Some sneak peak Shockwave/Soundwave x Reader
“Why is your chest so big?” you asked, your voice loud in the quiet hum of machines.
Shockwave paused. His head tilted a fraction. “My chassis is standard for a Cybertronian of my frame class and function. It houses necessary components. It is a normal size.”
“And your legs are very long.”
“My leg length provides stability and efficient stride. It is a normal size.”
“Is it very hot in here?" you said, though the temperature was constant.
“My internal temperature is regulated at an average 37.8 degrees Celsius. It has not deviated.” He turned his head slightly, his single optic regarding you. “Your statements are contradictory to sensor data. Is your own thermal regulation system malfunctioning?”
You didn’t answer. You just kept looking at him. At the sheer, solid mass of him. He wasn’t elegant like a seeker. He was a fortress. A machine built for pure function. And he had brought you here. He gave you things. He didn’t ask for anything. It made no sense.
Shockwave turned back to his console. His internal sensors reported a minor, illogical spike in his core temperature. 38.1 degrees. He ran a diagnostic. No malfunctions. The cause was unclear. He noted the anomaly and filed it. Yet, the spike persisted. A faint, warm hum in his circuitry that had no source in his work. He found his focus drifting for 0.3 seconds to the sound of your fingers tapping on a keyboard in the next room. Illogical. He resumed his calculations, but the warmth remained.
Soundwave went about his routines. He left for shifts on the Nemesis, returning with the faint smell of ship's fuel and ozone. He would immediately check on his cassettes, then on you. He'd bring you energon. He'd sometimes place a small datachip next to you, a curated packet of the day's most significant intercepts, or a puzzle-logic game he'd found in the archives. He never demanded you look at it. He just left it there.
The cassettes warmed up to you slowly, which meant they mostly ignored you until they decided not to.
Ravage began sleeping near you, sharing the warmth. Frenzy once tossed a small, twisted bit of scrap metal at your head. You caught it without looking and tossed it back, hitting him in the chest. He grinned, and scampered off. Rumble started leaving little "gifts" by your station, some shiny washer, pieces of colorful wire.
Laserbeak would sometimes land on the console near you and tilt its head, its red optic whirring softly as if studying you.
You still didn't do anything. But you started noticing things. The way Soundwave meticulously calibrated the comms array every morning. The way he had a specific place for every tool. The way he would gently nudge Ravage to a cleaner spot on the heating plate. The way he listened to the cassette' arguing, his head tilted, before giving a single, silent nod that somehow settled the argument.
He was running a household. A weird, silent, cassette-filled household. And he was good at it.
