#ectotron x reader

• Engine rumbling as he drives down the quiet street trying to pinpoint the spike, he stops suddenly as the front door of a dilapidated, abandoned building at the end of the street slams open and a human runs out screaming. And slams into his fender in their panic, falling down and scrambling on their hands and knees. Venting, he transforms and moves between your tiny form and the house. Searching for whatever you’re running from. Which is most likely his disturbance he’s been tracking.

• Still screaming nonstop, as the weird vehicle just comes apart and stands up and you can’t. Can’t deal with whatever this bullshit is on top of ghosts. Screw views and popularity. Want nothing more than to run, but you can’t do anything but stare up at the new, metal monster and scream like you’re being brutally murdered. Which might very well be in your future as you watch the thing reach up to pull a weird looking weapon and the door on the house slams shut.

• Rumbling as whatever he’s been hunting slams the door, apparently not interested in dealing with him. So maybe it’s not a threat and just wanted the human out? Turning, he winces at you sprawled in the street, only stopping that noise you’re making long enough to suck in a breath to keep screaming. Making him painfully aware of the fact that he’s not supposed to be seen by more humans. “I don’t suppose you could stop screaming so we can talk like reasonable beings?” He asks, moving closer and crouching.

• It talks. You have no idea what it is, but it talks and you’re rolling, scrambling to your feet and a huge hand closes on you before you can bolt. “No, let’s not do that,” he growls as your feet leave the ground. “I’m not hurting you. Can we just talk?” Screaming as you’re lifted up to optic level with the monster, you can’t breathe. Can’t look away from those big denta when it bares them at you. Completely freaking out as you struggle and your heart is trying to beat its way free of your ribs as you pass out, vision graying with a sickening suddenness.

• Staring as you just go limp in his servos, he can feel your heart still racing, so he didn’t accidentally kill you at least. And can’t exactly leave you here. Groaning as he glares at the old house and sees the lights faintly flickering even though the place shouldn’t have electricity. The ghost laughing at him if he had to guess. Because most of them he’s encountered? Unpleasant and mostly jerks. Venting, he transforms around you, belting you in his passenger side and wondering if you’ll immediately start screaming when you come to. With his luck, the odds aren’t in his favor.

• “Don’t even joke about faeries. That Tinkerbell business is strictly garbage,” he mutters, slowing and signaling to make a turn. “Actual faeries tend to be cruel. Capricious and bored.” And you bite your bottom lip. Doubting him? After antagonizing a ghost? “You just go stand in a faery ring, then.” Regrets it as soon as he says it. Feels guilty as his engine rumbles. You might just try it. Don’t seem to know better.

• “What’s a faerie ring?” You mumble, frowning. Aren’t faeries supposed to be nice? Cute, tiny pastel colored ladies with dragonfly wings? Hear him clear his vents and he blasts you with warm air to make you lean back, nose wrinkling. ‘How do I know more about your world than you do?’ He asks and your eyes narrow at his steering wheel. Not that his voice is coming from there, seems to come from everywhere, but you need somewhere to focus your attention on. ‘You’ve never seen circles of mushrooms?’

• Engine rumbling, he makes another turn when you point out the next street. Don’t you know your own people’s legends and myths? It’s so strange to him. There were dozens of stories on Cybertron, fascinating and strange legends. He’d loved discovering the truth. The uncanny. And this world has its own mysteries to discover.

• “No.” This has to be the weirdest conversation of your life. Actually, it’s about on par with how your night is going. Finding out the supernatural is real. Scary and traumatizing and real. Could have gone your whole life without knowing that. ‘Maybe you need to spend more time outside,’ he mutters and you snort despite yourself. Because the alien didn’t just tell you to go touch grass. “Faeries are supposed to be cute. Sparkly.”

• You’re absolutely precious. Naïve, but precious. But then humans tend to only see what they want to. It’s why his kind can blend in so easily on this world. Humans just want to pretend away the supernatural and anything that doesn’t line up with their perception of reality. “I’d encourage you to not call a faery cute or sweet if you ever meet one,” he suggests. Even after the ghost, after him, you still want to cling to what you think you know. What feels safe. And where’s the fun in that? In hiding? Aren’t you curious at all?

• Yanking on the seatbelt when the latch absolutely won’t unlock, the demon car makes a noise around you and comes apart. Screaming when your butt hits the ground in the middle of the road, you scoot backwards as it reforms back into a giant robot. Alien. Apparently aliens and ghosts are real and you’ve officially hit your limit for daily weirdness tolerance. Just can’t with this. Especially when he turns and bends, hands on his knees to frown at you, his expression almost guilty. “There. You’re out,” he growls, throwing up his hands and striding away to transform back into a car. About to ditch you alone in the dark, spooky road. Alone. After just finding out aliens and ghosts are real. And who knows what else.

• “Wait! Mr. Alien?” Stiffening as you jog over to him and smack a hand against his rear fender, he shifts on his shocks. Did you just slap his aft? ‘Ectotron,’ he corrects despite himself, tempted to just drive away as you keep touching him. Like you’re reassuring yourself that he’s real. “Ectotron,” you echo, glancing over your shoulder as your field prickles through him. Scared, but he’s not sure if its of him, the ghost, or being potentially left alone. “Could I get a lift?”

• “I thought you wanted out,” he mutters with exactly the same tired resignation you usually reserve for your dog when he wants to go outside only to immediately want to come back in. Shoulders hunching, you shrug awkwardly. “If you want a ride home, you’re going to have to tell the demon car where you live,” he adds, opening his passenger side door and waiting.

• Knows he’s being petty now, but it’s not exactly fun to have someone scream at him. And call him demonic. Engine rumbling as he slowly inches forward when you hesitate, he’s amused when you jolt and run to slide into his passenger side, deciding to go with him after all. Can feel your tension as he shuts the door and tries to put his seatbelt back on you only for you to twist sideways in the seat, using an arm to fend him off. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re particularly difficult?” He asks tiredly as he gives up for now and starts rolling. “Care to tell me where I’m dropping you off?” And if he’s even going the right direction.

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• Head pounding as it falls back against a plush seat, you awkwardly pluck at whatever’s pinning you and your eyes open. Seeing road rolling by out a windshield before you look down at the seatbelt and try to figure out how you got here. Because this isn’t your car. Head turning, you stare dumbly at the steering wheel turning without anyone in the driver’s seat. Self driving car, you think. Right as you remember the giant robot. Hadn’t it had wheels on it? Inhaling slowly as the ghost car turns down a side street, you scream.

• And you’re awake again. Frantically clawing at the seatbelt and screaming like you’re being murdered. “No, no. Come on, I’m one of the good guys,” he says and you’re looking around frantically. Hears you wail a slightly hysterical ‘ghost cars and demon, robot monsters.’ “Now, that’s a bit hurtful,” he mutters tiredly, refusing to let you undo the seatbelt for your own safety. Because as freaked out as you are, you might try to throw yourself out of his altmode.

• Pressing yourself against the door as the car talks to you, you’re sure the car is the demon, robot monster. Why not? Ghosts are real, so why not giant robots that masquerade as cars. Maybe that’s how he finds his victims. Staring at the steering wheel since you can’t tell where the disembodied voice is coming from, you can feel your heart hammering against your ribs, hear your own noisy breathing. “What are going to do to me?” You make yourself ask, not entirely sure you actually want to know the answer and the car makes a noise around you.

• “I’m not doing anything to you,” he says in exasperation. Do you not realize he can feel you scrabbling to pull up the lock and get his passenger door open? “You screamed at me and I didn’t leave you lying in the middle of the street to get run over.” He’d done the right thing. Even if you’re being very ungrateful about it. Could have left you there. Actually, no he couldn’t. He’s not that sparkless. “I’d take you home if you’d tell me where that is.” And your eyes narrow. ‘I’m not telling demon cars my address,’ you say. “I’m not- what makes you think I’m a demon car?” Venting as you gesture vaguely at his interior like it should be self explanatory, he tries to figure out what to do with you.

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