#Soundwave lifts others like they weigh nothing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ddaenghoney · 4 years

Text

chapter thirteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): lot of manipulative aspects in conversation.

Word count: 5133

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Jimin finds himself contemplative. Standing motionless outside of the elevator, he looks on at the button to call for it still unlit due to his lack of movement. He’s supposed to hit the downwards facing arrow, earlier intending to work on choreography before the instructor arrived to work on finalization and moving on to the next song’s dance. But he doesn’t click the button, finding himself uncertain if he wanted to do that or follow the teeming sensation in his head to hit the button that would send him upwards.

He sighs, shaking his head and thinking about the ridiculousness of him just standing there. Rather than mull around in his thoughts it’d be more useful to do practically anything else, so he impulsively reaches to click a button. Stepping back, Jimin rubs his jaw, eyes glancing back down the hallway towards Yoongi’s studio.

For a second your simple sentence registers in his ears. A thanking comment that you didn’t have to say, especially considering how lackluster his involvement really was in the situation. Yoongi did more for you, and, had Jimin not spoken up in the midst of his annoyance overflowing out of his mouth, Yoongi likely would’ve said more. He clearly wanted that producer to stop being disrespectful to you.

Jimin falters at the memory, hand trailing to mess around with his hair as he thinks about your avoidance from the area by entrance into Yoongi’s studio. Not having to ask permission, it was simply granted to you, where it’s commonly understood by the majority of employees in the company that Yoongi hasn’t simply become comfortable with everyone to act like that. While he’s definitely polite and civil, there’s undoubtedly a line between himself and the original employees of SoundWave. Meanwhile, you’re an exception to the fact.

He bites his lip, attempting to silence the jealousy that he doesn’t have a right to feel strongly about anymore. Jimin made the choice to create a rift between the two of you, and there’s no sense in him trying to find away back across it anymore. The gap is too foundationally damaged with nothing in sight to fix its stability in a long-lasting way.

He enters the elevator, thoughtlessly clicking a floor number as he steps away from the couple of people also inside. Watching the stories climb, he tries to think about the future comeback he’s working on. There’s still much to record, but with the title track completed and choreography being mastered for it, Jimin finds the date of release running towards him at a speedy pace.

Another album to drop without his creative input poured into it in the way that you and other producers have worked so hard for him and every other artist. His name next to tracks, on the album cover, face in advertisement, and nothing in his heart to solidify the bond between himself and the music. The thought didn’t occur to him so strongly before, but now that he doesn’t see your happiness in showing him songs you’ve created, he can’t find anything exciting about the prospect of release.

Jimin can’t watch you pour emotion onto paper, or listen to the untamed ramblings of you passionately explaining songs given to other artists. He has to corrupt your meaning to come up with his own, behind lyrics he would have never written himself. He wants to scream onto pages with ink in the way you have. The scribbles in notebooks at his apartment and lines saved into his phone’s notes cling to the hope of further work, but wear away in abandonment. They aren’t enough.

Jimin steps out of the elevator, head bowing as Yerin’s secretary notices him. The button he pressed dragged him upwards in another attempt. Like his last visit, Jimin is unannounced, causing the lady greeting him to smile with apprehension of what he wanted. He could’ve succumbed and hid away in the lower basement levels where the dance studios are, but he’s on the top of the building again.

“Is she in?”

It takes a hesitant affirmative and a few more slowly spoken sentences for Jimin to be left standing in front of the secretary’s desk as she pages into the office. He didn’t have a reason to come up here this time. About a week earlier he had the faintest plan of asking permission to work with a producer on a small independent whim. Now he walks into the CEO office without a plan at all, uncertain of what he actually wants if he gives himself a moment to be honest with himself.

“Jimin,” Yerin greets the unassuming man as he carefully shuts the door behind him. Her eyes remain fixed on her computer as she types quickly, eyes unhindered by his presence. “Take a seat, this won’t take me long.”

Jimin does as she says, forgetting to nod his head as a response. He considers the implication of him coming here again so soon, wondering why he felt so impulsively moved to go and speak to Yerin again. The clutter of his head feels entirely unprocessed, but he thinks of you.

Recalling the hurt in your expression when he told you that he can’t accept what you wanted changed in your contract, Jimin sits with his hands meshed together, silently thinking about how he found himself so afraid to tell you that.

He knew completely that you wouldn’t be able to accept him staying beside you with an opposing perspective, because Jimin knows that despite all the crap that SoundWave gives you that you still understand the worth of what you do underneath all of your own insecurity of how to go about getting what you want. He didn’t want to lose you, but in agreement he’d lose everything he had worked for. However, the fact is that in so many ways what Jimin has was built for him. Jimin bites his lip, thinking that beside his own selfishness, he should’ve supported you.

The news of your leave comes to the forefront of Jimin’s mind. Rumors similar to the producer’s indignant comments swarmed the halls since the day of, but all cleared in front of him by your defiant statement that you quit. Splitting from the path you were on to start creating your own, you gave the greatest shock to the company. Even the tiny inklings shoved into the bottom of Jimin’s conscious, didn’t think you’d ever go this far when nothing outside of your choice is clear.

“Now then.” Yerin stops typing, shifting her chair to face Jimin directly as his eyes lift up to her. The person you overcame despite her chilling methodologies keeping the company arranged in perfect order. “What brings you here?”

“Y/N’s quitting.” Jimin’s voice speaks as small as he feels compared to Yerin and you. Obviously she knows this, and it isn’t something he should come from out of nowhere to restate unless looking for an argument, but his head didn’t consider words. Just the fact that there’s a crack where fingertips can reach through layers of deceptively bright veiling curtains.

The very corner of Yerin’s lip slides into a frown, the hand on her desk curling into an arch as the random sentence remains in the air without an addition. She notes an absence of apprehension in Jimin’s eyes as he stares back at her in the way one does after a realization. “She decided not to continue with the company, that’s correct.”

An evident erasure of any spite is removed from her tone, but not the gleam in Yerin’s eyes that Jimin sees through. Knowing she’s already irritated from your situation-- from losing control in the largest hidden piece to SoundWave. She’s good at hiding it to remain mostly poised.

“This means things are going to change.” Knowingly said. Not an observation, a promise. Jimin doesn’t smile, but his expression appears to be uplifted. Yerin’s hand curls more, fingers colliding with her palm, trying to find clairvoyance to study him, but his reaction is opposite of anything she expected to hear from Jimin concerning your leave.

“You’re not upset.” Yerin finds herself speaking the oddness aloud, not realizing so until she closes her mouth following the sentence. Appearing like a dissimilar person to the one she knows, Jimin pauses only for a moment, before air escapes his mouth in the smallest of laughs. Surprised as well.

“I know how much everything here rides on her.” He says, eyes casting down in consideration of everything you’ve accomplished for SoundWave. A gentle smile slips onto his expression, “I’ve been terrified of her getting sick of the crap she gets here.” He doesn’t miss a beat to rephrase himself, just sitting back into his seat while Yerin’s eyes follow his movements through a hardened gaze.

“Because you would never stop telling me how I’d never make it without her doing everything in the background. For years now that’s the only stance you’ve had, no matter how much I expressed how willing I was to do things for myself. It’s just always been you telling me no. That I’m not good enough-- that it’s not worth the risk.”

“It isn’t.” Yerin speaks up, sighing to refrain from clicking her tongue. She rolls her shoulders to sit up properly, speaking fluidly and without tact, “Your purpose here is for singing, dancing-- being the face of the Jimin persona the public want. Your artistry as a producer of any kind isn’t fruitful to take a risk in when you weigh it against people with endowed talent like Y/N and other producers in the company. This isn’t just about you Jimin. At the end of the day, what sells is more important than your desire to try your hand at songwriting.”

“She’s leaving.” Jimin says, words exiting his mouth with an audible grain of discontentment, that alters into rising frustration, “You’ve made it so she has nothing if she were to quit and she still has. You can’t rely on her to keep everything here functioning like it has-- it would only make sense that you change how things are handled and give the artists--” Jimin straightens from his chair, shoulders stiffening as he practically pleads through biting words, “Give me an opportunity to actually do what everyone out there thinks I do.”

Jimin remains still, watching for any reaction of his words, but Yerin only stares in a calmly pensive manner. No irritation of his outspoken demands, not even shock from his voice’s unintentional rise in volume from his emotions. Jimin keeps himself from faltering, thinking its best to remain firm no matter how long she appears to consider his words in silence.

“This isn’t entirely my decision to have the artists from creating their own music. It’s the board’s collective agreement to produce whatever will sell best from experience.” Cool words ease into the room, her fist uncurling so that her index finger can tap the quietest of beats against her desk. Yerin examines Jimin, finding him absent of a response yet. She shrugs a shoulder once, “To be completely honest with you, I’d rather go back to make a new deal with Y/N than give every artist a sudden opportunity at self-production, but she’s set in her ways.”

“She deserves better than what she gets here.” Jimin speaks without hesitation, though a piece of his mind becomes inquisitive as a faint smirk grows on Yerin’s face.

“And you don’t? Your contract ends at the end of the year.” She says, voice more sly than Jimin has ever heard. “Why not just leave at the end of it too?”

Jimin’s eyebrows crease in surprise, staying quiet while he tries to consider what she means. He catches the sound of his heart once and then it stays in his ears, feeling as though he’s done something wrong. He hadn’t considered his disposability. But that’s a factor isn’t it, one that should’ve crossed his mind, and maybe in a normal train of thought it would’ve. In other situations maybe he’s had the warning in the back of his mind that they could simply get rid of him since he’s replaceable. Replaceable. The word repeats with his heart, making Jimin bite on his inner cheek.

“You’re a liability to other companies.” Yerin leans her chin against her hand, watching him boredly. Her expression different from calm, similar to apathetic instead. “Your career is what it is because of how you’ve been marketed, conceptualized, created-- all synthetic.” Her finger continues a tap that’s out of beat from the way Jimin feels his heart, out of sync, creating a disarrayed ambiance. “You aren’t anything without what we make for you, Jimin.”

Her words send Jimin’s memories back, to every other instance of conversation with her privately for the past five years. The insinuations varying in how opaquely they’re depicted, but also equating to the strings attached to his performances on stage. How crafted his public persona is. Yerin’s reminders that he’s the face alone, and all else is because of collaborated work behind the scenes. Telling him again and again, if Y/N leaves his career could shatter right along with it.

“Just because Y/N leaves doesn’t mean we can alter the entirety of how the company operates. That’s like asking for public scrutiny.” She exhales, rolling her shoulders again in a relaxed manner. Jimin’s eyes don’t leave her, too frozen like suffocation. “Maybe if you left together with her, you could’ve made something, but from the looks of things that’s not something I need to be concerned about, or else you would’ve submitted resignation the same day she did.”

Jimin wonders how you were able to walk off without anyone. Under Yerin’s gaze and the tangling of her words, Jimin feels no freer than usual. Then he realizes that what she says is valid. You’re the one with talent. Yerin knows he can’t leave on his own because of that. Nothing on his own, Jimin is just what they’ve made. Like Yerin has always told him.

Making him align with the company’s perspective to keep your desires subdued. Tricked perhaps, but it’s true that a collapse without you is possible. An engrained thought.

Jimin sits back in the chair, eyes glancing from her to a random point in space in front of his legs. There’s no tension in his body, but he feels as though he’s lost.

---

You stretch your legs, sock-clad feet lying atop the opposite armrest. Staring up towards the ceiling, you let a song play through your ears for the fifth time in a row, while your fingers tap softly along to the beat where they rest on the pillow you clutch against your stomach. The airpods aren’t soundproof like the headphones Yoongi uses when editing, so the typing of his fingers on the computer keyboard ring in the back of your mind. You barely notice when the monotonous sound breeches your concentration on the finalized version of the first song you worked on with him, but you find difficulty in ignoring when he starts typing again after abrupt pauses to take curious glances back in your direction.

“You know, I’m not really upset about that producer--he’s always been like that about my job.” You say plainly, unlocking your phone to pause the song, realizing that the comment would result as it does in Yoongi spinning halfway on his chair to better face you. “I kind of figured people would start rumors anyways.”

“Then maybe I’m more annoyed with that guy than you are.” A tiny sheepish curl begins at the corners of his lips, prompting an endeared smile on your own expression as you eventually shrug. “When did you start hearing the conversation?”

“About whenever he called out to Jimin.” You sit upwards on the couch, tossing the small pillow to the table and pulling your legs up to your chest so your chin can situate on your knees. “I thought he was going to notice me, but he looked in the other direction.” A small scoff escapes your lips sounding like a bitter amusement in Yoongi’s ears. Yoongi’s head nods slightly as he stands up to his feet, strolling to sit on the couch where your legs had occupied prior. “You sounded mad-- I would’ve been scared if I was him.”

Yoongi sighs at the memory of his tone, covering his slightly embarrassed smile with his hand as he rubs his face, sinking further back into the couch. You giggle at his reaction, lightly bumping the tip of your foot against his thigh to tease him. “Who wouldn’t? What a way to get information-- trying to get it through me,” He mumbles his words with his bottom lip prominently poking with his words, “In the first place I wasn’t going to let him say whatever about you anyways. Especially not go around saying you got fired.”

“Yeah,” Your eyes glow happily like your expression as you watch him talk. Yoongi shrugs, crossing his arms to keep himself quiet at risk of sounding silly. “Thank you, Yoon. It made me happy to hear you defend me like that, honestly.” You bite your lip to refrain from more laughter as he just shrugs again and purses his lips together in a muted satisfied smile. “Really I am!” You go on thinking his shy disposition is cute, but Yoongi only nods, mumbling in a joking way,

“Yeah, such a genuine way to thank someone.” He knows you’re speaking with sincerity, but he teases in return just concluding that you may try again with a higher-pitched voice to get him to believe you. Yoongi’s head turns to you as you shift on the couch, curiously raising an eyebrow as you simply crawl the pace to him and tug him into a hug,

“Thank you,” The final syllable trails on in a whine, as Yoongi laughs outright in response to your attempt to get him to stop pouting. His arm as well goes to wrap around your waist, unintentionally nudging you beneath the curve of your side prompting you to suddenly jerk. Pulling him back with you, Yoongi’s upper body lands on yours as you make a squeak of shock from being tickling and fall backwards onto the couch. “Don’t tickle me; I’m trying to be nice and thank you.”

“Accident,” He chuckles, adjusting himself into a less awkward angle as your hugging arms around his ribcage tighten warningly as though you attempt to get revenge. “What are you trying to do; wrestle me to apologize, angel?” Yoongi laughs, listening to your abrupt voice dismissing the idea sheepishly. “If we’re trying to replay the nap from the other day then maybe I should set an alarm since you fell asleep instead of waking me up.”

“How dare you call me out.” You can’t help but grin in embarrassment as he laughs, both recalling the hour nap that ran closer to three. “You made me fall asleep too.” Helpless mumbling excuses leave your lips, while Yoongi makes a disapproving whine at the passing of blame. “Also, how come you get to lie on me again? What if I want a pillow?”

“You threw the pillow onto the table.” He says bluntly, flicking his chin in the direction, as his waist wiggles to break free of the hug. You let out a single laugh, having forgotten that fact entirely and feel silly about his reminder. “But fine, since you’re complaining,” Yoongi’s voice trails off, simply taking a grip on either of your shoulders to bring you along with him as he lays his head on the opposite armrest.

Catching up with the altered positions, you feel a blush creeping along your cheeks while Yoongi’s arms lazily encompass your waist, leaving your face hidden from his sight as you situates against his chest. Biting your lip, you try not to think too much about the placement of your hands, but are at a loss of knowing where to put them. As your ears catch the faint melody of his heartbeat, you feel able to relax just the same with the weight of your forearms flattening also on his torso.

“Comfy?” The faint coarseness of Yoongi’s voice sounds mostly relaxed and gentle, but the questioning tone is genuine. You think even a little nervous that he did something wrong, but your head properly nestling against him relieves most of that worry. Evaporating it in entirely as your voice trickles peacefully,

“Yeah, very.” You don’t think he’s serious about taking a nap, considering the later hour of the afternoon and that you both would likely leave for the day soon. Nonetheless, not an ounce of energy in your body gives you the idea of scooting away from him. Too relaxed with in the warmth of Yoongi’s arms and gentle sway of your head rising and lowering from his even breaths, you lie enjoying the moment. Your hands twitch in little movements as indecision in your head goes back and forth, but eventually you ease them around Yoongi’s waist as well. Satisfied with the action as he shifts up only enough for you to hug onto him as he is to you.

“Maybe it’s not something for me to say, but I’m really proud of you for talking back to that guy, angel.” Yoongi admits softly, glancing as you wiggle a little and squeeze your arms tighter around him. Stifling any chuckling, he sees the faintest of rose decorating your complexation, and rubs his hands along your back, smiling as he questions, “What? You were cool.”

“Stop,” You laugh slightly, then sigh, “I was just annoyed. I don’t know.” Your cheek presses against Yoongi as you reconsider your actions, “I didn’t really feel scared or anything though… It felt kind of easy to speak-- defend myself, actually.”

“That’s good.” Yoongi smiles, letting his neck relax so his eyes can find the ceiling while he goes on, “I think you’re a strong person. Even if things are hard for you, you still do what’s best for yourself.”

“Whatever that is.” You mumble, not intending to discredit Yoongi’s words, because they really made you feel better about it all. Still you can’t help wonder about the future when the present seems so mixed up.

“Things will work out.” He replies simply, knowing it’s not a secure comfort. They’re ultimately just words with only what Yoongi knows about you to make up their validity, but in some ways he believes the simpleness is closer to what you would like to hear. Rather than dedicate paragraphs to idealistic scenarios, he supports you in a genuine sentiment enshrouded with the security of holding you in his arms.

Though there are ways for him to help you in a more pressing way. The idea of it is practically rebellious to the structure of his public persona, but the care of it bothers him less in the moment than it did when he rambled his worries to Hoseok. At the forefront of his mind is your situation, but also all of the potential associated with the idea. The small piece of it that could work for both of you even.

“I was thinking a lot lately,” Yoongi draws out the sentence, hesitant of the words due to their likelihood to change the temperment of the moment. But the rumor of you getting fired plays through his head, as well as the other instances of unfair treatment you’ve received. How you’re willing to leave with nothing. You hum for him to continue, your body completely lazed into his own. “If you want to, I want to release those songs we made together.”

There’s a beat of quiet, then you’re breeching away to support yourself on your arms. Looking down at Yoongi in an incredulous calm, your eyes narrow thinking you didn’t hear him correctly. He can’t help but smile up at you, finding your bewildered small frown endearing, but says again, easier now that it’s been said once, “I want to release them. Independently from my brand; just as Yoongi. With your name there too.”

“You’ll,” You stutter, still thrown off from the prospect, and the air in your throat hitching because of mention at your name being put beside something you’ve worked on. “You’ll get in trouble though, Yoon. I don’t want you to get in trouble for me.” You frown, wishing that you could say yes as instantaneously as he probably hoped for you to.

Yoongi’s undeterred by your response, hands running tiny slow streams along your back still to give a moment of calm. “I’ve released stuff independently before, angel. They don’t mind.”

“But they will if my name’s in there.” You swallow thickly, frown growing into more worry as your eyes deflect from his as you think of reprimand that would come his way undoubtedly.

“You’re not renewing your contract. They can’t stop you from doing what you want.” He strays a hand from your back to find your cheek, gently coaxing you to look back towards his eyes. Yoongi notices the evident spike of worry for his career, finding it similar to what he thought of his own career when Hoseok was going through his scandal. Then unwilling to help because of the risk. “Frankly, I don’t really care anymore if this company wants to get mad at me. My last one already stopped me from helping one friend when I could’ve, and I’m not going to let this one do it again.”

For a second you think that Yoongi’s desire to help you out is your fault for always bring your troubles into his life. That you’ve made him feel obligated. But you realize you’ve never indicated that you wanted to release the music. You didn’t join in collaboration with him under the pretense that you could find a way to drop the music into the public-- it was just his offer to give you an outlet when you originally were sad. But it became three songs before either of you realized. Never a discussion of release, and you didn’t expect anything because of a predisposed view you’ve grown used to.

“I want to.” Yoongi tells you softly, his eyes inspecting your expression as you feel a shift from worry into something different. He watches the space below your eyes, thumb brushing along your cheek to collect a tiny tear, and he notices your jaw appears to be clenched like you’re holding back. A faint smile drifts onto his face, “Do you?”

“I,” You try to speak, only becoming conscious of the tears Yoongi’s already aware of when they drip away because of your speech. An obscure mixture of anticipation fights with pessimism about his idea. “I feel like I shouldn’t be allowed to say yes.”

“You can if you want.” Yoongi says, brushing away more of the conflicted tears and catching you against his chest when you huddle back against him. “You don’t have to right now, either though. Just know that if you decide you want to release them, we can.”

“Even if it’ll get you in trouble though, Yoon?” You mumble in a more tamed worry, shifting in belief that maybe you could take a hold of this option that he’s willing extending you.

“Yeah, sweetie. I don’t mind that.” He listens to you groan against his chest, but just rubs your back to soothe any worries. His shoulders startle stiff when you lift your head up once more to look him in the eyes,

“You’re insane. You’re too nice, Yoongi.” Your voice is high like when you tease him or ramble about things you’re surprised about. He just shrugs, head tilting and only offering a smile in return. “You,” Frowning towards him, you wonder shortly why he always has to witness tears escaping your eyes to the point that you can’t even find yourself embarrassed about it. “You make me so happy.”

The shift in your voice to a small whisper leaves Yoongi quiet. Given the context of the conversation the admission is a bit nonsensical, only serving to create flurries in his ribcage. An earlier thought of hoseok’s words replay in his heads about Yoongi being fond of you, and it leaves him a little stunned in reaction to how you appear in his eyes. Yoongi opens his mouth a little to speak but finds no words coming out, silenced further by your curling smile.

“You know that you don’t have to feel like you need to help me, right?” You speak as through searching for doubt, but Yoongi instantly shakes his head. Curtly responding,

“I don’t. I help you because I want to.” More than that, but his mind doesn’t catch a particular word as he watches you rub your eyes from the previous evidence of surprise about his idea. His hands slide from a hug, settling to gently hold onto the sides of your waist, finding himself struck by enamor as you softly laugh.

“I wonder why-”

“I care about you.” Yoongi maintains eye contact as he blurts into your sentence, remaining serene like voice as you drop your hands from your face back to his chest. Looking down you take a moment to consider the intention of his words, unable to ignore the fervent tone despite his low voice. “We’ve gotten really close this year; why wouldn’t I want to help you?”

“Because I act like I need it every other second,” You murmur mostly teasing to which Yoongi rolls his eyes. Not having that thought for even a second. You giggle, reaching your hand to play with his hair and soothe his suddenly sour expression at your joke. “You mean it about wanting to release the songs?”

“Yes.” He nods, humored by the way you stare at him to search for even a hint that he’s unsure.

“You really mean it-”

“Angel,” He sighs, smiling at the singsong voice you ask again with. Squeezing your waist, Yoongi nods his head, “I thought about it a lot before today. I mean it.”

Your lips purse into a line. Knowing full well that Yerin would be angry the second those songs are sent out, you’re still hesitant. Granted the spiteful part of you finds the prospect of irritating her amusing, but not at all at the expense of Yoongi’s reputation within the company or otherwise. But if he’s the one presenting the idea, stating over and over again that he’s okay with it, you’re inclined to acknowledge that he knows what the idea could mean for him. And he’s still willing to do it.

“Okay, then.” Your heart thrums at Yoongi’s eyes widening slightly from your approval, but the quickly expanding smile on his face is hopeful so you succumb to a mirroring it. “Let’s release them.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi@xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles

69 notes · View notes

nonbinarybrainstorm · 5 years

Note

Hey may I please request tfp soundwave going into a heat rut and his bot s/o helping him

I got three asks all along the same track of thought so I decided to combine them. I hope you all like it. Fair warning though: I wrote this mostly after getting my wisdom teeth removed on 1600 mg of ibuprofen. Yay! Drugs! So have fun

The message had been ominous and strange. All the words had been strangely garbled for Soundwave who’s normally so organized and even refined. Trepidation fires through the little bot’s circuits as they answer the call to come to Soundwave’s quarters. They knock on the door but when they receive no answer after a long moment, they put in the familiar pin to themself into SOundwave’s domain. They’ve been here many times before, quite familiar with the large screens that now serve as the only light source in the crowded room, filled to the brim with tech. The doors shut firmly behind them, trapping the little bot in the room who has no intention of turning back now that they’ve made it this far. The lack of presence of their dear Soundwave is concerning all on its own and they begin to worry for his sake. That’s when they notice something heavy in the air, a smell like over-clocked mechanisms and warm oil clouds the air around them, making them feel warm and hazy. Continuing on into the depths, they follow the scent into the deep recesses of Soundwave’s dwelling to be welcomed by stuttered, heavy vents. What they see makes them pause.

Soundwave, his face flickering languidly and in time with his ragged vents while his plates flare out, letting spirals of steam float through the cool air. Lower, they see his long digits digging into the soft mass of a pillow and his spike, its purple biolights glowing brightly has stalled in his desperate thrusts against the pillow that’s now stained pink with transfluid. With that, everything immediately clicks into place: Soundwave is in a rut and called them there to help. Fire seems to flood through their fuel lines at the realization, an overwhelming heat making its way to their interface array. Soundwave stares intently at them, his face, blank as ever, as he stays quiet then he stands up while discarding the pillow to the side. He moves to kneel before the small bot and brings his hands up to cup their hip and the cusp of their torso. Leaning in to press his faceplate against their chest, he lets out a gentle rumble like a quiet plea, one of the few sounds he makes with his true voice and even then, just when it’s the two of them. His appendages that are reminiscent of tentacles come up and gently stroke their frame, urging them on in silent request.

They gently push him from their frame just to take ahold of his hand so they can pull him towards the berth. A thrum of charge peaks in Soundwave’s systems, letting his little mate know how excited he truly is with a crackle that emanates through the air. As soon as they lay back on the berth, Soundwave is upon them, nuzzling into their chest, the heat clouding around their frame, making them feel dizzy, almost light-headed. It’s clear that they haven’t been totally unaffected by Soundwave’s rut as they open their panels to reveal their wet valve. Soundwave runs a delicate digit over their folds before pressing into their entrance to tease their nodes. They can see how much this is putting a strain on him to keep his control, his frame practically shaking from the effort of not just taking them already. Warmth fills the little bot’s spark knowing and seeing -especially now- how much Soundwave cares for them with how careful he always is with them, how patient. The feeling of those gentle fingers inside them makes them gasp as he curls them delicately, then another is added, making them grab onto his pauldrons as they buck into the touch.

“Come on,” they gasp, “I can take it. I know you want to be inside me already.”

Another rumble shakes their petite frame as he slides his digits out and moves to loom over them, his much larger frame shadowing the little bot. Soundwave balances on one hand and cups their helm with the other as his tendrils wrap tightly around their thighs, spreading them open for him. His spike slides through their wet folds, grazing over their anterior node, earning another buck from his little mate. Sliding back almost painfully slow, he pushes into their entrance as they arch their back at the feeling of being filled, his spike stretching them so nicely. They dig into the berth almost to the point of gouging into it as he begins to thrust into them. It’s forceful as he pushes into them but slow and rhythmic so they can feel the entirety of his spike inside them all at once. He drags slowly out after every thrust in, pulling at the folds of their valve and dragging over nodes, sending delightful little peaks of charge up their frame. They grasp onto what they can as they writhe helplessly on his spike as he goes faster and faster, rocking their while frame.

As his thrusts begin to become frantic, he pins their hands to the berth and raises their legs up higher with his tendrils to thoroughly immobilize them. They can do nothing but whimper and moan, captive in his grasp as he uses them with lubricant soaking his spike, making it all sound so obscene. It’s intoxicating to see him lose control like this all for them, eventually feeling his thrusts stutter as his spike twitches inside them as he spills hot transfluid in their valve. They moan at the feeling but are still firmly on the edge of overload but Soundwave doesn’t disappoint. He barely slows as he recovers from his overload, thrusting slowly but no less enthusiastically, his rut granting him a surprising amount of stamina. As he coaxes them to overload, he leans down and nuzzles the crook of their neck.

“May I spark you?” he asks in a voice they’ve never heard before, a voice seemingly lost to time. It wasn’t garbled in a mix of voices but clear, a whole sentence in one voice. They wonder for a moment what it could be from, maybe an old movie, an ex-partner, or even a scandalous porn vid from the black market. Whatever the case may be, they take it in hungrily as another secret piece of Soundwave they get to have, a piece reserved just for them.

“Yes,” the little bot gasps, “Spark me. Fill me up so I can carry your sparklings. Please.”

Their words drive him in a frantic haze, lifting them up so he’s thrusting up into them. He drags one hand down their frame to play with their node, bringing them into a sudden overload. Then he slides them off his spike easily, their small, light frame weighing practically nothing in his arms. Transfluid and lubricant drip from their valve as he flips them around and pushes them firmly into the berth while lifting their aft up to him so he can sink his spike into them once more. He takes them in that new position, holding down their twitching frame as he bucks in roughly and quickly into them. They hold on to the berth as their whole frame rocks then they get pushed down when soundwave spills into them again, filling them with more transfluid. He fills them like that again and again with overload after overload that’s drawn from their frame until they collapse into his hold. Taking a moment to steady himself after the last overload, he comes up, sliding his spike free from their valve, letting lubricant and transfluid gush from it. He traces a digit appreciatively along their folds as they vent heavily on the berth before scooping them up gently in his arms, holding them close.

They’re close to drifting away, feeling safe and warm against Soundwave, then they’re jostled by moving plating that reveals Soundwave’s brightly glowing spark. Knowing without asking what he wants, they let their own chestplate transform away and gingerly lean in and when their sparks meet it’s an explosion of sensation and color that wracks their frame with pleasure like no other. When the feeling ebbs away and they come back to themself, they collapse in Soundwave’s arms, close to falling into recharge. As they fade away, a gruff voice breaks the quiet.

“Thank you, my love.”

And with that, they fall into a deep recharge with a small smile on their face.

#soundwave #tfp #valveplug #nubbswrites #Anonymous

84 notes · View notes

selanaris · 5 years

Text

Wake Up a Vehicon Story(Pt.III)

“I will not ask again. What happened here?!”

The vehicons shook in fear of the commander and his trine, “Uh...t-the Autobots attacked, and s-stole the energon supplies of the lower level. Uh, sir!” shouted one of the drones, fearing for his short life.

“Did any of you see it happen, or even try to fight back!”, the drones flinched at the commander’s tone.

“No, sir, we did not see what happened, we only just arrived after they got away. We came to look for survivors, only to find just this one here-” said the other drone before the first one elbowed him.

“A survivor?” questioned Starscream, walking around the two drones to see the barely online drone, “And did you not think to try to keep him online, he could have valuable information!”

“But…” the first drone hesitated, weighing his options, “He is online, just in stasis.”

“Then what are you waiting for, get this drone to the Nemesis for immediate repairs, they just need to stay online long enough to get the information out of its processor.” Starscream watched as the drones did nothing, “That is an order!!” The two drones rushed to pick up D-8311 and darted to the upper level as Thundercracker called for an upper-level ground bridge and update Soundwave on the situation.

The three seekers stood in silence after the drones departed, all three frowning, thinking. Then the youngest, unable to take the silence any longer, spoke up, “I know you felt it, we all felt it.”

The biggest member sighed, “It’s faint, very faint, near unnoticeable.” Thundercracker looks at his trine mates, “It’s far, it feels as if they’re galaxies away, but we didn’t feel it until we came to this planet, in this specific mine.”

Starscream, who has been silent throughout the conversation, starts to growl, surprising the other two, “The feeling is gone! They were right there and now they’re gone!!” he now begins to outright yell in rage. “Our sparkling is here and I never noticed!!! How could we have never noticed this before?! How could they just disappear like that?! Why is their spark signature very faint?!”

“Our bond.” whispers Skywarp, barely catching the attention of his trine mates, “When we are together our bond becomes stronger, and so does the bond between our sparkling. This means we can find them, they are on this planet!” he beams with joy at the thought of finding their lost sparkling.

“We can’t.” Thundercracker says mournfully, destroying the youngest’s joy, “Megatron has forbidden us from searching for our sparkling.”

The area goes into a somber silence, “Then we don’t tell,” Two helms look up at their leader, “We search, but we have to be discrete, we fly together on patrols and report anything we feel in our spark and remember where you felt it.” Starscream smiles confidently and looks at them, “We will find our sparkling.”

Later on the Nemesis…

The two drones carried D-8311 to the med bay, both grumbling on the way, “You should have just said he was offline, then we would be saved the trouble of actually saving him.”

The other one laughed, “He won’t be online for much longer. You heard the commander, they’re just keeping him online long enough to extract the information out of his processor. Anyway, let’s just drop him off and get out of here, you know vehicons are no longer allowed on the ship.” Both of the drones stop in front of the med bay before hesitantly walking in.

They quickly pause at the sight of the medic sitting on the lap of his assistant gently stroking his chin. The doctor and his assistant froze at the sight of the two drones walking in and are about to shout at them to leave before they noticed the injured drone they brought along. Knockout quickly goes into medic mode as he gets off Breakdowns lap to set up the medical berth, “What are you waiting for, put him on the berth, I need to know his barcode, what happened, and what are the orders.” commanded the doctor as Breakdown gathered the necessary tools for basic repairs.

One of the drones sets D-8311 on the berth and Breakdown starts plugging him into the support machines while the other drone explains the situation, “We were attacked in the mines by the Autobots and this one got shot in the chassis, but he is the only one to survive the attack. So Starscream has given the order to stabilize him and to extract his information about the attack.”

“Yes, yes.” Knockout said dismissively typing into a datapad, “And his barcode designation?”

“D-8311”

This answer caused both medics to freeze and Knockout almost dropped the datapad he was working on. “Get out,” stated Knockout. When he noticed the drones not moving he said it again, this time in a form of a command, “I order you to get out!”, now with their command protocols activated, they quickly left the room, unable to disobey the order.

“Knockout,” started Breakdown, sighing before dropping the news of the patient’s condition, “the damage is very severe. The outer casing of the spark chamber is broken and energon is leaving faster than we can put in.” Breakdown handed the doctor the datapad with the basic scan of the drone.

Knockout looked over the information quickly before his optics widened and he looked from D-8311 to his assistant, “He should be offline by now, it’s impossible for an artificial spark to last this long with this kind of damage.” he paused to look over the damage, “Breakdown, you work on doing the basic repairs and start the processor download, then send the download to Soundwave. I refuse to just download and let D.Bell offline like that,” Breakdown nodded slowly.

“We are disobeying an order by saving him you know”, he sighed looking to Knockout to ensure that this is what he wanted to do.

Knockout began collecting the needed materials to fix the drone’s spark chamber, “I know, but we both know that there is something special about D.Bell, and the point he is still alive proves that.” Breakdown plugged in his processor for download, “With the extensive damage, there is a possibility for him to lose his memory from the download, after all, drones don’t have processor backup software.”

Knockout moves to work on his spark chamber while breakdown begins on the legs. For a while they worked in silence before the doctor gasps, “What is it?” asked his assistant.

Knockout lifts something out of the drones chassis, a boxlike object with a wire connected to the spark chamber, “Why does a drone need a spark inhibitor?”, he starts to inspect the inhibitor before his optics go wide, “This is Shockwaves work, that I know for sure, but….why does a drone...need it?” Knockout moves quickly to the spark chamber, checking his patchwork, ensuring that it is stable enough for further spark inspection. He then moves to the middle seam of the chamber and goes to open it with breakdown watching intently on the side.

The doctor opens the spark chamber wide to allow visage of the artificial spark, only for both the medic and his assistant to freeze. For what seemed like hours, they stood there staring at the chamber, then Breakdown finally broke the silence, “Maybe that’s why…”

Inside the chamber where an artificial spark was supposed to be was a large, bright, real spark. Both medical officers were stunned, unsure of how to proceed with this, and only one thing was said by the doctor, “It’s a femme?!”

Meanwhile…

Soundwave had access to all the cameras through his visor to watch for any sign of Autobots, unwanted guest, rouge Decepticons, Starscream, etc. But at the moment he was focused on one specific camera. The med bay.

He watched the entire scene play out. From the drones arriving, to the doctors starting repair and download, to the discovery of the drone un-artificial spark.

This discovery led to many questions. How did this happen? Was it on purpose? Does the drone know? Who does know? And, how many drones have real sparks?

He knows for a fact that there cannot be many drones with real sparks, he has seen many drones artificial sparks before, and it’s a possibility for this to be the only one.

Soundwave stood there trying to figure out this new discovery, completely ignoring the information download sent from the medics. He ran every possibility through his processor, running constant simulations through his head. He wanted to know more about this mech….femme, but he knew Megatron’s new order for all vehicles. Perhaps he can use his rank and loyalty to ask for this drone specifically as a personal drone. No, he’ll want to know why, and Soundwave doesn’t feel like sharing this information, or his drone. Yes, his drone.

He ran another scan, this time over the spark signature, trying to identify the spark. He found nothing in the primary database, so he began to run it with all other collected databases, old, new, stolen, recovered, he went through each one before stopping at one database. The late doctor, Hook’s database. He found a match with a very vague file, his last entered, and uncompleted file. Starfall. The sparkling to none other than the command trine itself.

This was an issue. Seekers are very, very, protective of sparklings, whether they’re their own or not, and with all the seekers now on board, his plans will be much harder to complete. They will try to take away his drone. He won’t let some weak seekers with caregiver programming take away what belongs to him. They can’t take them away, if they don’t know about them, or can tell which one is which….

He looked back at the med bay camera and watched them repair the drone. What was it that they said, memory loss. That means the drone will be set back to basic drone programming and will be needed to given core settings. That is when he will enter. Drones physically cannot deny orders from higher-ups set during core settings, but if only one mech was entered during that phase. They will only listen to him and only him.

Soundwave began to move, and plan. The moment the medics leave, that will be his chance. A simple reprogramming and processor hacking will ensure this drone will belong to him.

He has been sure about many things, but he has never been more sure about anything before.

Drone D-8311, D.Bell, Starfall, belongs to Soundwave.

#transformers #Transformers Prime #soundwave #knockout #breakdown #starscream #thundercracker #skywarp #Seeker Trine #vehicons #megatron #WakeUpFic #Soundwave is possessive #maccadam

15 notes · View notes

sassycassie-s-writing · 6 years

Text

To Be Happy - Autumn

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam, SuperFam - Jason Todd/Robin & Conner Kent/Superboy

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: Part 1 Summer. @welovegroot

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Ahhh high school. The “good old days” that I’m glad to say I don’t miss too much.

^^^^^

September 7, 1:45PM

“I think Conner’s going to ask me to homecoming,” I said to Robin as we snacked on popcorn in the common room, months later. No one else was at the base except the two of us. They were all on a mission, but Robin had been injured and I was studying.

Robin’s voice cracked as he replied, “That’s great.” He cleared his throat. “That’s great.” A cough. “Stupid puberty,” he mumbled.

I couldn’t help but giggle. “It’s okay, I thought it was cute.” I glanced up from my book and smiled at him. “Do you think I should go with Conner though? I mean…” I sighed and shrugged. “I dunno. I like him but I always feel like he’s keeping me at arm’s distance.” I bit my lip and watched Robin think.

“He’s always like that. He doesn’t show how close he feels to someone because he… just kinda doesn’t know how,” Robin reasoned. “I think… I think you should go with him. Be, uh, be sure to send me a picture of you in your dress.”

I chuckled. “I think I will. Thanks Robin. That… that’s really encouraging.”

^^^^^

Jason you NUMBSKULL! Jason thought harshly to himself. Why are you encouraging her to date another guy? What kind of idiot ARE you?!

He peeked at Starbeam as her attention returned to her book and she pulled her knees up higher to balance her book on them. He knew exactly what kind of idiotic numbskull he was. The kind who was besotted and bewitched by the telekinetic powerhouse sitting on the other end of the sofa, reading a textbook with her tongue between her teeth and her eyelashes casting shadows down her face.

The kind of idiot who was willing to shove his own feelings out of the way in order for her to be happy. Who was willing to watch her be with someone else as long as it meant that he got to see her smile and the way it lit up her eyes—even if her beautiful smile and laugh wasn’t directed at him.

He sighed to himself, casting his eyes down at his injured knee. He thanked the pain for a moment because it meant he got to spend some time alone with her while the team was out on a busy mission.

“Penny for your thoughts, Robin,” Starbeam said, looking up again.

“Just trying to remember how many dates you two have been on,” Jason said.

Stars blinked and scrunched her eyebrows in thought. “Like… three,” she said. “We only do stuff every-so-often when we’re not busy and only two of those really counted as dates, I think.” She dug into her pocket and pulled an actual penny out. Laying it flat on her palm, she used her powers to gently float it towards him. He took it from the air. “There. Now you’ll have good luck,” she said decisively.

Maybe, but not with you, Jason thought.

^^^^^

September 14, 9:30PM

“WHOO! GO CONNER!” I shouted, jumping up and down in the bleachers. Normally I’d never been a fan of football, but I was having fun cheering for Conner. M’gann was disguised as a normal human girl beside me. We were both cheering. She’d morphed her face to be our high school’s colors and everyone kept complimenting her on her face paint. We just giggled about it once the people left.

Conner caught the football—I think he played as a receiver?—and started taking off down the field toward the endzone.

Our whole side of the stands erupted into cheers, M’gann and I shrieking and cheering. “Go Conner!” I shouted while M’gann whooped. He could probably hear us with his enhanced hearing, but if he did, he didn’t make any sign.

The girl standing in front of us in the student section turned around. “Boyfriend?” she asked me curiously.

I made a face. “Not exactly,” I said.

“But they’re so close!” M’gann supplied.

“Megan!” I protested.

She ignored me.

Conner crossed into the endzone seconds before the buzzer went off to signal the end of the game.

The whole crowd shouted and cheered and shrieked. M’gann and I jumped up and down as the band played the fight song.

“Oh man!” I exclaimed. “We trashed those Gotham Acad preps!”

M’gann laughed. “Careful. Rob and Wing both go or went there,” she teased.

I waved my hand dismissively. “Pffft! Who cares! It’s high school sports!” I shouted over the screaming crowd.

We made our way with the flood of the student section down onto the field.

“Conner! Conner!” I shouted, peering over heads to try and find him. Why did I have to be so short? “Conner!”

Someone’s arms snagged me from behind and scooped me up. “We won!” Conner exclaimed. I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck just in case he dropped me—which he wouldn’t, but it was a habit.

“Great job, Kon,” I said with a grin.

He set my feet on the ground and dipped me back over his leg. When he leaned down, I reached up and slid my fingers into his—sweaty—hair and brought his face down to mine.

Not a bad first kiss.

^^^^^

Jason watched from the other side of the field—the visiting side—as Conner Kent, football team superstar, lifted Starbeam over his head like she weighed nothing before setting her down, bending her low over his leg, and kissing her.

Jason felt his heart break a little. Dick, who was standing next to him, didn’t even notice. Just chuckled and sighed. “Hooooo. Welp. What can I say? We deserved that,” Dick said. He stood up and moved to head down the bleachers. “I'm going to go congratulate Conner. Wanna come with me?” He gave Jason a look.

“I’ll come say hi,” Jason muttered, following his older brother down the stands and onto the field. They both jumped the railing that separated the field from the track wrapped around it and jogged across the field to the home team’s celebration.

“Conner! Hey Conner!” Dick shouted, ducking under some crazed student’s arm to make it to where Kon, Stars, and M’gann were all celebrating. “Congratulations on the win!”

“Thanks Grayson,” Conner said. Jason broke through the crowd at that moment and gave Stars an awkward smile. She smiled back, friendly as always. Conner’s arm was around her waist and he was smiling bigger than Jason had ever seen him smile.

^^^^^

September 15, 4:57PM

“You look incredible, Stars,” Conner said as I emerged from my room in my homecoming dress.

“Thanks. M’gann helped me pick out the dress,” I said, straightening my skirt a little.

“It looks nice on you,” Conner said. He offered me his elbow the same way he had when we went on our first unofficial date to the movie in the summer. “Shall we?” I took his elbow with a grin.

“We shall,” I said.

We headed into town to go to dinner before the homecoming dance.

Conner did everything right. He opened doors for me, pulled out my chair, chivalrously ordered for me after I told him what I decided on. He’d come a long way since June when he didn’t know whether or not to escort me to the movie. I was proud of him.

Dinner went well, and then we headed to the school for the dance.

“Oh my gosh! Are you two together now?” one of the girls in my English class asked.

“Nope. Just going to the dance together,” I said. Conner and I slipped away from her and into the crowd.

“Why are we doing this again?” Conner asked quietly. “Dances are not my thing.”

“No, but we have to have some normal high school activities. Pretend we live normal lives,” I said.

“I play football. Isn’t that enough?”

“No. Football players are almost expected to be the guys that go to every dance with a different girl every time. Unless they’re dating someone exclusively.”

“But I don’t want to take any other girl to another dance and I’m not dating anyone.”

I laughed. “Then you don’t have to. I'm just pointing out what high school football players tend to do in our culture.”

Conner looked thoughtful.

The song changed to a really loud one that nearly knocked me off my feet. I used my powers to bend some of the soundwaves around us just enough that it wasn’t so loud. We danced with our friends and I found myself having a lot of fun.

When a slow song came on, I showed Kon how to slow dance. He was clumsy and awkward, but once he got the hang of it he did well. I grinned and giggled.

On the way back to Mt. Justice, Conner scooped me up and flew me back when we were certain no one would see us. We’d walked there since I didn’t want to ruin my hair but didn’t care on the way home.

When we touched down at the entrance, I bit my lower lip. “Thank you, Conner,” I said. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too. The pleasure was all mine.”

We stood there awkwardly, not entirely sure what to do.

Conner leaned forward, pecked my cheek, and disappeared down the hall.

^^^^^

October 14, 7:26PM

“Happy birthday, Starbeam,” Robin said, holding out a small wrapped package.

“Robin! You didn’t have to get me anything,” I said, trying not to accept it.

Robin pushed it closer to me. “Please. Just accept it. It’s nothing major.”

I opened it—and beamed. “Oh my goodness. Thank you! My copy was falling apart at the bindings!”

“I, uh, I know. I saw you reading it in the common room a few weeks ago.”

“But I didn’t tell anyone when my birthday is,” I pointed out.

Robin shrugged. “Batman trained me,” he said.

I laughed. “Fair enough.” I gave Robin a hug. “Thank you, Robin.”

M’gann appeared. “Wait?! Is it your birthday?!” she demanded. I nodded sheepishly. “OH MY GOODNESS! Why didn’t you tell me?! How old are you today?!”

“Sixteen,” I said.

“Congratulations! Sixteen is an important milestone for humans isn’t it?”

“In theory? In America I guess,” I said. “It’s called your Sweet Sixteen but I’ve never known why. There’s really nothing special about it.”

“Well, congratulations anyway. That’s wonderful!”

“Thanks M’gann,” I said.

“We should all go out and get some ice cream or something.”

“Uh… I'm really good staying here.”

“There might be some ice cream in the freezer,” Robin supplied.

M’gann, looking interested, skedaddled to the kitchen. I turned back to Robin. “Thanks,” I said. “M’gann is a great girl but her enthusiasm really drains me sometimes.” Robin nodded and shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No problem,” he said, a little smile on his face.

11 notes · View notes