Bee Family [TFP x Reader] (TFP Fanfic)

Chapter 1

~Chapter 1~

The night before the tryouts was long, stressful, and utterly sleepless.

Trigona tossed and turned in her berth, her processor overlocked with thoughts of tomorrow. Her optics blinked rapidly, staring into the darkness of the ceiling of her quarters. The gladiator tryouts. Her one shot. Her future. The spark-deep fear of failure twisted in her fuel tanks like a corrosive toxin. What if she slipped? What if she choked? What if Megatronous didn't even notice her?

As dawn approached and the skies of Polyhex turned a gentle silver-blue, she finally gave up. Her armor ached from her restless night, and her joints felt stiff. Still, her resolve burned through the weariness. She stood up, flexing her servos, and exited her quarters with purpose.

By the time she reached MacCadam's bar, the streets were stirring. Transports lifted off into the morning air, and the distant hum of the city pulsed around her like a heartbeat. She stepped through the familiar entrance of the oil house and was greeted by the ever-alert gaze of MacCadam himself.

"Yikes, Trigona. You look like you've been chewed up and spit out by a scrapdrake."

"Didn't sleep. I need something strong," she muttered, rubbing at her optics.

MacCadam gave a knowing smile and handed her a mug of energized energon. The first sip jolted through her circuits like a surge of lightning. The second sip made her posture straighten. By the third, her fatigue had ebbed just enough to make her feel... alive.

She left the bar energized and ready.

~...~

The Gladiatorial Ring loomed in the distance like a monument to Cybertron's primal past. Towering walls encircled the arena, banner flapping with sigils of old champions. The entrance was already crawling with hopefuls, a long, winding line of mechs waiting for their turn to prove themselves.

Trigona froze for a second as her optics scanned the crowd.

All mechs.

No femmes.

Her spark pulsed uneasily. She swallowed hard and forced her shoulders back. She had every right to be here. She'd trained for this. Fought for this.

As she joined the line, her thoughts wandered. The tryouts would consist of multiple trials: agility stunts, combat methods, raw strength, and most importantly, a unique fighting style created by the participant. She had spent cycles perfecting her form, her balance, and her technique.

She remembered, vividly, the day Megatronous had saved her.

She'd been just a sparkling, wandering too close to the edge of the old arena's maintenance scaffolding. One slip, and she fell. Down, down, into the pit. The crowd had roared in confusion, and she remembered the fear, the helplessness, until a shadow passed over her as she was falling and caught her before she hit the ground.

Megatronous himself.

She'd never forgotten that moment. It had sparked the dream she chased to this day.

"Hey, sweetspark."

A voice snapped her back to reality. She turned to see a large, older mech behind her, his armor outdated but sturdy.

"Can I help you?" she asked, polite but firm.

The mech chuckled, arms crossed. "Are you lost or something? You don't belong here."

Trigona frowned. "Excuse me?"

"This is the tryout line for gladiators. Not dancers."

A few mechs nearby chuckled, though some remained quiet, unsure.