TFA Sentinel Prime x Reader scenarios

You spend time with him / You meet the Autobots

Sentinel Prime stood rigid, his metallic form casting a formidable shadow in the dimly lit corridor of the Elite Guard's headquarters. The hum of machinery filled the air, but for a moment, Sentinel allowed himself to relax, taking a rare break from his duties. He glanced around and spotted you, standing at a cautious distance, exactly eight feet away.

"So," Sentinel's voice rumbled, metallic yet laced with curiosity, "who are you, and how did you end up here?"

You took a deep breath, your voice steady but tinged with weariness. "I was evicted from my apartment. Lost my job, couldn't keep up with the rent. I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Sentinel's optics narrowed slightly. "And now you're here, on my ship. I didn't want to save you from homelessness," he admitted bluntly, "but I had to because I felt... pity for you."

"Well, thank you for that," you said, managing a small, grateful smile. "But I have to ask, why do you and other Cybertronians hate organics so much?"

Sentinel sighed, a sound that echoed like grinding gears. "Organics carry several diseases. They're disgusting vermin, according to Cybertronian society. The Decepticons and even some Autobots might tolerate humans better, but I don't see it that way."

You nodded slowly, understanding the weight of his prejudice. "I promise, I'll do my best not to sneeze, always wash my hands, brush my teeth, and take a shower or a bath. I'll stay clean."

Sentinel's stern expression softened just a fraction. "I'll let you stay with me until I find you a new home on Earth. And I promise not to step on you."

As the days passed, you spent more time with Sentinel Prime. Despite his gruff demeanor, there were moments of unexpected camaraderie. Yet, Sentinel often avoided you, maintaining his distance as if afraid your mere presence might contaminate him. You respected his space, never crossing the invisible boundary he seemed to have set. Even he couldn't believe he had brought a human onto his spaceship.

The next day, you had the chance to meet the Autobots: Optimus Prime, towering and noble; Bulkhead, bulky and good-natured; Bumblebee, small and energetic; and Ratchet, the grizzled medic. They had become planetary heroes and celebrities after defeating Megatron and restoring the Allspark. Their presence was awe-inspiring.

"Welcome," Optimus Prime greeted you warmly. "It's good to see you safe."

"Thank you, Optimus," you replied, feeling a sense of relief in their presence. "I've heard so much about you all."

You soon learned about the rivalry between Sentinel and Optimus Prime. Sentinel was next in line to become the supreme commander of the Autobots, a position he coveted and didn't want Optimus to take.

Curiosity got the better of you one evening as you sat with Sentinel. "Why do you hate Optimus Prime?" you asked gently.

Sentinel's optics flared briefly with irritation. "That's none of your business," he snapped, before turning away.

Silence fell between you, but you didn't push further. Sentinel Prime remained an enigma, a blend of duty-bound rigidity and unexpected vulnerability. As the days went by, you navigated the complexities of your relationship, grateful for the unlikely refuge and the lessons learned in the company of Cybertronians.

The days passed slowly aboard Sentinel Prime's spaceship. Despite his initial reluctance, Sentinel began to spend more time with you, often out of curiosity rather than any genuine desire to bond. He found your world fascinating, albeit baffling, and you took every opportunity to share stories about Earth and its inhabitants.

One evening, as the ship cruised silently through the cosmos, you found Sentinel in a rare moment of contemplation, his gaze fixed on the stars outside.

"You know," you began, stepping cautiously into the room, "not all humans are bad. There's so much good in people, if you look for it."

Sentinel's optics flickered as he turned to face you. "Good?" he echoed, his voice laced with skepticism. "From what I've seen, organics are driven by selfishness and chaos."

You shook your head, stepping a little closer, still mindful of the eight-foot distance he seemed to prefer. "Sure, there are bad people. But there are also those who are kind, selfless, and courageous. Humans can create beauty and strive for greatness. We're not all disease-ridden vermin."

Sentinel's gaze was unwavering, but there was a flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps. "Give me an example," he said finally, "of this so-called greatness."

You smiled, thinking of a story that might resonate with him. "There was a man named Nelson Mandela. He fought against apartheid in South Africa, enduring years of imprisonment for his beliefs. When he was finally released, he didn't seek revenge. Instead, he worked towards reconciliation and unity. His leadership and forgiveness helped heal a nation."

Sentinel's optics narrowed as he processed this. "And you expect me to believe that one man's actions represent all of humanity?"

"It's not just him," you continued earnestly. "There are countless stories of human bravery and compassion. Think of all the doctors and scientists working tirelessly to cure diseases, or the everyday acts of kindness people show each other. We have the capacity for both good and bad, just like any other species."

Sentinel crossed his arms, his stance still guarded. "Organics are unpredictable. We value order and efficiency. Your kind disrupts that balance."

"Maybe," you conceded, "but unpredictability can also mean creativity and innovation. Humans have a way of finding solutions and making progress in unexpected ways. Maybe that's something worth considering."

There was a long silence as Sentinel weighed your words. "You're passionate about defending your species," he remarked, almost grudgingly.

"Because I believe in them," you replied simply. "And I believe that, if you gave humans a chance, you might see that we're not so different after all."

Sentinel's expression remained inscrutable, but he didn't dismiss your words outright. "Perhaps," he said finally, "but it will take more than words to change my mind."

"I understand," you said softly. "But I'm here, and I'm willing to prove it to you, one day at a time."

Sentinel nodded, a barely perceptible gesture, but it felt like a small victory. As the days went on, he continued to maintain his distance, but the conversations grew more frequent, and with each one, you felt a subtle shift in his perception.

He still avoided you at times, especially when you were sick or tired, but there were moments when he seemed almost intrigued by your persistence. Gradually, he learned more about human culture, history, and achievements. Though his skepticism remained, it was now tempered with a hint of curiosity and, perhaps, a sliver of respect for your unwavering belief in humanity.

One evening, as you both watched the stars, Sentinel spoke again, his tone thoughtful. "You said humans are capable of greatness and compassion. I suppose time will tell if that's true."

You nodded, a hopeful smile on your face. "Time and experience. I'm willing to wait and show you."

And so, amidst the vast expanse of space, an unlikely friendship began to take root, built on cautious trust and the shared hope that understanding could bridge even the widest of gaps.