Frequencies of The Heart (Soundwave x Reader)

Fractures

The cave was silent, save for the faint hum of Soundwave's systems, barely keeping him operational. The weeks of scavenging, fighting, and running were taking their toll. As you knelt by Soundwave's side, gently patching up the worst of his injuries with the limited resources you had left, a heaviness hung over you. The end of the road was near—you could feel it. But what that end looked like, you still didn't know.

Soundwave had stayed close to you these past weeks, even as his systems faltered. He watched you with that same quiet intensity, always alert, always protecting. But something had changed in you. The longer you stayed in this body, the more distant you felt—from yourself, from him. The spark of resentment that had ignited after the crash had grown into a smoldering flame, and no matter how much you tried to bury it, it burned at the edges of your every thought.

Every time you shifted into your jaguar form, it felt more natural, more instinctual. And that terrified you. You weren't you anymore, not fully. You were something new—something designed for a war you didn't even believe in. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized you weren't sure where you stood. The Autobots had taken you; the Decepticons had rebuilt you. Both sides had turned you into a weapon. What was the point in choosing anymore?

Soundwave's weak vocalizer broke the silence, his voice distorted and faint. "Anon... tired. Need rest."

You glanced at him, trying to hold back the growing frustration in your chest. He had been saying that more often lately, that he needed rest. You knew what it really meant—he was reaching his limit. But hearing him sound so defeated stirred something in you, something deeper than anger.

"You should've let me go," you muttered, barely above a whisper.

Soundwave's visor flickered, and for a long moment, he didn't respond. He just lay there, motionless, his systems barely audible. When he did speak, his voice was quieter than before. "Could not... lose you."

The words cut through you, sharper than any blade. He had done this for you, saved you when you thought there was no hope, but that choice had been his. And now, you were paying the price for it.

"I never asked for this," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "You saved me, but you didn't ask. You didn't give me a choice."

Soundwave's visor dimmed, as if the weight of your words was something he couldn't fully process. He had always been silent, always stoic, but in that moment, you could sense something like hurt. He shifted slightly, his frame creaking with the effort.

"Anon... needed you. Could not... let go."

The resentment flared up again, hotter this time. You stood, pacing the cave, the feeling of being trapped in this war, in this body, in this life, swelling to a breaking point. You had tried so hard to make peace with it, to move forward, but every day you felt less like yourself, less like the person you used to be.

"Maybe you should have," you snapped, your voice harsher than you intended. "Maybe I would've been better off."

Soundwave didn't move, but the silence that followed was suffocating. You knew he was processing, trying to understand. But how could he? How could anyone understand what you were going through? You were trapped in this form, in this endless fight, and every day it became clearer that the war had no end, no purpose. You didn't know who you were fighting for anymore.

"I don't want to fight this war," you said, your voice quieter now, but no less firm. "I don't want to be a part of this anymore."

Soundwave's visor flickered again, his system struggling to keep up. "War... inevitable. Must survive."

"I don't want to survive like this!" you shouted, your hands clenching into fists. "I don't want to be another weapon in their fight. I want out."

You hadn't said it aloud before, hadn't admitted it to yourself until now. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you knew they were true. You wanted out—out of the war, out of the chaos, out of this constant cycle of destruction. You couldn't do it anymore. You couldn't pretend like this was your fight.

Soundwave didn't respond immediately. His frame shifted slightly, his damaged systems whirring softly as he processed your words. You could sense his hesitation, his uncertainty. For so long, you had been his partner, his support. But now, you were something else—someone who didn't belong to the Decepticons, to the Autobots, to anyone.

Finally, he spoke, his voice strained but clear. "Then we leave."

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. "What?"

Soundwave pushed himself up slightly, his frame trembling with the effort. "Leave. Together. No more war."

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. Leave? Was it even possible? Could you really just walk away from everything—from the Autobots, from the Decepticons, from the endless war that had consumed your lives?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how tired you were. Tired of fighting, tired of losing, tired of being used as a pawn in someone else's game. Maybe leaving was the only option left. Maybe it was the only way to survive without losing yourself completely.

"Together?" you asked, your voice softer now, the anger ebbing away as you considered the possibility.

Soundwave's visor glowed faintly, his voice quieter but certain. "Together."

You looked at him—really looked at him. For so long, Soundwave had been your anchor, the one constant in a world full of chaos. Even now, after everything, he was still here, still willing to fight for you, to stay with you. And for the first time in a long time, you felt something like hope.

Maybe there was a way out. Maybe you could find a new path, one that didn't involve endless war and destruction.

But before you could respond, the sound of engines roared in the distance, growing louder by the second. Your spark jolted in your chest. The Autobots were closing in.

You turned to Soundwave, your voice urgent. "We need to move."

But as you spoke, you saw the strain on his frame, the way his systems flickered and dimmed. He wasn't ready to fight again—not like this.

Panic surged through you. You couldn't lose him. Not now, not after everything.

Without thinking, you transformed into your jaguar form, your movements swift and fluid as you crouched low, preparing to defend the cave. The Autobots were coming, and you had no choice but to fight.

But this time, you weren't fighting for the Decepticons. You weren't fighting for the war.

You were fighting for him.

And when the dust settled, you knew one thing for certain—you would leave this war behind, one way or another.

This fight would be your last.