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[revelboo]

Skin and Bones

Megatron x reader-Pet

• Megatron has no real idea where you came from. There’s just a human in the base now. He’s seen the Seekers carrying you around. In Skywarp’s case, upside down by your legs while you cling to his servos, face red. Nope. He has enough problems without this too, so the stray human the Seekers found isn’t going to be dealt with. It’s ignored.

• You gave up on escape attempts from the kidnapping giant robots after managing to squeeze yourself through the slats on a vent grate while unsupervised and getting hopelessly lost. You’d crawled without direction for hours, slowly sliding from uneasy, to concerned, to bawling because dying in a vent that you chose to go into with no real plan is that stupid.

• It’s hours before you’re missed and takes even longer for the Seekers to annoy Soundwave into figuring out what happened and where you are. You’re dragged out by a leg by a very annoyed Frenzy and you don’t even resist or bother trying to get free to at least walk on your own. Your dignity can take the hit, because you really thought you were going to die in the vents like a particularly dumb, escaped hamster.

• Now you have a constant babysitter, because they’ve decided you’re probably dumb enough to try it again. And yeah, you probably do need to try to escape the Decepticons, but for giant, evil aliens, they’re not that bad. Except Skywarp. He’s an absolute, feral menace.

• And it’s not just the Seekers anymore. After your humiliating rescue, Soundwave has now decided you’re his pet, too. Or maybe because you’re small, he’s just decided to adopt you like a squishy, particularly helpless casseticon. You have no idea, but they’re never going to let the vent incident go. Ever. That’s you now.

• It’s been months since Megatron last saw one of the Seekers toting the human around, he’d mostly forgotten all about. Up until Soundwave enters with the thing clutched in a servo. At least, he thinks it’s probably the same one. Who knows? He still has zero interest in dealing with that situation and as long as there’s not multiple humans loose, he’s not.

• Except when he commands Soundwave to go on a reconnaissance excursion, the stoic mech hesitates. And looks down at the human curiously looking around the space. Then he just sets the thing down on the arm of his chair before leaving. Not asking if Megatron could or would watch it.

• And it just stares after Soundwave with something funnily like horrified betrayal before silently slumping in place. Annoyance lifts through him and he grumbles under his breath, the growl making it glance back at him before hunkering down to try and make itself even smaller. As if he’d forget it’s there.

• Maybe they finally got tired of you, because Soundwave just plunked you down with the big bad. Megatron. Starscream’s favorite flavor of angry ranting. So you try to be as small and inconspicuous as possible while wondering if you should just fling yourself off the giant chair and hope the fall gets you, because as terrifying as the Seekers are most of the time, what you’ve heard about this alien? He’s definitely going to murder you. Slowly.

• Except, he just vents softly and resumes reading a giant tablet of crazy, alien gibberish. Alright. Good. Scooting yourself closer to the edge, you lean out and try to decide if there’s any chance of climbing down. A low growl of annoyance and a big servo nudges you back into the middle of your perch. And you freeze again because those angry, red optics are staring a hole in you.

• Huffing to himself, he curls his servos loosely around the human to keep it from jumping headfirst off his chair. He can feel the warmth of it and the frantic beat of its heart as it braces a tiny palm on his and looks up at him in question, which he ignores. It’s not like he cares about the squishy thing. He doesn’t, but he isn’t interested in the mess it’d make splatting on the floor. That’s all.

• He certainly doesn’t watch its little head nodding off or feel anything at all when it lays its cheek against his scarred palm like it’s not terrified of him and drops into its organic recharge in his hand. And he pretends he wasn’t running a single servo down its spine when Soundwave returns for it. Ignores the look from his old friend, too.

• He doesn’t care about the human, but he supposes Soundwave can leave you with him when no one else can watch you. He doesn’t care.

[revelboo]

Circuits and Wires

Wheeljack x reader- lab accident

• Honestly, you’re not even sure how you became Wheeljack’s ‘lab partner.’ It wasn’t exactly by choice. The halls of the Autobot base aren’t exactly the safest or human friendliest. It’s not like any of them are openly hostile, but you’re tiny and they sometimes just don’t notice you.

• And for soldiers millions of years old, some of them act amazingly like a bunch of wound up frat boys. Alt mode races in the halls? That’s a thing. You heard the engines and flattened yourself against a closed door, praying. What you weren’t expecting was Wheeljack’s lab door to open and for you to fall backwards in. Those vocal indicator fins on the sides of his head had always been a bit funny to you and you offer him an upside down, slightly embarrassed smile as those panels flicker a dull yellow. As soon as he noticed the roar of approaching engines, he’d huffed out a sound remarkably like a sigh, picked you up and carried you to his workbench. You’d sat down crosslegged and watched him work. When he’d realized you were watching, he’d started explaining what he was doing.

• With nothing better to do, you showed up the next day and the day after. In truth, you’re more of a sounding board for the engineer to talk his way around and through ideas. And your dutiful job is to bob your head like you have any clue what he’s rambling about and ask questions occasionally.

• Wheeljack isn’t sure what to make of you, but appreciates the company. You seem interested in his theories and, most importantly, don’t avoid him. It’s not like his reputation isn’t unearned, but all of his inventions don’t blow up in his face. Some of them do.

• A lot of them.

• And apparently some of the Autobots, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, had taken to calling you ‘hazard pay.’ And learning that there was a running bet on how long until Wheeljack accidentally had something fail so catastrophically that you’re blown to kingdom come hadn’t been exactly comforting to you or Wheeljack.

• But sitting on the workbench with the friendly mech is surprisingly soothing. You didn’t really have any delusions of learning engineering from him, that was so far outside your skill set it was hilarious. But you do like listening to him talk with that faint accent and soft, almost raspy voice. He’s an awkward sort and his humor never quite lands, but you smile for him anyway because then those panel flicker pink or orange.

• You’re almost asleep, lulled by his low muttering. He’s been fiddling with whatever it was he was making since you’d arrived that morning and eventually you’d need to remind him to go refuel, because he would forget and regularly did. But he’d take you to find food and refuel if nudged. You’d long gotten over the mild embarrassment of being carried around like a kitten by him. Some of the Autobots would let you hitch a ride on their shoulders and that was better than walking. Wheeljack carried you cupped between his palms like he thought you might decide to launch yourself out of his hands in a mad bid for freedom just to go splat. You tried not to be offended about it.

• “Oops.” Head lifting, you stare at him as his vocal indicators flicker a sickly green. An oops from him could mean anything from ‘I broke it and need to start over’ to ‘run for the hills.’ Given how still he is, your heart begins to hammer in your chest. This is the latter and dread spirals through you. Know it even before his blue optics slide your way.

• Time seems to go funny as he lunges, hand swiping at you and connecting hard enough to knock the air from your lungs. Hard enough to hurt. And then he’s running, his servos painfully tight around you and there’s a very real worry he’ll break your ribs by accident.

• Behind you, his mystery invention that you really wish you’d paid more attention to blows up. Spectacularly. And then he’s falling forward and you know you’re about to be crushed and worst of all? Sunstreaker is going to win his stupid bet.

• Instead, Wheeljack catches himself on his other hand, huge frame curled forward to shield you as he cradles you in that too-tight grip against his chassis. A dull roar fills your head, everything muffled as you hear his frantic voice.

• He took the brunt of the explosion and had to be hurt, but he’s asking if you’re okay. He’s scared for you and it takes your stunned brain a minute before you can reassure him without bawling, because of this sweet, accident-prone mech that must be protected at all costs even if he is still gripping you so tight you can’t hardly breathe.

[revelboo]

Seeker headcannons

• Seekers are cats.

• You don’t dare voice that idea, but once that intrusive thought occurs to you, there’s no forgetting it. It’s living rent free in your in your head and, honestly, the Seekers are just reinforcing it.

Starscream

• You think you’re going to get some work done? Yeah, sorry. Not today. He’s perfectly happy doing his own thing most of the time and ignoring the hell out of you, but when he wants attention? Doesn’t matter what you’re doing, you will drop everything and listen to him. Right now.

• If you agree with him once, that’s it. It takes a minute for it to sink in for him when you don’t contradict him but tell him he’s right. You’re actually listening to him? He goes from flabbergasted to yes, of course. Someone with common sense. Finally. You’re his human now. He adopted you.

Skywarp

• Deliberately causes problems for you and watches the ensuing chaos so he can savor your misery like it’s his favorite vintage. Something is broken? You didn’t do it, but it will somehow still be blamed on you. And you know it was him, because it’s always him. You’re just doing your thing, look up, and he’s there, that sly smirk on his face as he uses a servo to slowly push something breakable off a flat surface while maintaining an uncomfortable amount of eye contact. Don’t waste your breath trying to stop him.

• Sneaking suspicion that he’d bite for absolutely no reason if he thought he could get away with it. You’re right. He would.

Thundercracker

• Almost as bad as Starscream about attention, but without the demands. You turn around and he’s just there. Wants to hang out on his terms, but doesn’t want to make a big deal of it.

• Brings you presents. All of it weird, useless, or likely stolen. Usually all three, but he tries. Never directly gives it to you, it just shows up. You’re amassing a collection of garbage and know you should put a stop to it, but it’s kind of cute and harmless, right?

[revelboo]

Bad Idea

TFP Soundwave x reader- encounter in the woods

• There are times when you just need to get away. Reset your frame of mind. Those are hiking days. Nothing helps get your mind off work better than getting as far from other humans as possible and the woods are quiet.

• Mostly. You hear the noise first- a staticky, humming whine that sets your teeth on edge and sends a flush of goosebumps up your arms. It’s almost like the hum of a speaker left on without any music and you can feel it in your bones as an uncomfortable thrum. Caution never was your strong suit. Curiosity, though?

• Everything had gone sideways. Another recon ruined by that wrecker, leaving Soundwave to limp away and nurse his wounds. Blank visor tipping up, he watches Lazerbeak circling. Can feel the thread of worry from the drone as it keeps a lookout in case Wheeljack was following. He doubts the Autobot would bother. As raw as he feels, the wrecker had been worse. Much worse.

• He can feel energon bleeding down his side to get into joints and he catalogs the injuries one by one. It’s only willpower keeping him moving. That and the very real threat of being captured by the enemy. Stopping to let his subroutines deal with the damage isn’t an option. Too bad he doesn’t have any say in it as his legs buckle.

• You left the trail behind, picking your way through the trees toward where the noise had come from. Probably. As often as you go hiking, you’re definitely directionally challenged. You still manage to stumble on the source of the sound. Literally. You trip over a huge metal… thing. As you stagger forward and catch yourself on the rest of it, the sharp edge under your palm bites into it and you yank it back with a hiss.

• It’s big, but you have no idea what it is you’re looking at, all sharp edges and mystery. Kind of person shaped, though. Someone’s metal yard art/sculpture they’d chucked? Pulling your backpack around, you dig you a bandana and tie up your bleeding palm, eye catching on the blank, black screen on what seemed to be the thing’s head. A robot sculpture. A pointy, weird robot sculpture.

• You crouch down to study that empty screen, giving in to the urge to touch. Really, you were expecting cold plastic or glass, not for it to be warm and faintly humming under your light touch.

• Just like you don’t expect the big, metal nightmare bird thing that dive bombs you. Falling over again as you backpedal, you scream as the thing tries it’s best to gouge your eyes out. Then the robot sculpture is moving, one long arm tucking you close as your screams peter out into terrified silence, because no part of this is normal or okay. Horrible death bird-drone lights on the pointy monster’s thigh and just stares at you.

• Trying to wiggle free just tightens the arm draped over you until breathing becomes iffy and you collapse in the dry leaves and pine needles. Your escape attempts only exhaust you and aggravate the demon bird, its pointy head tilting to glare at you with a look that even with its featureless face promises a slow, agonizing death. So you give up and just lay there, playing teddy bear for the giant pointy monster and questioning your life choices.

[revelboo]

Disappear

Tarantulas x reader- seeing something you shouldn’t

• So you made one teeny, little mistake. That snowballed and reached avalanche proportions until you’re now saddled with community service to make amends. And given a choice between dealing with living humans at the nursing home or the much quieter dead ones in the local, historic cemetery, you opt for scrubbing tombstones for a few weeks. Easy.

• And it is, except for the guy. It’s an old cemetery, overgrown and stark. Most of the tombstones haven’t had flowers left in years, maybe decades. So you don’t really expect to see any other people and you nearly drop your bucket of supplies when you round a corner of the crumbling stone wall separating the newer, but still ancient, part of the cemetery from the truly ancient parts. He’s just standing there, vacant thousand yard stare into creepy space.

• The fine hair at your nape prickles as you keep moving past the guy. He doesn’t blink and his eyes don’t track you. Don’t see you. Maybe the guy comes to the graveyard to get stoned and space out. You still keep an eye on him because something about him is seriously wrong.

• There’s a human in the graveyard and Tarantulas isn’t sure what to make of it. Sure, the place is full of humans, but not the living, breathing kind. It’s why he picked the place. But now there’s a human and it’s staring at his holomatter avatar. Scrutinizing him. There are still so many bugs and he is suddenly, cripplingly sure that he hadn’t programmed breathing or blinking. Humans did that, right? A lot?They definitely didn’t phase through tombstones or go just solid enough to get stuck in those same tombstones.

• Like right then as he steers the remote avatar around to continue to watch the human.

• You didn’t believe in ghosts. That sort of silliness was strictly slated for the back of your mind with all the childish fears you’d banished long ago. Except, the creep just walked through one of the old tombstones. Sort of. Bucket of cleaning supplies thumping in the grass, your mouth falls open. Did ghosts get stuck? Cause creepy guy who might be, is definitely, a ghost seems to have a leg and his bottom half stuck inside the time worn angel bowing its head over a grave.

• Turns out, you do believe in ghosts. Very much so as you start screaming. And you know what? Spoon feeding the elderly is starting to look amazing right then.

• Scrap. Panic bubbling up, Tarantulas gives up on the blasted avatar, because there’s the very real problem of the hysterically screaming human. That awful screeching is going to draw more of them or it’ll snap out of its apparent paralysis to run screaming and still bring more humans back to investigate. Nope. He tears out of the tomb he’d sheltered in, spidery legs clawing over the grass.

• Apparently, this graveyard is just a gate straight to hell. Ghosts and cryptid nightmare fuel galore. The appearance of the big, metal spidery horror of pure nope is enough to unfreeze you and for your screaming to cut off into an almost hysterical whine. Turning to run as it tore towards you on too many legs, you trip over the bucket and go sprawling in the grass face first.

• And then, it’s webbing you up as left overs for later. Turns out you can scream much louder and you do up until the thing webs your mouth shut and hefts you under an arm like a sack of potatoes. You can still breathe through your nose and you make little panicked whining noises against your gag as you hyperventilate anyway.

• Well, the human isn’t screaming anymore. Not for lack of trying, though. Tarantulas has no idea what to do with you. Sure, there’s plenty of graves and who’s going to realize one has two occupants, not one? Slumping with a hard shudder, the human goes limp and he lifts it a bit higher, head tipping. Nope, still alive and alert, but mercifully silent. Big eyes staring at him.

• Huffing through his vents as he moves deeper into his lair, he debates. His avatar needs work and while he’d studied videos of humans over and over, he hadn’t actually studied a living one. And it wasn’t screaming anymore, just making that hitching, whining sound.

• The decision to keep you is pretty easy. After all, you’ll just run screaming to other humans if he lets you go. Can’t have that. You’re a curiosity that he fully intends to satisfy.

• You live here now. With your cryptid, horror alien spider-robot. Once you finally stop trying to sneak/run away, he’ll stop webbing you to a wall before leaving to patrol the area. He brings you things he finds, but has no concept of what’s a good gift and what’s going to send you in a panicked scurry to get away, but he tries.

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright

Starscream x reader

Even though it had been half heartedly misting rain for the last several miles, you kept the windows on your old sedan down anyway so the wind could sink icy fingers into your hair and tear at your ponytail. You needed the chill to numb the anger and stress just there under the surface.

But even with the speedometer pushing 65 on the wooded country road, there was no outrunning yourself. Or stopping yourself from dwelling on the fallout with your latest boyfriend. This time it’d been because you never made enough time for him. Like you both didn’t work crappy full time jobs.

Like it wasn’t as much his fault as yours. Hand going white knuckled on the wheel, you crank the rock and roll even higher, the thump of the bass rolling through your bones.

****

Scrap.

Turbines screaming, Starscream could feel the wound in his side pulling. Burning white hot even as he steadily lost altitude and any hope of just flying away from his pursuers. No, that wing was hanging on by a prayer to Primus and pure, unadulterated spite as he dropped even lower. His wingspan was too wide for the narrow road he found himself flying over as he dipped down below the trees and felt the tips of his wings cracking branches to rain down into the road.

Not that the debris was doing a blasted thing to deter the two Autobots in pursuit. No, Bumblebee and Jazz were right there, still firing on him as they swerved around the bigger branches.

He rolled slightly around a curve, wingtip scraping the asphalt in a spray of paint-scraping, painful sparks. They weren’t giving up the chase. Wouldn’t now that he was bleeding energon and running like a startled turbo fox. He wasn’t exactly outgunned, but he had little doubt that they’d already called in for backup.

Calling in his own? Having to beg for help even from his own trine? Weak. And weakness didn’t survive long among the Decepticon ranks. Another tight corner and then there was a car ahead on the road. For a moment, his spark constricted in almost panic, but this wasn’t another Autobot come to join the hunt. Nothing but a human.

Too low. The belly of his alt mode scraped over the roof of the car and it swerved wildly straight into the trees. That jolting contact was enough to throw him off balance, though. Transforming, his peds hit the asphalt in a graceless run as he tried to not face plant and gouge a groove in the road surface or trip into the trees.

Before he could turn, Jazz and Bumblebee had both transformed to keep firing on him. Snarling, he bared his denta at them and returned fire.

***

Your world blurred into a confusing smear of impossibility as you lifted your head and felt your heartbeat throbbing at your temple. Slumping back against your seat, you scrabbled at the seatbelt and as you register the taste of copper in your mouth for a moment you can’t remember how to undo the buckle.

There’d been a jet screaming overhead. The jarring screech of metal striking metal. Wrecking. Impossible.

The seatbelt came loose and you fumbled with the door handle until it gives and shove your way free. It’s still drizzling rain, the dampness settling over you as you stagger away to stare at your car wedged among the trees. Thunder rolls, the fine hair at your nape lifting with the noise. Except, it’s not thunder. That staccato rhythm thuds through you as you stumble out of the ditch and up onto the road.

Oh, yeah. There are giant, alien robots in the road. With guns. Head pounding, you crane your neck to just stare without comprehension. You have a concussion.

Or you hadn’t really made it out of the car. You’d brained yourself and this was the hallucination your addled mind had come up with as a consolation prize. Figures, you don’t even really like sci-fi. It was admittedly, one heck of a delusion. Staggering, you stare up at the fiery red eyes of the bigger of the imaginary head trauma robots.

***

Starscream didn’t know what was more surprising, that the Autobots had stopped trying to kill him or that the human had lived and wandered right between them. The squishy, little thing was now gaping up at him instead of doing what they usually did when confronted with Decepticons. Namely, scream, run, and die in that order.

Optics narrowing in contemplation, he lunged. The human was softer than he expected, that soft flesh giving horribly against his servos as he caught it and lifted it out in front of him. Aside from a wheezing sound halfway between a gasp and a moan, it just hung there, unresisting. Maybe broken.

All that mattered, though was that Jazz and Bumblebee had froze as he used the pathetic little thing as a surprisingly effective shield. Because the Autobots weren’t to harm organics. Especially humans. Baring his denta in a feral smile, he backed away.

“Let the human go, Starscream,” Bumblebee said, weapon still raised in threat.

An empty y threat. A laugh escaped him, smile turning nasty. “No, I don’t think so.”

He kept moving back, spark thrumming. They were going to let him go just because he’d nabbed a human with no survival instincts whatsoever. Who still was eerily quiet as they sluggishly leaked red fluid from a gash on their head. Turning on his heel, he resisted the urge to chuck the human and instead pulled it into his chassis as he transformed, pain rippling through him. There was a terrifying moment of very real fear that his wing wouldn’t hold. That he and his hostage would crash back down, but his turbines roared and he bolted.

And they still didn’t fire upon him. Because of the human leaking whatever humans were full of on his interior. If not for the very real possibilities of having a docile pet that could stall the Autobot idiots from attacking, he’d have jettisoned it and been done with it.

Instead, he brought it back with him. He kept it trapped in his cockpit as he returned to base, painfully aware of the leaking thing’s breathing accelerating. Of small hands scrabbling at his interior in panic to make his metal flesh crawl all over. It still wasn’t screaming at least as he ducked into his own quarters and locked the door after. The last thing he needed was for someone to hear the thing screeching and come investigate.

Opening his cockpit as he grabbed an empty energon cube off his desk and dumped the human unceremoniously inside. It landed flat on its face before scrambling to the far side, wide eyes darting around at everything but him.

Now it was scared. So there was some survival instinct after all.

He set the cube back on his desk, reaching back to try and assess the damage before he headed out to find the medic.

***

You slid slowly down the smooth glass wall to land on your butt as your legs just gave up. The apparently not hallucinatory, brain trauma induced giant robot had stuck you in a big, square aquarium and even though the top was open, you couldn’t get enough air. Or stop shaking as panic sank its teeth into your throat.

Reaching up, you gingerly touch your temple. There’s blood there, but sticky and not actively bleeding you think. And even if you’re not imagining all this, you probably do have a concussion. You can’t motivate your shaking, noodle legs to stand, so you crane your neck to study your prison. The walls are much higher than you are tall and featureless. No way to get a good grip to climb out, even as you very briefly entertain and dismiss the idea of parkouring up the corner of the box to freedom, because that wasn’t happening.

You’re not sure how long your big, evil robot is gone. Hours? You’re almost drowsing in your corner even as you shiver uncontrollably in the cold room. You bang your head on the wall when the door opens and your kidnapper returns. Those glowing red eyes slide your way before dismissing you. Shifting to drag your legs against yourself, you watch it move to an oversized chair and slump.

“Almost brought down by two weak Autobots,” it mutters, dragging a hand down its face in a disturbingly human gesture. For an alien robot murder machine, its face is uncannily human, too. “Nearly ripped my wing off.”

Was it talking to you? Unsure, you dart your tongue out to wet your lips. Somehow you hadn’t yet won yourself a Darwin Award even though you’d blundered into the middle of a fire fight between huge, angry robots while gawping like a hick tourist. “How dare they,” you say, voice a barely-there, raspy whisper.

It hears you, though. That big head turns to stare at you and you wilt as its wings flit up a little higher and the silence stretches.

“Right?” He demands suddenly, growling voice full of irritation. It sounded like a he, anyway. Though since it was whatever the hell it was, who knew. “I could have destroyed them then and there with one servo.”

It’s almost funny as the alien death machine actually puffs out his chest a bit when you nod in agreement, teeth chattering. And then you run with it, playing devil’s advocate. “They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Of course not,” he sneers, rising to top his head at you with almost predatory interest. Drifting away to a wall, he retrieves a huge blanket and drops it unceremoniously on you. The material is soft as silk, but some chemical smell clings faintly to it. You still cocoon yourself in it, face poking out to watch your evil robot return to his chair and his sprawl.

[revelboo]

The Conversation

Starscream adopting (kidnapping) a human headcannon

• Absolutely an accident. Scouting excursion gone wrong when he’s spotted and ambushed by quite possibly the two most obnoxious Autobots he’s ever had the displeasure to deal with, Jazz and Bumblebee. Damaged, he’s forced to fly low, darting down a far too narrow forested road in his alt mode with those persistent Autobots right on his aft.

• You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, taking a ride through the country in your little sedan. You just needed to get away, relax and destress from home and work. Music cranked as your mind wanders, you almost don’t hear the scream of the jet flying obscenely low, wingtips clipping and shattering tree limbs to rain down on the road.

• When you do notice, your eyes dart up to the rear view mirror and there’s a moment of just flat disbelief, because there’s no way. Then the jet screams over the top of your car so close you swear it scrapes the paint and you’re slamming on the brakes, hauling at the wheel as this bright yellow sports car tears past on your left, a white car right on its fender.

• You never were a fantastic driver, losing control and heading straight into the tree line, head bouncing off the wheel. There’s a sound of thunder, the pounding staccato drowning out the frantic drumming of your heart. No, not thunder. Weapons firing at the jet.

• It’s the saboteur not the scout that manages a direct hit, forcing Starscream to transform and hit the asphalt at a run, staggering and nearly pitching face first into the trees as he turns to return fire. Both Autobots already transformed and no doubt calling for backup.

• Outnumbered, but hardly out gunned. Still, this wasn’t how he had his day planned, baring his denta at the two Autobots and feeling energon dripping along his side. And once their backup showed?

• It’s almost serendipity when you stagger out of your car, concussed and shell shocked to blunder into the road. Between Starscream and the two nuisances. He’d seen the car go off the road, but hadn’t cared about whatever had been inside. Humans, ugh. But Jazz and Bumblebee both stop firing, staring in no small amount of shock at you.

• And there you are, staring up at him with wide eyes. Not screaming. Not running for your squishy, little life, because your brain is definitely shaken, not stirred. All you can do is gape up at the giant, alien robots with guns in dumb silence and wonder if you’re in fact still in the car bleeding out while your damaged brain spins sci-fi nonsense cotton candy in your last moments.

• And the Autobots are holding fire, because of you. To try and not accidentally kill your very unlucky self. Starscream only sees a get out of jail free card, lunging and closing his servos on you, arm extended to hold you out in front of him like a laughably pathetic shield. Except it works. Neither Autobot moves, weapons faltering.

• The panic kicks in, breaking through the pained fog and you struggle against his far too tight grip, but are ignored. Your heart’s hammering against your ribs, tangling with the pain pounding in your addled head. It’s too much, fear twisting inside you as he laughs. The other two alien robots still have their weapons drawn, but they’re pleading that you be let go.

• Starscream’s still laughing as he says, “No.” Injuries screaming at him, he grimaces as he tucks you to his chassis and transforms around you, trapping you inside while he tries very hard to not think about the fact that there’s a nasty, dripping little human inside him as he bolts.

• He keeps you trapped when he returns to base, pinned inside his canopy as he sneaks back to his quarters to dump you into an empty energon cube, because he has no idea what to do with you now. Squishing you to a paste is definitely an option, but as you stare dumbly up at him in shock, still not screaming, he wonders if he might keep you instead. Especially if you can be dangled in front of those idiot Autobots to save his own aft.

• Slowly self preservation shatters the numb terror, letting you look around and actually see your surroundings. You never were that athletic and there’s no climbing out of the clear box he’s dropped you in. But you’re alive. When the big alien that kidnapped you starts muttering and generally lamenting about you, the “Autobots,” and his life in general, you hesitantly agree with him in a hushed voice, because staying on his good side? Probably a good idea for your continued existence.

• He’s shocked, wings lifting slightly as he vents and stares. You… agreed with him? This mech craves validation and you offer it up freely and yes, he’s flustered, before straightening slightly. Because of course you agree, how could you not? So he rants, almost preening when you make little commiserating noises. You’re in turn shocked when he moves across the room to drop a polishing cloth as big as a queen sized sheet on top of you. You’re not sure if it’s an olive branch or not, but you seize upon it with both hands, wrapping the cloth around you to fight off the chill in the metal room and taking the time to run your fingers through your hair to catalog how badly beat up you are.