Bee Family [TFP x Reader] (TFP Fanfic)

Chapter 2

~Chapter 2~

It had been several days since Trigona stepped into her father's former place in the Gladiatorial ring. The transition had not gone unnoticed. The Cybertronian who once occupied that coveted spot had voiced his displeasure more than once, though he begrudgingly stepped aside. Trigona could sense his bitterness in the way he avoided her optics, but she had little like to dwell on it. Her days were now consumed with training alongside the mech she had idolized since she was a sparkling: Megatronous.

The training chamber's air vibrated with the rhythmic thuds of Trigona's fists and kicks against a reinforced practice drone. Each strike landed with determination, each movement carved from the years of preparation that had let her to this moment. Sweat-like condensation traced down her plating, her vents drawing ragged breaths by the end of the sequence.

Megatronous observed silently, arms folded, optics sharp and calculating. His looming presence both pressured and inspired her. When she finally dropped her stance, bent over to catch her breath, he approached and laid a mass hand on her back.

"Good strikes," he rumbled, his tone carrying the faintest trace of approval. "You've refined your basics well."

Trigona's metal lips curved into a small, exhausted smile. She staggered to the wall, retrieving a container of energon and gulping it down in long, desperate swigs.

"I just don't want to look weak in my first match this weekend," she admitted, her voice low but sincere. "I've dreamed of this for too long to stumble at the start."

Megatronous gave a short nod and began to stride toward the exit. But her voice caught him.

"M-Megatronous... can I ask you something?"

He paused. His blue optics narrowing slightly in curiosity, then turned back, gesturing for her to continue.

Her hands twisted around the container of energon, and she stared at the floor plates. "I was wondering... if you could show me some of your old moves. The ones that inspired me when I was a sparkling. I tried to copy them for years but... I always failed."

Her words tumbled out in a rush, tinged with embarrassment. Megatronous studied her for a long moment before a low chuckle resonated from his chest. He stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"Of course. But not tonight," he said gently. "You've exhausted yourself. Tomorrow."

Relief flooded her spark, and she nodded, gratitude written across her features. She gathered her things and followed him out of the chamber.

Outside, Breakdown and Jointbreak were waiting, leaning casually against a wall but snapping upright when they saw her. Trigona turned back toward her mentor with a smile.

"Goodnight, Megatronous."

"Goodnight, Trigona," he replied, his deep voice lingering as she jogged over to her friends. He watched her for a moment longer before disappearing back into the shadows of the ring.

~...~

The trio walked home together, Trigona bubbling with energy as she recounted every detail of her training. Breakdown's optics lit up with excitement, his boisterous personality matching her in enthusiasm.

"You actually trained with him, Him, in person! Primus, Trigona that's insane."

Jointbreak, quieter and more skeptical, kept his hands folder behind his back. "Don't let it get it your head. Training with Megatronous is an honor, but it also means expectations. Fail, and the entire arena will know your name for the wrong reasons."

Trigona smirked. "Then I just won't fail."

Their laughter filled the night until they reached the modest dwelling they now shared. Nestled between the looming Gladiatorial coliseum and the Wreckers' headquarters, it was both convenient and comforting. Inside, they separated into their own rooms, the hum of Cybertron's endless energy grids lulling them to recharge.

~...~

The next day, Trigona stood once more in the Gladiatorial ring, though now the vast space was empty save herself and Megatronous. He moved with precision and power, demonstrating techniques she had never even seen before. Each swing, twist, and strike told a story of years spent refining the art of battle. Watching him was like watching a force of nature.

Her optics widened as he completed a sequence of acrobatic maneuvers that defied the weight of his massive frame. He landed silently, then glanced at her.

"Now," he said, his voice deep and steady. "Your turn. Recreate one of these moves."

Trigona's spark pounded. "W-What? I've tried these before, I always-"

"You failed," he interrupted, stepping closer, "because you didn't have the one who created them guiding you."

She hesitated, confused by obedient. Megatronous adjusted her stand, repositioning her feet and correcting her balance with careful pushes of his hand. "Feel the weight of your body. Don't fight against it. Flow with it."

She attempted the maneuver-and pormptly landed on her back with a graceless clang.

Silence hung in the air, then Megatronous burst into laughter, the sound deep and genuine. Trigona sprang up, crossing her arms.

"Why are you laughing?!" she napped, her face heating with embarrassment. 

"Because that is exactly what happened when I first created that move." His optics softened with amusement, and for the first time, she saw not the legend, but the mech who had once been where she stood.

Her embarrassment faded, replaced with wonder. "You mean... I made the same mistake you did?"

He smirked. "Exactly the same. Now... Again."

They trained for hours. Time melted away as failure turned to progress. By the end, Trigona had successfully mastered three of his techniques. One however, eluded her, the most complex, the one Megatronous admitted had taken him years to perfect.

Her determination only burned brighter.

When training officially ended, Megatronous left her with a word of encouragement. Yet Trigona could not leave. The empty ring called to her. She sent a quick comm to her friends: :I'll be late:

Alone under the silent glow of arena lights, she practiced. Over and over, she hurled herself into the impossible move. Her plating ached, her vents strained, but she refused to stop. Midnight came and went. At last, at nearly one in the morning, her body aligned, her strike landed, and she completed the maneuver flawlessly.

She froze, stunned, then repeated it. Once. Twice. Three times. By the fifth successful attempt, a victorious laugh escaped her lips. She had done it. She had mastered his hardest move. 

Her limbs trembled with exhaustion as she gathered her things, her spark still glowing with pride. Tomorrow, she would face her first real battle. And now, she was ready.

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Thank you all for reading!!

This is an updated version.

Wanted it to sound better and fix some of the grammar mistakes

I hope you all have a great day/night!!

~Calico Cali Out~