You really hooked me with your jazzprowl fic idea . Are you planning to keep going with it or make the story itself? It's just that I liked it way too much
I can't guarantee it will ever be written, as idk what my brain has in-store for fic ideas. But, there is a chance I might write it up as the story does match the type of fic I want to write next.
I'm glad you enjoy it! Jazzprowl is currently taking over my brain lol
I would’ve like to make a smelly-cringy-otaku!Prowl x handsome-charismatic-singer!Jazz humanformers au unfortunately I figured out in horror that Prowl would be way too similar to someone that impacted my life in a very bad way
Relationship: Jazz/Prowl; Mature
Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Mech Preg, Established Relationship
Summary: In one universe, Jazz and Prowl are doting conjunxes with twins on the way. They could not be happier and more in love. In another universe, Jazz and Prowl hate each other. They cannot be in the same room without it imploding. A momentary blip in the spacetime continuum results in a short chance encounter between the two pairs that will have lasting repercussions.
Chapter 4 Below:
[Chapter Four]
Prowl woke up feeling as though he had been turned inside out. The first thing he noticed was a throbbing helm-ache that made it so opening his optics was nearly impossible. He grimaced and tried rubbing his face in a naive effort to assuage his helm, but he froze when he realized he was enclosed. Panic quickly set in. Where was he?
Acting brashly at this point in time could be fatal. Lying still, he turned up his audials and doorwing sensors to their highest sensitivities. Only the typical whirring and buzz of faraway machines could be heard. No nearby sparks could be detected through his sensors. Relief filled him. Wherever he was, he was 93% sure that he was alone and not at risk of immediate attack.
Regaining his mobility was his first objective. An unknown soft material cocooned him. He gracelessly began to thrash around, aiming to free himself. It appeared he had been close to a ledge because the next thing he knew he fell a short distance and crashed onto the floor. Freed from his rather weak restrains, he quickly jumped to his pedes, alert to his surroundings.
He was dumbfounded when he was met with the sight of his habsuite.
The restraints he had been so eager to break out of had just been an obscene amount of blankets. Prowl might have felt embarrassed by the fact that he had treated such an everyday item as though it had personally wronged him, but his processor was too caught up on the fact that he didn't own any blankets.
Why were they here?
As a matter of fact, his normally clean and organized room was in a state of absolute disrepair. All of his carefully curated possessions had been replaced by clutter.
Pillows and blankets of various colors were piled up into an ugly mound of fabric on his berth. Various posters of questionable taste hung on his walls. Shelves that had beautifully organized his most frequented datapads in alphabetical order according to subject now housed a random assortment of junk. There was a cube of what appeared to be tampered energon on his berthside table. If so, that had to be the world's most pathetic attempt at assassination via poison.
He sincerely doubted that anybody would be that incompetent, so the next most obvious answer for who was to blame for this mess was the Terror Twins. They were the only ones bold enough to even attempt something like this.
By Primus, he was going to throttle them.
It wasn't enough that they continued to wreck havoc on base premises with their little pranks, leaving him to deal with obscene amounts of paperwork, they also had the audacity to encroach on his personal living space. He immediately opened his comms, ready to give them the verbal lashing of a lifetime. Several kliks passed without response.
Messages popped up on his HUD:
[(1) OUTGOING CALL TO "SUNSTREAKER OF KAON— FRONT LINE INFANTRY/ SPEC OPS" FAILED. NO SIGNAL FOUND.]
[(1) OUTGOING CALL TO "SIDESWIPE OF KAON—FRONT LINE INFANTRY/SPEC OPS" FAILED. NO SIGNAL FOUND.]
Cowards.
Prowl rushed out his room. The Twins were naive if they thought something as simple as turning off their comms would save them from his wrath.
He marched down the hallways already compiling a list of plausible offenses for his write up: trespassing, conspiracy against a commanding officer, hacking base locks, potential robbery, and vandalism. A little part of him hoped the Twins were skipping out on their punishment detail, so he could add "failure to fulfill disciplinary measures" to his report.
Sharply turning a corner, Prowl managed to just barely avoid crashing into Blaster.
"Prowl! Oh Primus! I am so sorry about that. Are you alright? Should I comm Ratchet?" Blaster asked with wide optics.
He was momentarily caught off-guard with the genuine, but admittedly overblown, concern emanating from the other bot. He knew that Blaster was a rather friendly mech, but their relationship had only ever been professionally cordial. Besides, they had not even scratched the other.
"I am fine. I hardly think this is worthy of Ratchet's attention." Waving it off, he remembered what his current objective was. "Do you happen to know the current whereabouts of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe?"
"Last I saw they were lounging around in the hangar. Why? Did you need something?"
Prowl felt his previous anger return as he remembered the mess they had created in his room. "Those two thought it would be a funny idea to lay waste to my personal quarters. I intend to show them just how much I enjoyed their little joke."
Blaster looked surprised. "Really? I thought they had sworn to leave you alone for the time being so as to not stress you out."
"There has not been a single orn since their enlistment that they have not been a continual source of annoyance." He hissed.
Blaster flinched at the venom in his tone. "Oh…I'm sorry to hear that?" Curiously, the mech's optics fell and seemed to survey his frame. "Say, have you been fueling as often as you should?"
"Excuse me?" Prowl asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Well, I'm no expert, but Ratchet said that consistent fueling is important for somebody so far along."
This conversation had very quickly taken an unexpected turn. He was no stranger to others questioning his fueling habits. But those concerns came from Ratchet, who was a medic, or Optimus, who was his superior. Both were well aware of his less than stellar habits and actually had an invested interest in his well-being.
But Blaster? They barely even interacted outside of duty-related activities.
Furthermore, what did "somebody so far along" even mean in this context? Was it because of his rank? Was this an awkward gesture of concern from a worried subordinate?
Unable to piece anything together, Prowl felt like he was being taken for a fool. "I don't see how my fueling habits are any of your concern." He said with optics narrowed in suspicion.
Prowl saw the other bot's optics dim for a moment, a possible sign that he was accessing his internal comms. It was not unheard of for the Twins to employ others in their pranks. In that moment, he realized that Blaster's supposed demonstrations of concern could have been feigned for the purposes of throwing him off the Twins' trail. That wouldn't do.
He pointed an accusing finger, voice taking on a threatening edge. "Blaster! If I find out you were a part of their scatterbrained mischief, I will gladly write you up as their accomplice. You'll be scrubbing the walls alongside them for orns to come. And forget about even blasting your music throughout!"
Blaster's jaw dropped.
Turning around, Prowl hastened to make it to the hangar and intercept the two. From the other end of the hall, he could hear Blaster cry out,"Wait! Prowl! Slow down! You might hurt yourself."
Indignation filled his energon lines. Despite what many believed, he wasn't fragile. Though he was rarely stationed in active combat due to his appointment in tactics, he, like everybody else, had seen his own fair share of fighting throughout the course of the war. Besides, it seemed to coincidentally skip everybody's processors that he had previously been an enforcer before any of them had even held a blaster. Granted his position in the Mechaforensics Department meant he was rarely called for active threats, but he was trained all the same.
Approaching the hangar, he slammed the door open. Optics honed in to see a red twin and a yellow twin lounging about.
Sideswipe gave him a cheery smile and waved. "Prowl! It's good to see you. How's it going? How are you feeling?"
Sunstreaker gave a small polite nod.
Had they no shame?
"That's Commander Prowl to you," he said through gritted dentae. "Do either of you want to explain why you deemed it appropriate to make an absolute mess in my habsuite?"
Confusion marred both of their faces as they shared a glance with the other. They were no doubt communicating via their shared bond, trying to come up with some sort of cover story to bypass disciplinary action.
It seemed that Sideswipe had been chosen as their spokesperson. "We're not sure we follow?"
"Don't feign ignorance! I know this is payback for your most recent punishment detail."
The Twins shared another quick glance with the other. "I mean it took us forever, but looking back, its kind of hilarious. Didn't think you had it in you." Sunstreaker responded.
Prowl could feel his anger reaching a boiling point. Could these two take nothing seriously? No matter what he did, no matter how many punishment details or hours in the brig he assigned, he seemed incapable of cracking discipline into their dense helms.
"Stand up! Since you two made the mess you are cleaning it!" He seethed.
The Twins were momentarily still.
"Stand up, or I'll drag you there myself!"
That got a reaction out of them since they quickly jumped to their pedes. Optical ridges were creased in what seemed to be a combination of concern and shock.
"Okay, okay! Just take it easy Prowl. Stress isn't good for you." Sideswipe quickly stammered out.
"You should have thought about that beforehand," Prowl snapped. He was not in the mood to deal with his sarcasm at the moment.
With a small wave of his servo, Prowl ordered them to follow. He marched out of the hangar, leading the Twins back to his quarters. It seemed they at least had the good sense not to repudiate. On his way, he stopped by a cleaning supplies closet, quickly crouching down and reaching up to gather the appropriate supplies.
"Hey! Prowl! Come on, take it easy."
He chose to ignore their lack of formalities for the moment and pushed a random assortment of supplies into their servos, slamming the door behind him.
"I don't think this is good for—"
"Will you two quiet down! You are not getting out of this."
Finally arriving at his habsuite, he opened the door and ordered the two inside. "You have exactly 30 breems. This room better be spotless by the end. I better be able to see my reflection on the walls, and I expect all my possessions to be returned to their exact locations. And do not even think about tampering with anything else or so help me you do not even want to know what punishment I will conjure up." The door slammed shut.
Short of having to deal with an unexpected Decepticon invasion, a throbbing helm-ache and the Twins' antics were the worst way to start an orn. Rubbing his temples with his servos, he let out a deep and heavy sigh in an effort to regain some sense of control. Taking a look at his chronometer, he winced at the realization that he was late to today's meeting. Ironhide would never let him hear the end of it.
Unsubspacing his personal datapad, he quickly reviewed the orn's agenda as he made his way to the meeting room. It would do no good to show up late and unprepared. He opened the door and was rewarded to an empty room.
While he wasn't entirely shocked that some commanders—like Wheeljack and Ironhide—would take his tardiness as an excuse to take their leave, he was surprised to see that not even Optimus and Red Alert had managed to exercise their patience.
Alone in the room, he let out a heavy groan at the fact that it had seemingly only taken a couple breems to dissuade the entirety of High Command from seeing today's meeting through. And they wondered why they had yet to win the war?
Prowl resigned himself to heading straight to his office, mentally shifting schedules and timelines to accommodate the orn's cancelled meeting. He would just have to schedule another one. However, upon entering his office's access code he was met with a baffling message:
[PASSWORD INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.]
Perhaps he had accidentally missed a number. His subsequent attempt yielded the same message.
[PASSWORD INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.]
As did the next…
[PASSWORD INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.]
and the next.
[PASSWORD INCORRECT. ACCESS DENIED.]
Prowl rested his helm lightly against the wall in frustration. This had to be the worst start to an orn ever.
"Prowl? Is something wrong? Do you require assistance?"
Quickly straightening his posture and rebuilding his poise, he turned and came fact-to-face with Red Alert, who was just the mech he needed to see. And while he had half a processor to reprimand him for the missed meeting, he had a more pressing matter to address.
"Yes, as a matter of fact I do. I have been trying to access my office, but all of my attempts have been denied. Is there a base-wide systems update that I was not made aware of?"
Red Alert looked at him perplexed. "Ratchet determined it would be best to eliminate your access to your workstation for your own well-being."
"Excuse me?" Prowl could feel his dentae grinding against each other. That damn medic just did not know how to mind his own business. He had been prattling him nonstop to stop by the Medbay for an appointment, but Prowl was busy, and he felt fine.
"Then Ratchet will be happy to know that I feel fine and am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, so if you could please renew my access, that would be greatly appreciated."
"Sorry, but Ratchet's suggestion was endorsed by Prime, so you'll have to take it up with him. But, as you know, he's not here. And due to an obvious conflict of interest, you cannot go down the usual chain of command. But that aside, I think it is best for you all to just wait it out. Not much longer if I remember correctly." Red Alert responded warmly.
While Prowl should have been angry that Optimus had seen it fit to lock him out of his duties without discussion, he was more concerned by the Prime's absence.
"Optimus isn't here?"
"Has Jazz not been keeping you updated? We are uncertain when he will return, but we have received notification that everything is progressing smoothly."
Prowl froze at the mention of the Third-in-Command's designation. It was bad enough that Optimus had left without telling him, but it stung to know that he had instead chosen to confide in the disrespectful saboteur. Rather than focusing on the sting, he instead channeled his anger towards the impertinent spy.
"No, Jazz had not shared that with me." He replied with clenched servos.
Red Alert looked surprised at that piece of information. "He probably did not mean to stress you out. We know you don't like waiting around helplessly," he replied sympathetically.
He almost snorted at the concept that Jazz had held any benevolence in his silence. It was much more likely that, like always, the spy had chosen to forgo proper procedures in favor of taking matters into his own servos.
"Red Alert, I do not care what Jazz's reasons for omitting information are or what Ratchet and Optimus said, you will grant me access to my office."
"I'm sorry Prowl, but I really do think it is for the best for all of you to listen to Ratchet's expertise."
Between all of the morning orn's mishaps and the knowledge that Optimus had left without warning, which meant that Prowl had been unable to oversee the Prime's itinerary, he was at his breaking point. Only because it was Red Alert, who he actually found to be one of the more tolerable commanding officers, did Prowl try to limit the bitterness that would surely leak into his words.
"The Prime is gone, which means that, per the established chain of command, I am currently responsible for overseeing this base, which I cannot do without access to my office."
Red Alert looked at him in doubt. "Actually, responsibility over the base currently falls to—"
"Red Alert!" Prowl snapped, having finally reached the end of his already frayed patience. Too much time had already been spent on dealing with inane interruptions due the the incompetence of others. "I don't care what channels you have to go through, but I am telling you that you will restore my office access."
Red Alert looked hesitant for a second, but whatever expression was on his face must have finally moved him to action. "Alright…just give me a klik." Optics dimmed as Red Alert got in communication with somebody. As Prowl waited, he saw Red Alert throw him worried glances every couple kliks.
"Okay, you should be good to go."
Prowl stepped forward and entered his code, internally feeling relieved when the usual message appeared:
[Password Correct. Access Granted]
Never in his life did Prowl think he would be so happy to hear the sounds of pistons as the door unlocked. "Thank you," he spat out, more out of maintaining decorum than actual gratefulness for aid in resolving a problem that never should have existed in the first place.
"Of course." Red Alert nodded his helm as he placed a servo on his shoulder, which caused Prowl to immediately stiffen. Did nobody in the damn Autobot army know how to conduct themselves professionally?
He shot Red Alert a glare, hoping that would be enough to prompt the offending servo's removal.
"Prowl, is something wrong?" Red Alert asked urgently as he quickly removed his servo.
He felt his temper flare. "The Twins completely defaced my habsuite. Ratchet decided to proceed with an authorization that I did not give him my permission to pursue. Jazz, in all his infamous wisdom, saw it fit to withhold information about our leader's whereabouts. And I just had to grapple with my own security director over access to my own office, and you have the audacity to ask if something is wrong?!"
Red Alert's face shifted into a hurt expression. "We just don't want you to push yourself like you usually do. It's never good for you, but especially not right now."
A deranged laugh almost escaped him. "What a lovely sentiment!" He turned his back on Red Alert and sneered, "If only you did not all seem hellbent on standing in my way at every step."
As the door shut behind him, he took a couple kliks to get his temper under control. He let doorwings sag behind him and rubbed his face.
Deep in-vent.
Deep ex-vent.
He rolled his helm and shoulders and fell back on his straight and proud posture. He was finally ready to tackle on the orn's workload. Enough time had already been wasted.
His top priority was to get in contact with Optimus. In the safety of his office, he could admit that the Prime leaving without asking for any of his counsel and without any notification unnerved him. Pit, he was shocked that Prime had not extended an invitation! These were not unreasonable expectations to have as Prime's Second-in-Command.
He was just about to start plugging into his workstation when he overheard his office's internal system announce:
[AUTHORIZED SPECIAL CODE INPUTTED; ENTRANCE GRANTED TO "SECOND-IN-COMMAND & HEAD OF SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMANDER JAZZ".]
And immediately, he felt a deep-seated rage bubble to the surface. The Twin's intruding in his habsuite was nothing compared to the absolute transgression that was the saboteur messing with his office. He could not decide what was worse—the blatant disrespect or the audacity.
Though his anger tended to be blinding, this particular bout was clarifying.
All of the day's mishaps snapped together to reveal a clear image. All potentially united by a singular designation.
Situation 1: The Twins had ruined his habsuite. How had they gained entry into his habsuite? Easy. Jazz was by far the best hacker the Autobot ranks had to offer. He could easily undermine Red Alert's security defenses. Plus, as Spec Ops agents under his jurisdiction, the Twins could easily be swayed or encouraged by their commander in their mischief.
Situation 2: Blaster had behaved with faux concern. Why? Most likely answer: He was somebody's accomplice. The mech was best friends with Jazz. He would have gladly helped to get Prowl off his tail.
Situation 3: Ratchet had barred him from his workstation. Why? As the Third-in-Command, Jazz's suggestion to do so could have pushed Ratchet in his authorization. This connection was admittedly weaker than the rest but still plausible.
Situation 4: Per Red Alert's own admission, Jazz had been directly informed of Optimus's temporary departure from the base. Prowl never received such information despite the fact that he would be the presiding commander in his absence. This meant that Jazz had willingly omitted information that could be detrimental to normal base operations, which was grounds for negligence of duties.
Situation 5: Somebody had accessed and tampered with his office's mainframe. Who? The only saboteur arrogant enough to leave his designation as proof: Jazz.
The door opened, revealing the true culprit to all of the last joor's setbacks.
The saboteur confidently strode in with a smile on his face.
And how Prowl absolutely detested that grin. While the rest of the army might be fooled, thinking that it was simply a marker of amicability, Prowl saw it for the disguise that it was. A marker of somebody who would yield to the court of public opinion rather than that of duty.
Despite the bright blue visor staring straight at him, all Prowl saw was shades of red.
I am horribly allergic to both Megatron and MegOp. (Then again I am also allergic to cats and I pet em anyway) So, if this dream sequence is going where I think it's going (with your trackrecord, probably not) i'll be mentally shriveling up alongside Jazz and Prowl in the following chapters. This is a good thing👍
Seriously tho, I love your writing and i'll be reading the shit out of this story til the bitter end.
heheheheheheeeeh. I think whatever happens next will be pallatable no matter what spectrum you lay on with Megop. just like I hope last chap was okay even if you love constructiprowl (because I love it too lol).
It helps that its all dreams, you can interpret what's to come in a number of ways XD And read it as serious or satire XD
That fic where Jazz goes dreamwalking because he's petty as hell and going through some stuff and decides he's going to terrorize everyone that he's felt has wronged him on that particular day. (Ie all of Autobot high command)
This chapter: Nothing important happens. Though Bonecrusher can sing soprano now.
