(Bumblebee x Black! Reader)
A Storyteller.
That's what Y/n always seemed to be, whether it was the piles of notebooks or the simple fact her flash drive compacted all the stories her grandfather ever told.
"Hero's always have their stories to tell...
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'The driver doesn't pick the car, the car picks the driver'-Bobby Bolivia
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"Please! Please! Please tell me the story again! I even brushed my teeth without you asking!" The young girl hopped on her bed, the bedsheets were a print of stars while the soft blankets were black in contrast to the white. Her smile showed the missing tooth in the top front, hair styled in twists with barrettes adorning the ends. "You promised if I was good you'd tell me again!"
An older dark skinned man walked in, his hair gray with strays of white. His smile was straight and genuine, pulling up at the corners of his eyes. He seemed to have come home from work, tie undone with brown slacks and suspenders over his dressed shirt.
The room itself was something to behold, a treasure chest filled with teddy bears were at the foot of the queen bed , the frame was metal, old style in white. By the window in place was an old bronze telescope, the girl had a habit of staying up at night looking at the night sky. Not only was she able to identify all the constellations, she was able to tell you how far each one was. The room was decorated in astronomy paraphernalia, for a moment you'd think all of this was for a teens room at first glance. However one look to the left and you would see the array of child drawings that belongs to the ten year old.
"Hold on, I'm coming hold your horses," the man went to the bookshelf by the other window and pulled out an old notebook, withered and torn. "I've told you this story so many times, I'm sure you could tell the story to yourself in order to fall asleep." He teased.
(Y/n) stuck out her tongue at the man playfully, letting out a yelp when he casted her a warning glare before sitting at the side of the bed. She made herself quick to be situated under the covers, her lamp illuminating her brown skin in honey hues as her smile never left. These were the nights she looked up to the most. After a long day at school annoying the english teacher about the galaxy, she'd eat dinner and listen to her favorite story.
She glanced down at the leather ripped book, "Can I have it?," Her question was a bit hesitant, afterall her grandfather told her the notebook had been with him since he was eighteen.
Each time he pulled the book from the high shelf she felt a bit of jealousy yet curious as to why he always had it out of her reach; It wasn't like she hadn't glanced in the book before. There had been many times where she sat back and looked at the side notes outside of the lined margins. It was a shame it wasn't in english. The letters-or what she assumed were letters-look weird from what she was used to.
