Frequencies of The Heart (Soundwave x Reader)

Fragments of Control

Everything felt wrong.

Days had passed since you woke up in this new form—a body that wasn't yours, a body that didn't feel like it belonged to you. Each movement was a reminder of the life you had lost. The weight of your steps, the sound of your limbs shifting—metal against metal—it all grated at you, a constant reminder of how much had changed. And no matter how much you tried to focus, how much you tried to accept it, the disconnect between your mind and your body never left.

Every moment felt like an unfamiliar landscape you had to navigate—something you weren't prepared for. Your human reflexes had once been swift, instinctive. Now, you couldn't even manage something as simple as walking without feeling like you were going to topple over. The coordination, the sense of self, the very feeling of being was gone.

And Soundwave... he had been there the entire time, ever since you first woke up. Watching, assisting, guiding you with an almost tender patience. His proximity should have been comforting. But instead, it gnawed at you in ways you couldn't explain.

You resented it.

He had taken everything from you—your human life, your right to choose, the very essence of who you were. You couldn't stop thinking about the choice you never had. Death had felt so certain, and in the fleeting moments when your body had been shutting down, you had made peace with it. Or at least, you had thought you had.

You glanced up at Soundwave as he stood a few feet away, his visor glowing with a soft blue hue. His silence, once something that had comforted you, now felt suffocating. He was watching you closely, his presence constant and attentive, always just a step away as if he anticipated your every need. You could tell he was still hurting, mourning the loss of his cassette, and perhaps even dealing with his own guilt over what had happened to you.

But that didn't change the fact that he had made the decision for you. He had taken your life into his hands and decided you were worth saving—whether you wanted it or not.

"Try again," Soundwave said quietly, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, gentle even, as if he were coaxing you through a difficult moment.

You sighed, your metal shoulders sagging in frustration as you stood in the center of the training bay. Every attempt to transform had been met with failure, and each time you tried, it felt like a further reminder of how far from human you were. There was a deep discomfort in the idea of shifting your form, as though you were forcing yourself into something unnatural. It wasn't just the mechanics of it that were the problem—it was the idea of letting go of the last shred of your humanity.

With a grunt of effort, you closed your optics, trying to focus on the sensation of transformation. You could feel the parts of your new body straining, shifting, but it was clumsy, uncoordinated, like trying to move a limb you didn't have control over. Your form jittered, half-transforming before snapping back into place with a loud clang.

Your frustration boiled over. "I can't!" you snapped, your voice crackling with static as you lost control of the modulation. You turned away from him, your optics blazing with a frustration that had been building for days. "I'm not... I'm not this!"

You saw the flicker of Soundwave's visor, a slight shift in his stance as he processed your outburst. He didn't speak immediately, but you could feel his gaze on you, the weight of his attention steady and unwavering.

"Anon: adjustment, difficult," he said finally, his tone even. He stepped closer, but stopped short of reaching out to you.

"Don't," you bit out, turning to face him. "Don't pretend like this is just some adjustment. You did this to me." Your voice trembled, a mix of anger and fear. "You didn't ask. You didn't give me a choice."

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and raw. You hadn't meant for it to come out like that, but once the floodgates opened, you couldn't stop.

"You didn't even give me the chance to decide if I wanted this." You were shaking, your new form buzzing with unfamiliar energy. "I was ready to die, Soundwave. I was ready to go. But now..." You looked down at your metal hands, curling them into fists. "Now I'm stuck like this. And I didn't get a say in any of it."

There was a long pause, the only sound being the hum of the ship's systems in the background. Soundwave's visor dimmed slightly, a sign that he was processing your words. He remained silent, his form still, but there was a tension in the air, something unreadable in the way he held himself.

"Purpose: preservation," he said finally, his voice softer than before. "Anon: survival, priority."

You shook your head, your optics narrowing. "Survival at what cost? Do you even understand what this feels like? To wake up in a body that isn't yours? To be trapped in something you never wanted?"

For the first time, Soundwave's frame seemed to shift, a subtle but noticeable change in his posture. It wasn't anger—not in the way you had expected—but something else. Perhaps guilt? Regret? It was hard to tell with him.

But despite your words, despite the frustration simmering just beneath the surface, there was no denying the care he had shown since the moment you had woken up in this new form. He had been patient, gentle, guiding you through every step, every failure, every moment where you felt like you were falling apart.

It made you resent him even more.

Because despite everything—despite the anger, despite the bitterness—you still cared. You still felt something for him. And that only made the betrayal cut deeper.

"I didn't ask for this," you repeated, your voice quieter now, but the emotion behind it no less intense.

"Anon: pain, understood," Soundwave replied, and for a moment, you thought you heard something—some faint, uncharacteristic strain in his usually monotone voice. "Loss: shared."

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the emotions that were bubbling up. There was a part of you that wanted to lash out, to make him feel the same hurt you were feeling. But another part of you—the part that still remembered the bond you had shared—wanted to reach out to him, to close the gap that had grown between you.

But how could you? How could you reconcile the person you had been with the person you were now? How could you look at Soundwave and feel anything other than the bitterness of the choice he had made for you?

The silence between you stretched on, thick with unspoken words.

Finally, Soundwave spoke again, his voice as steady as ever. "Choice: denied. Regret: present."

You blinked, your optics focusing on him fully for the first time since your outburst. His visor flickered softly, the faint glow almost apologetic. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from him, one that cut through your anger like a knife.

"Anon: important," he said, stepping closer but still keeping enough distance to give you space. "Soundwave: protect."

His words stirred something in you, a mix of emotions that you couldn't quite untangle. You wanted to hate him for what he had done, for the choice he had taken away from you. But at the same time, you knew—deep down—that he had done it out of care. Out of a need to protect you, even if it had meant making the hardest decision of all.

"I just..." You struggled to find the words. "I just need time. To figure this out."

Soundwave nodded slowly, the movement almost imperceptible. He didn't push, didn't try to close the distance between you. Instead, he simply stood there, waiting—just as he had since the beginning.

And for the first time since waking up in this new body, you didn't feel completely alone. But that didn't change the fact that the resentment was still there, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when it would inevitably rise again.