, so now at least wwx has someone that was considered family (and that can tell him about his parents)

wwx didn't actually start working as a servant until he got older and that's when he was really allowed to interact with lwj. silly little comments turned into prompts to speak more and eventually, they'd have "conversations" (lwj would listen, wwx would talk) as wwx did what he had to. one day lwj asked wwx if he would be allowed to be a personal assistant on a quick task he had to do outside of the cloud recesses, and of course that's allowed. and that's the loophole they found to spend more time together =]

lxc knows about lwj's crush. he could read it on him easily HEJKSDJK i'd like to think one time wwx was called in to serve something to them, and as he did he made some comment to lwj. lwj acknowledged him with a small uptick of his lips and lxc was just ⁉️⁉️⁉️ HEHKJDHJKDHDJK he starts making excuses for wwx to go see lwj. the first time he asks a servant to call for wwx bc he needed something delivered to his brother it started a rumor within the servants immediately. this is where the teasing among them began HEHJKSDJKSDK lxc is the main reason why eventually wwx is the main servant/one of the only servants for lwj

wwx starts learning about cultivation in his free time--and we'd like to think the gusulan sect would set aside a teacher for willing servants on their breaks--but he never attends any actual classes. it isn't until they accept guest disciples when they're around 15/16 that he even entertains the idea. he probably makes a side comment to lwj, like "ah, guest disciples… it would have been nice to attend a class or two.." and lwj is immediately like i'm on it. he talks to lqr to attend the classes and ofc here lan qiren doesn't Need lwj to be a good example to wwx like he does in the novel, but we think lqr would still want to show him off HEHJKSJKSD also, lxc is probably like "it would be nice if wangji had more friends =] perhaps if we have wwx in there (someone he is already comfortable with) he would be more willing?" and that seals the deal HEJKSDHJKSD wwx is invited to his classes to be a "personal servant" to keep up appearances, but he is there to learn.

of course some other people there aren't to keen on the idea of having a servant in the class with them, so this time when lqr calls on wwx, it's not to test him, it's to prove his worth. he knows wwx and lwj are friends so in his head, his justification is that disciples are offending wwx -> they're offending lwj -> lwj is his nephew -> they are offending lqr too. ofc. HEHJKDSJKSDK lwj defends wwx in his own ways.

nie huaisang is the first to go up to wwx to chat and they become good friends, and since wwx is friends with lwj, nhs becomes friends with him too. it's a funny dynamic but lwj inwardly thinks it's nice.

thank you sm for asking! <3

#ask #ender-manly #mdzs #anastasia au #wangxian #sorry about the delay! i am in the midst of finals HEHJKDSJKSD one more to go tho! WOOO #also hades (revalito) has their asks open if anyone would like to ask about the fic or just see his comments on the au too =]#aight now onto some extras for those w the patience to read my tags HEHKJSHJKS they Absolutely have really cute moments in this time #like one time wwx got sick so he couldn't serve lwj and around lunchtime lwj was finally like 'hey wheres wei ying?' and the servant was #like 'he's sick. but yknow.. even tho the servant quarters are on the other side of the cloud recesses its still in the same place' so that #night lwj goes to visit wwx. everyone is like omg second young master? and he's like um.. can i see wei ying please?#they take him to wwx's room and wwx is So embarrassed bc he just knows he looks as sick as he feels but lwj is just worried about him #also another time when they're outside of the cloud recesses wwx is walking and talking not looking where he's going. he trips off a small #cliff. lwj catches him ofc thats how he is and wwx is like 'hehehe :)c lwj guess what?' 'mn?' 'i Fell for you ;D'#now theyre both blushing. theyre so cute. cant fucking have shit in detroit HEHJKDHSDKJHJSDK #god i could go on forever but i wont. unless someone asks. insert eye emoji HEHKJKSDHJKSDHJK

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void-kissed · 11 months

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taken life, given soul (Xenoblade Ship Week 2023 Day 1)

Vanea's work in constructing Face Nemesis requires a suitable pilot to house the soul of Lady Meyneth. After finally acquiring a worthy candidate, she is surprised to learn that the chosen Homs still lives after the procedure, and is even more surprised at her willingness to strike up conversation with a supposed enemy. (2311 words)The second part of this writing replaces the Face Nemesis cutscene from the end of Chapter Six.

This is the first meeting between Vanea and my self-insert, Citri! ..Not the most conventional or romantic of first meetings, but here it is in writing nonetheless! Despite being a couple of days late on the finishing, I decided that hopefully this could be fitted to this year's Xenoblade Chronicles ship week, as set up by a friend of mine - I hope that that's alright ^-^

(Anyone is welcome to comment on or reblog my work if they wish, as long as my DNI is respected! Tag list and document transcript are under the readmore.)

Document transcript:

The Central Factory that lay within the chest of the Mechonis was where all Homs were taken after their capture, ready to be repurposed in the bodies of the Faced Mechon and used to assault the titan they had once dwelled upon. The recent attack on Colony 9 had provided the Mechon with some valuable resources, even if some of the initial reports were conveying worrying news about a new wielder of the Monado arising. Within the metal walls of the facility, new Mechon soldiers of all kinds were constantly being manufactured, mass-produced Faces among them. All operations were brilliantly orchestrated by the lone man spearheading the charge against the Bionis, who even now was doubtless deep in thought about how best to proceed in his efforts.

However, in an illuminated chamber that sat above the rest of the vast factory, his sister - a similarly-tall Machina woman with long grey hair - was overseeing the automated construction of a vast white-silver figure. Its parts all towered above her, interlaced with golden details and a doubled red diamond on its helmet-like faceplate. Below the mechanical figure lay an additional array of compatible pieces resembling parts of a human body, ready and waiting for a pilot to be fitted into them. Dozens of individual pieces were being put together by fine machinery, each one being subtly tweaked or modified as the woman carefully adjusted the many glowing controls before her, but the overall structure had yet to be properly assembled.

"Lady Vanea." came a sudden voice from the communication system above the woman. "There is a matter which requires your attention."

"What is it?" Vanea responded, addressing the empty chamber with cautious, distracted uncertainty. "I am still trying to resolve the faults in this Face's digits; can the matter not wait until this is resolved?"

The other voice seemed to pause, but only for a moment, before continuing its announcement. "It is about the pilot for the Face you are currently working on. Two potential candidates have been identified by our preliminary systems."

That was enough to catch Vanea's ear, as her eyes widened slightly before she finally turned her head to face the other voice. "..Very well. Please bring them here immediately, then."

A few robotic chirps could be heard, before further machinery began to whir into action - this time at the other end of the chamber, which Vanea had now turned to face with her back to the silver Face's controls. Its parts continued to be constructed without her direction, aside from what should have eventually become its pilot's fingers, given that they still lacked the proper range of movement to be fitted onto such an important Faced Mechon.

After a few moments, an opening appeared in the dark metal floor of the chamber, and the bodies of two young Homs women were lifted up through it, held up by actuators from the factory. Both looked somewhat similar at the first glance, being the same height and appearing of similar age - they both had golden blonde hair (though one wore it in a long dishevelled plait where the other's only fell to just past her shoulders), and as they were each scanned for further information, Vanea could see on the displays that they both had dark green eyes. One had freckles dotting her shoulders and rounded cheeks, and was littered with a number of scrapes and bruises, while the other's skin was clearer and she appeared to have suffered one particularly significant wound that had clawed at her clavicle.

"..What about these Homs has marked them out as worthy vessels?" Vanea asked, before the continued operations of the myriad machines circling each Homs began to output the pertinent results on the floating screens around her in the chamber. Carefully examining the data that had been gathered, Vanea found the answers lying within each girl's scanned memories, snapshots playing from them like a slideshow - the pair clearly shared a long history with not only each other, but also several other inhabitants of their home colony, and one boy with light blonde hair stood out particularly strongly to the Machina.

"..The Heir of the Monado." she said aloud in recognition. "They were both friends with him, it would seem.."

She pored over the memories closely, trying to glean what information she could about the two Homs' personalities from them. It seemed like somewhat of an invasion of privacy to do this, but it was of the utmost importance that everything was as perfect as it could be for her current project, so such measures had to be taken to ensure the correct compatibility. Finally, after some time, she had made her decision - it was the freckled Homs with the longer hair who would be used for this purpose, due to the piercing injury sustained by the other one potentially making it difficult for the key component to be added correctly. The glimpses of her many days spent pursuing scientific endeavours with the Monado's newest wielder had also caught Vanea's eye more strongly.

"Please take this girl and prepare her for piloting Nemesis." the Machina stated to her assistant machinery, before turning to look over her shoulder at the unfortunate error still blaring from the screens behind her. "..Adjust the current pilot specifications to her body plan, but- try to preserve her original hands, if possible. That may have to be the workaround for the defects in the current digits, non-ideal though it may be.."

She then sighed, and addressed the chosen girl's companion.

"This other one does still hold promise, though.. Perhaps see whether any of our experimental designs might be compatible with her frame - Azure, for example."

As the machinery around her whirred to action once more according to her choices, and each girl was sent to her fate, Vanea took a moment to compose herself, staring up at the pieces of her dream - the central prism of golden metal standing out above all others.

A vessel had finally been found to hold the soul of her people's goddess, and with her divine revival thus at hand, the time had come for the tides of war to shift.

As long as everything in this experiment proceeded as it was meant to, the end to such ceaseless conflict may have finally begun.

What a shame that the Homs' past would be erased in the process..

==========

Enough time had passed for all the preparations to be made. The Homs girl chosen by Vanea now had most of her body replaced by the mechanical components made beforehand, each piece now individually modified to ensure maximum compatibility with her remaining reconfigured immune and nervous systems. The only parts of her left that still appeared biological were her head above the neck and her hands past the wrists, though even they had received artificial upgrades below the surface to better serve as the Faced Mechon's central nerve unit.

This pilot unit was now being lifted into the central cockpit of the much larger silver Mechon, which had now itself been fully assembled. Its spiked and winged structure hovered high above Vanea like an angel, ready and waiting dutifully for its first activation as the final touches were smoothly made to its surfaces.

“Face Nemesis." Vanea began, addressing the construct above her.

"Your frame is complete.

As is the integration of your pilot."

Some of the assistant Mechon receded, revealing the pilot's unconscious figure sat in place within Nemesis' torso.

"This Homs..

She holds memories of the Heir of the Monado.

She appears to have seen him as a friend.

..I wonder what she would have been like to know.

But, that is not important here.

It only means that her body will be an able vessel for you, my Lady.

All that remains is the soul transfer..”

All other machines departed as the final Mechon descended, carrying the golden metal prism in its grasp. With exactly-calculated precision, the triangular component was fitted onto the chest of the Homs pilot. There was a moment of silence, before familiar red energy started to flow through the body of Face Nemesis; the soul component then started to glow with power, before settling down again as the armoured plating closed over the cockpit chamber.

"..I have fulfilled my duty." Vanea stated, allowing herself to smile as everything finally fell into place.

"You and only you can bring about a new age on Mechonis -

no, the entire world.

My mistress,

Lady Meyneth."

She waited, and then became all too aware of how empty the chambers around her still felt.

"..Lady Meyneth?"

A feminine voice suddenly rang out through Nemesis' speakers, but it was not the kind and caring tone that the Machina so fondly recalled, even all these centuries since she had last heard it directly.

"Ah.. Where.. W-Where am I..?"

Vanea's own voice caught in her throat from hearing such an unexpected response, and her brow furrowed. "You.. Are you Lady Meyneth?"

"What?" came the other voice, sounding weary and confused from inside the Faced Mechon. "No, my name is Citri. Um.. What *is* all of this..?"

At that moment, all Vanea could do was blink. She had never spoken with a Face pilot directly before, and the concern rising inside of her about what she had done wrong was making it all but impossible for her to properly address the anomaly.

"Something has gone wrong with the soul transfer.." she mumbled to herself, beginning to anxiously flit between the different screens and keyboards in her vicinity. "Yet, the scans themselves seem to be indicating that everything is properly in place.. Her presence is clearly *detectable*, and yet the central core is not showing signs of *activity*-"

A sense of panic flared within her, and her ability to maintain a composed exterior was rapidly deteriorating.

"My dearest goddess, what have I done wrong..?"

As she stifled a sob, the sound of mechanical joints moving rang out through the chamber, before they stopped (having been moved in error) and the torso plating opened back up instead.

"Um.. When you say "central core", do you mean this part?"

A tiny *tap-tap* noise, much quieter than any type of metal hitting metal could produce, prompted Vanea to lift her gaze. The Homs girl - *Citri*, as she had called herself - was tapping her still-organic fingernail on the prism of golden metal that was fitted to the chest of her new body.

"..Yes, that is correct." Vanea admitted, blinking uncertainly again.

"It.. feels as though something is inside of it." she then tried to explain, tilting her head as much as the cockpit would allow her to. "Some*one*, rather, if.. what you were saying before about your goddess is true. But.. I'm not sure whether she can wake up yet?"

The Machina took a moment to consider Citri's words. "That would be unfortunate, but.. it is reassuring to know that you are able to sense her presence."

Citri gave a small nod, very tentatively, but her expression was uncertain.

"..What was supposed to have happened?" she then asked.

"That Lady Meyneth's soul would be swiftly transferred into your body, overwriting your own, for her subsequent use as a vessel to pilot Face Nemesis." Vanea stated matter-of-factly. Then she stopped.

"..That was rather callous of me, wasn't it?"

"Somewhat, yes." admitted Citri, who would have mustered a smile if not for how disoriented she still felt. "But if nothing else, you definitely answered me clearly with how you said it, so.. thank you."

An awkward silence then settled in between the two.

"..Could you possibly tell me more about what's happened? What you've done to me, and all?"

The genuine nature of such a question, and the absolute lack of malice that she had expected to permeate through any Homs unwillingly stolen by Mechon, made it impossible for Vanea to simply dismiss the girl's curiosity. Something softened in her expression, and she opened her mouth to try and form an explanation, but the same voice from before piped up through the communication systems as she did so.

"Lady Vanea." it called out. "Master Egil wishes to see you."

This made her pause with some uncertainty. "Understood. Tell him I will see him.. momentarily." she then settled on.

"Acknowledged."

The device whirred away as Vanea's gaze fell back onto Citri, her red eyes meeting her green ones for a moment before neither felt able to hold the gaze further.

"..I apologise for this interruption, but- you may have my word that I shall return to these chambers once I have finished meeting with my brother." she then said. "It may well be that Lady Meyneth has properly awakened by that time, but if not, then.. If you would listen to our story, then I see no harm in sharing it with you."

"I understand." replied Citri. "That means a lot, Vanea."

She smiled at the mention of her name. "You miss little, I see. Very well then. I shall return shortly, Citri."

With nothing more to say for the moment, she then left her alone within Face Nemesis.

Only *after* she had turned to leave the chamber did Vanea realise her own instinctive use of the girl's own name, and she was surprised to have found herself recalling it from one mention. Nevertheless, she persisted in her next objective, doing her utmost to regain her usual composure even as she silently came to the conclusion that it was a name she wished to remember, despite part of her also knowing it was not a name she should have ever had a chance to learn.

Thankfully for both, there would still be many opportunities in the days that followed to converse, and to learn, and to get to know each other more than either could have envisioned beforehand.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #my writing #xenoblade chronicles selfshipping #xenobladeshipweek23 #yes i'm using the proper tag no I don't care if other people see this i'm going to be brave #this post is okay for anyone to reblog as long as my DNI is respected!#heart of the void #selfshipping #love: a wish for peace (vanea)#selfship: a love to last millennia (vanea/citri)#or its beginnings at least #self‑insert: vessel of nemesis (citri)#of gods and titans (xenoblade chronicles)#another character also technically shows up but not very prominently #and lady meyneth is *supposed* to show up but doesn't #..I really feel like this needs some kind of content warning but I cannot think of how to word it right this second sorry #and on the note of right this second it is quarter past two in the morning oops #uhh. mechanisation I guess? would that work I don't know #i have no idea how accurate this is story- or character-wise I apologise #canon is what I make of it or something along those lines #anyway I hope this is okay

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