Transformers Prime: ||fem!reader||

Her stomach dropped.

Headlights flared in the corner of her eye—two cars barreling straight toward them. Tires shrieked against pavement. The sound was sharp, violent.

Before she could react, the motorcycle jerked beneath her like it had been shocked alive. She barely had time to scream. Her hands shot out, gripping the boy's shirt just as the bike launched forward and threw her onto the seat.

The world blurred.

Wind slammed into her face. Her legs locked around the bike's frame as it swerved madly between the two oncoming cars. They missed by inches. The heat of their engines kissed her arms as they tore past, roaring like beasts.

Her mind couldn't keep up. It felt like her body was being carried by someone else, pure instinct and panic taking over. Her fingers curled tighter in the boy's shirt, holding on like her life depended on it.

Because it did.

The motorcycle didn't move like a machine—it reacted, sharp and precise, dodging traffic and weaving through narrow gaps before they even appeared.

This wasn't driving. It was calculated escape.

"WHAT THE HELL, KID?!" she shouted, struggling to be heard over the rushing wind. "STOP THE BIKE!"

"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING!" the boy yelled, voice breaking. "I'm not touching the controls! I swear!"

Then came a voice—low, feminine, and disturbingly calm. "Do not let go."

She blinked. Her eyes shot to the dashboard. A soft light pulsed near the screen. The voice was coming from the bike.

"What the—WHO SAID THAT?!" the boy screamed.

And then the purple cars returned.

They appeared in the mirrors like predators, headlights cutting through the dark like knives. Sleek and fast, they raced alongside them, engines snarling.

"WHY ARE THEY FOLLOWING US?!" she shouted, her grip tightening around the boy.

The bike veered suddenly—cutting behind the cars—then accelerated, engines screaming, and surged forward again. She dared a glance back.

The cars were gone. Just like that. Like they'd vanished into thin air. Her breath caught in her throat. Her limbs were shaking.

"What is happening?" she gasped, voice hoarse.

"Hell if I know!" the teen snapped, eyes wide with panic. "Are we being chased?! Did I piss off the mafia or something?!"

Before she could answer, the bike swerved into a back alley and skidded to a stop. The sudden silence slammed into them like a wall.

They didn't wait. Both of them jumped off and stumbled back, hearts hammering.

The bike remained still. Its engine purred low, like it was watching them.

Then it moved. Just a few inches forward.

Then the voice came again—flat and emotionless. "I don't exist. Tell anyone about me... and I'll hunt you both down."

Her blood turned cold.

The headlight brightened, casting a long glare across the alley. "Nope," she whispered, already grabbing the boy's hand. "Nope nope nope."

"Wait—what is it doing—?"

"RUN!" she shouted, yanking him forward.

They bolted.