sunandmoonkeeper

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Breath and Bone

After Rook is injured in the Crossroads, a spell gone wrong makes the injury dramatically worse. With Rook unconscious, Lucanis must help her reach the Lighthouse and safety.

(Lucanis Dellamorte/Rook Ingellvar | 6,360 Words | AO3 Link | CW: broken bones, implied past child abuse)

“It's never enough being one. Why do I hope to contain you: always undoing and undone; every place you touch me changes shape.” —Robert Fanning, “Song of the Shore to the Sea”

“Nice one, Rook!” Lucanis shouted from the other side of the clearing. 

Rook, stepping back from the fresh corpse she’d just driven her spellblade into, did not have the breath to respond. The Crossroads was a dizzy thing, ridden with a resonant hum. When she fought here, she could feel it all through her, as if the place was singing in her bones. It was easy to get lost in that rhythm. It was especially easy when she was fighting like this, Venatori swinging blades everywhere she turned, no space at all to breathe or strategize.

A missile hissed as it passed her, and Lenore summoned a barrier just as a second might have hit. Somewhere behind her, Bellara shouted something she couldn’t hear. Days like this invigorated some of the others, she knew. After battle, Taash or Davrin seemed energized, as if the adrenaline rush of combat clung to them a little longer than the act itself.

It wasn’t like that for Lenore. Death was a familiar friend; killing was an entirely different creature. She had long since accepted its necessity. That didn’t mean she loved the fight. Quite the contrary, in fact. If there had been any other path for them, she would have taken it a hundred times over by now.

She ducked nimbly, drawing a miasma of death from the ground to drive the nearest foes back. They choked and gagged at its touch, so familiar to Lenore, and staggered away from her. 

The field had been whittled down somewhat. As she watched, Bellara waved her arms to draw the attention of an assailant. When the warrior turned to fight her, Lucanis appeared behind him as if from the air itself and drove a blade neatly between his ribs. 

This! This was what she’d been working toward! It was so heartening to see that their group combat practices were paying off, that their techniques and strategies were interlocking so effectively. She would have to bring this up to both of them later, because it deserved to be pointed out. She would—

Something struck her leg, midway between her knee and her ankle. There was an ominous crack somewhere in that region and an answering swell of pain. She’d made the first, most basic mistake in combat and taken her attention from her enemies. Luckily for her—for all of them—her instincts had been honed by the constant fighting, too, and she reacted without thinking. Lightning arced from her hand and spread, striking the one who’d hit her and spreading to the two behind him. One toppled immediately, arms splayed, eyes hollow. The other shook, caught in place as the power coursed through them, and crumpled to the ground a moment later. 

“Nice try, filth,” said the one before her, and swung his blade at her again. 

Not good. She could barely put weight on her leg, which would dramatically hinder her maneuverability. The pain was getting to her already, crawling from her leg to her chest and choking her lungs. She couldn’t think straight; needed to do something to fend him off. Something—

He swung again, and her shield flickered into existence just before the blade would have connected with her forehead. Her reserves had been drained by the lightning, and they drained further as he added a second hand to the hilt of the blade to bear down on her. 

Lenore gritted her teeth. Her head felt fuzzy, her face clammy. She hadn’t the strength to hold him off now. She barely had the breath to hiss between her teeth, let alone call out to one of the others for help. Healing magic was out of the question—she’d never had the knack of it. 

None of them could heal, really; up to now, they’d mostly been working around this with potions. Not for the first time, she wished she’d formed the sort of bond with a spirit that might’ve given her this skill. Alas, her talents lay elsewhere—her hands had always been for death, never life.

Wait. There was an idea. 

In the Necropolis, inhabited skeletons often encountered the sort of damage that cracked a bone or two. There were spells to mend them when this sort of thing occurred, and materials to patch missing pieces if necessary. She’d learned those spells when she’d been an apprentice, but hadn’t needed to call upon the knowledge in years. 

Her bones were still covered in living tissue. It would be risky to try this herself, but she had little choice. In a moment, he’d break through her barrier. If she could just remember—

“Give in to me,” the Venatori demanded. “Kneel!” 

Lenore panted with effort and dragged the words from her memory. The shield dimmed around her, bright where it touched the blade and nearly insubstantial everywhere else. She had so little energy left. This would take most of it; she’d only have one shot at patching herself up. She had to make it count. 

“Rook’s hurting!” Bellara yelled somewhere beyond her. 

Rook tensed, sucked in a breath, and spoke the words of the spell. Several things happened in quick succession: 

Devoid of the power it took to sustain it, her shield faltered and the sword broke through. Lenore ducked to her right, taking her weight off her injured leg, and hammered the base of her staff into the Venatori’s throat. 

As she moved, the spell took effect. Pain swelled within her and broke like a wave, the bone in her leg mending itself over and over again until it had multiplied itself enough to break through the skin. She screamed without knowing it, without really hearing it, as if the pain itself made a tunnel from her leg to her throat and poured itself forth from there. 

Bolts laden with electricity shot from somewhere in the distance, hammering into the unbalanced Venatori’s back. He stumbled, nearly tripping over one of the many spurs of bone now projecting from Rook’s leg. 

“Rook,” Lucanis shouted from what seemed like a great distance, “hold on!” 

She’d no idea what she could possibly be holding on to when the whole world was shuddering like a freshly reanimated corpse, but she tried anyway. She must have fallen at some point in the chaos because her hands scrabbled at stone and dirt now, not thin air. If her leg hadn’t hurt so badly that it eclipsed all other feeling, her head and tailbone would no doubt be aching from the impact.

The Venatori, now bleeding profusely, staggered to his feet. Behind him, a violet blur felled first one, then another of the remaining Venatori who stood between Lucanis and Rook. There were few of them left, which was probably good. It still wouldn’t save her if she fell to this one right now. 

Her staff had fallen behind her. Rook dragged herself backward, scrambling for it. Her hands were slick with something and they moved slower than they should, as if the air itself was more viscous than it ought to be. Every time she tried to grasp the smooth wood, it slid away from her. A flash of teal and brown flickered at the corner of her eye: Bellara was running toward her from the other side of the clearing. Even as she identified her friend, another Venatori darted into Bellara’s path and blocked her from view. 

Only five left now. If she just held out—

The violet blur spread tenebrous wings and shot closer, impossibly fast. Fast enough? It was hard to say. Everything looked—felt—so very strange. Her head pulsed in time with the wound in her leg.  The Venatori lifted his sword and swung, a blow that would connect precisely with her breastbone. At last, at last, her hand wrapped around the polished wood of her staff, though it fought to slip from her grasp.

Unbidden, her mind began to recite, in clinical and removed tones, precisely what would happen to her body when the blow connected: if her sternum did not collapse, one of the sternocostal joints would. The force of the blow would penetrate her chest, likely striking her heart. If it did not, it would certainly rupture the pleural cavity and steal her breath away. The latter would not kill her immediately. She’d tended plenty of corpses that’d taken at least one more blow to die after this precise strike. If she hung on for long enough, one of the potions the others carried could still heal her. If not…

If not, she’d already shown Emmrich exactly where she wanted to be buried. 

Behind the Venatori, Lucanis—or maybe Spite—struck down two more Venatori; they fell before him like sheaves of wheat before the scythe. She might be impressed at his accuracy and speed if she weren’t possessed by mortal terror. Perhaps Emmrich would be able to coax that thought from her corpse after she—after— 

The blade whistled through the air, a silver gleam meant for her heart. At that precise moment, Lenore finally grasped her staff and summoned another barrier. It failed almost immediately, but held just long enough to arrest the sword’s motion in midair. The Venatori grunted and lifted the sword again. 

This had to be it; she had nothing left, not even a drop of magic.  Rook took the staff in both hands (it was so heavy; so heavy that she almost couldn’t lift it, though she’d been wielding it for months now) and held it over her chest. It was a poor shield, especially when she was shaking so hard she could barely see straight, but it was better than giving up entirely. 

“For Razi—” the Venatori began, but the word was cut off abruptly. 

Between one blink and the next, the air was filled with that purple glow, illuminating her attacker from behind. Even now, Rook held her staff in shaking hands, warding as best she could against whatever blow may yet come. It wasn’t necessary; already, blood trickled from her attacker’s mouth, still open to speak a syllable that would never come. 

When his body dropped, it fell to the side and away from Lenore. Lucanis stood behind him, his face like stone. Spite’s wings spread from his back. His knife dripped blood onto Rook’s boot. She looked at that instead of her—instead of the bones branching above it. 

There was no clever comment, no regards from the Crows. Instead, his eyes held hers. 

“Can you walk?” Lucanis asked, eyes gleaming with the telltale sign of Spite’s ascendance though it was undeniably his voice she heard. 

“No,” she managed through gritted teeth. 

Behind him, Bellara shouted as the last of the Venatori fell. Lucanis must have seen her leg by now; his face grew more grim, eyes pinched at the corners. She could hardly look at it herself, though she could see the jagged, pale sections from the corner of her eye. 

Lucanis stepped closer and crouched, neatly blocking her view of whatever she’d done to herself. Without meaning to, she reached for his elbow and squeezed, far harder than she would have under any other circumstances. She couldn’t have said what kind of comfort she sought then; there was nothing he could do for her and both of them knew it, though he was already reaching for the vial at his belt. 

“Bad idea,” she told him, lifting a hand to clear the sweat from her brow and realizing at the last minute that mud, blood, and something green dripped from her hand. She used her elbow instead, though it wasn’t much cleaner. When she drew her arm away, new red streaked over the fabric. 

“Why?” Lucanis asked. He pulled a cloth from his pocket and lifted it to her forehead, carefully dabbing at something there. His face was so very grim. She did not like it; did not like that she was the cause. 

“What I did—” gorge rose at the back of her throat. Lenore swallowed and tried again. “Healing is the problem. It might make it worse. Unless you’ve got something for—for pain or sleep…”

“No,” he told her, tucking the vial away. “Only this. Can you bear it until we reach the Lighthouse?” 

“Don’t have much choice,” she said. Bellara rushed into view, face already paler than usual. 

“Rook, that looks really bad,” she said. “What can I—is there anything I can do?” 

Lucanis rested his hand over Rook’s at his elbow and looked up at Bellara. 

“I am going to carry her back. Can you find something to keep her leg stable?”

“I—yeah. Yes. Give me just—give me a few minutes. I have an idea.” 

Bellara darted off again, flitting from body to body. After a moment, she perched near the collapsed pile of metal that’d once been a guardian of the crossroads. Something pulled Rook’s attention to a pile of rock floating past and she watched its slow, gentle path across the sky. It was not engrossing; it was something she had seen dozens of times by now. Nonetheless, she could not look away. For a moment, every other sound was drowned out by the rush of her blood in her ears.

“Rook?” Lucanis said. “Rook. Can you hear me?”

It took some effort to unclench her teeth. Lenore nodded instead, turning her head to look at him. He’d leaned closer while she’d been distracted. He reached for her hand now, apparently unbothered by the muck still caking her palms. 

“Hold on,” he said. “As tight as you need to. I am here. I will stay.” 

At last, she managed to part her lips. Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t dare reach for her waterskin. Any movement felt like it could upset the delicate balance she was maintaining. An ounce more pain and she would be lost. 

“I will pass out,” she told him as clearly as she could manage. 

His hand tightened around hers—surprising, since she had his hand in a vice grip and couldn’t seem to unclench her fingers. She hadn’t expected him to hold her back. Sweat dripped into her eyes, stinging as she blinked it away. 

“When you lift me,” she clarified. “It’s—going to jostle the–the wound. I won’t be awake. That’s good. You can move faster if you aren’t worrying about my comfort.”  

“I understand,” Lucanis said. “Don’t try to talk. Rest now; we will do what we can.”

“Stupid,” she told him, and took in a shaky breath. Bellara was moving toward them again, something golden in her hands. “My fault.”

“Leave it,” he told her. “You can blame yourself later.” 

“Got it,” Bellara said, skidding to a halt beside them. “This will hold your legs in place. There’s a bit that should keep anything from hitting the, um—pieces directly. I’m going to put this on now, okay?”

“Wait,” Rook said. The adrenaline was wearing off; she was thinking less and less clearly, the pain echoing and magnifying with each passing moment. “Tell—tell Emmrich—the spell is the one for—for mending bone. He’ll know—so stupid, tell him I’m sorry—”

“I’ll tell him, I promise,” Bellara said, her voice soothing. Briefly, she rested a hand on Lenore’s shoulder. “I’m putting the brace on now, alright? I’ll be as quick as I can.” 

She couldn’t help the noise she made when Bellara reached under her leg to fasten the brace. Without thinking, she turned and pressed her face against Lucanis’s knee to muffle the cries, uncomfortable as it was. All the while, his grip on her hand held steady. 

“I know, I know, I know,” Bellara chanted, her voice strained. “Almost done, just a little more—sorry!—almo—”

Between one syllable and the next, the universe blinked.

Now, the wind rushed through her hair. They were no longer in the same clearing. Instead, the Crossroads sped past on either side. The ache in her leg had intensified, though she could feel from the tight band around her thigh that the splint was still in place. 

“How close?” Lucanis asked. 

“We approach the requested destination, Dweller,” the serene voice of the Caretaker responded. 

Warm leather curled more tightly around her shoulders and the scene resolved itself into something that made sense. Lucanis held her at the prow of the rowboat, one foot braced on the bench before them. She turned her head to see him better and found him examining her already, his face solemn. 

Something about his chest looked odd, but it took her a moment to place it: he’d removed the blade and all the vials from his armor there. Why? Nothing made sense. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him, and his brow furrowed.

“For what, Rook?” 

What could she say? She turned her face into his chest instead, closing her eyes for a moment. It would be easier, she decided, if the world would just stop spinning. 

“It was a stupid mistake,” she mumbled against his chest. 

“You’ve said that,” he told her. “More than once. I will tell you again what you told me after Weisshaupt: we all make mistakes, Rook.” 

She tried to hold onto his words, but they scattered to the winds. His grip on her shifted slightly, his hand curling around her shoulder. 

“Look at me, Rook. You have to stay awake. You have a concussion. That’s why you aren’t thinking clearly.”

Staying awake was a singularly unattractive prospect. Everything hurt; the dizziness was only getting worse and she’d made the mistake of looking at her leg again. Just the sight of it, bone jutting from her leg in three directions and curling in on itself like the horns of a halla, was enough to make her stomach lurch again. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him. 

Through his armor, she could hear his heartbeat. 1, 2, 3, she counted, 1, 2, 3—like a waltz, played in double time. She couldn’t remember why she was apologizing. Had she played a waltz for him before? She’d played for him—for all of them—but she couldn’t remember—

“I’m sorry,” she told Lucanis again, and the grim lines branching from the corners of his eyes deepened. She wanted him to never let go of her; when she turned her face into him again, the world felt quieter.

“Don’t apologize to me, Rook,” he said, and the universe blinked again. 

|

It was quiet in Rook’s room, for which Lucanis was grateful. There had been far too much noise in the infirmary from when he’d carried her there to when Taash had brought her here. Neve’s sleeping spell yet held her; Rook’s face was still, though the space between her eyebrows remained faintly creased. If the spell had not failed when Taash had rebroken her leg and Davrin had set it, Lucanis did not think it would break in the face of too much noise. Even so, he was relieved that she was here, in her own space, and that the others had gone away for a time. 

“Why does she still sleep? Wake her up,” Spite said from the head of the settee she slept on, peering down at Rook’s drawn face. 

“Waking will hurt her,” Lucanis told him. “Her leg is still broken.”

“Then fix it, if it’s broken,” Spite said. 

Lucanis ignored the demon and leaned forward, glancing at Rook’s leg. The cold spell had reduced some of the swelling, though it was still visible under the second brace Bellara had brought her. The damage was clear beneath the metal and leather: her skin gone red and purple around the break, sliced to ribbons where the new growth had speared through it, dried blood still caked in the creases of her ankle where Lace hadn’t quite washed all of it away.

Like most Crows, his knowledge of healing was limited to the most basic necessities. In a fight, it was better to remove your opponent from the battle than to stop moving and patch up your fellows. He had studied certain medical writings in training, but only to better identify the weak points of his opponents. At most, he might’ve been able to bandage her wound long enough to get to safety, or perhaps offer one of the potions he kept on hand. In this—the bone jutting from her skin, the way she’d cried out when he’d lifted her from the ground, the tear tracks still visible on her cheeks now—in this, he’d been of no use at all. 

Even now, he was not entirely sure what she’d tried to do. Emmrich’s explanation had mostly been different versions of a horrified “why that spell” or “what an incredibly inadvisable course of action.” Lucanis had not disagreed with either statement, but he had not found them especially enlightening either. The necromancer had undone her spell, at least. He was glad of that.

“She smells all wrong,” Spite said, still peering at Rook. “All wrong.”

All the long way back to the Lighthouse, Spite had been uncharacteristically helpful. He had slipped beneath Lucanis’s skin seamlessly, as he once had in the early days in the Ossuary. He had done nothing but help speed them along, pushing their body faster than Lucanis might have been able to alone. It had seemed that they were, for once, of one mind, one mission: bring Rook somewhere safe and get her the help she needed. Everything else had been peripheral. 

It was…quiet now that the others were gone. This was a relief. It also meant he had far too much time to think. He might almost—almost—be grateful for the distraction Spite provided now. Whenever he turned to look at the fish, the water behind him, his stomach turned and his hands shook. As long as he faced forward, he could still pretend to ignore it. 

“Wrong,” Spite repeated. “Blood and elfroot and pain. Not like Rook.”

Lucanis sighed. He had not enjoyed carrying her back, though he would do it a hundred times over if she ever had need of such assistance again. It had been a fraught thing, willing her eyes to open again even though she would go on apologizing to him every time they did. He had a great deal of experience trying to hold still, but it had been worse to know that every involuntary shift of his body had caused hers pain. 

He had not liked carrying her, but it had been—he had felt—something to hold her pressed against him, to wrap her in his arms. She had clutched him to her, hands snarled in the belts at his chest, face pressed into his body. He had wished, on that long ride back, that he could curl himself around her and shield her from what she’d done, though it was a useless impulse. 

Useless and foreign besides; he had never felt such a thing before and did not know what to do with it now that he had. 

Now, his hand rested beside hers on the bed, close enough that he could feel the faint movements of her body when she breathed in and out. When Emmrich had finally deemed it safe, Lucanis had administered the healing potion to her himself. He’d slid a hand under her neck to tip her head back and ease its passage into her throat. Though he was no longer touching her, he could still feel the memory of the softness of her skin against his palm. 

Once, he had watched Rook tune her violin on one of the balconies outside the main tower. She’d struck a tuning fork against her knuckles and held it between two elegant fingertips, eyes closed to listen. The tone had spilled out into the air long after she’d touched it, humming until she finally set it aside to turn the small knobs at the top of her instrument. 

Lucanis supposed he did not feel so very different than that tuning fork now. The touch of her skin still hummed inside him, though he had long since let go. He could not help wondering if he should reach for her hand now, if only to still that hum. 

 “She needs to rest and heal. Then, she will smell like herself,” he told Spite.

Spite crouched, his nose an inch from Rook’s. Slowly, Lucanis’s smallest finger brushed against Rook’s.

“She should smell of incense,” Spite told her, as if to remind her. “Leaf-rot. Rosemary. The rest is wrong.” 

“She doesn’t smell like rotting leaves,” Lucanis said, as he had a dozen times before. Spite bared his teeth. “I don’t know why you always say that.”

“You’re wrong. She smells of sweet rot. Always. Only Rook ever does.” 

What use was there in arguing? It hadn’t swayed the demon yet, though they’d had this argument more than once. Lucanis shifted in his chair and found his hand resting against Rook’s. Should he let go? Leave? Work on finding a healer in Treviso they could bring her to? 

Her hand was so still, soft and cool in his.

When he had been a boy, there had been an illness (he could not recall what it had been; a fever, perhaps) and a dark room, bed hung with dark cloth. It had not been in Villa Dellamorte, but the home his parents kept. It had been—warmer, he thought. Less marble, more carved wood. One night, Lucanis had lain in the dark, ill and horribly lonely, and he had woken to find his father’s hand in his. What a comfort it had been, to know that he was not alone in the dark with his pain. 

Lucanis ignored Spite and curled his fingers around Rook’s. There were calluses on odd places near the first joints of her fingers. Musical in origin, he supposed, not caused by her staff. He had not seen them before, but now he could feel scars across her palms, across the backs of her hands. Where had she gotten them? He wondered if she would answer, should he ask.

It had seemed…foolish, potentially dangerous to hold her hand in most of the places they’d visited. What if one of them needed to draw a weapon? Precious seconds might be wasted in untangling themselves from each other. Beyond that, she would be a target if anyone knew that he wanted—that he thought—

“You will make sure she’s fixed,” Spite said, voice abruptly louder, and he leaned across the bed to put his face near Lucanis’s. “She won’t stay like this. It isn’t right.”

“Yes,” Lucanis agreed. “Neve is looking for a healer who can help. Emmrich has already undone the worst of whatever she did to her leg.”

Spite had been with Lucanis for more days than he’d been able to count, but he still had difficulty reading the demon’s expressions. He did not even know if they were facial expressions or if that was just how his mind interpreted Spite’s existence. On someone else, he might have thought the narrowed eyes and sneer meant displeasure. On Spite, it must have been approval instead because the demon winked out of existence a moment later. It was a relief when he was gone, as if some imperceptible background noise he never really heard had finally ceased.  

“Don’t worry,” Lucanis told Rook in the ensuing silence. “The others will find somebody to help. I’ll wait with you until they do. It’s not like I was sleeping anyway.”

She would have laughed at that. She liked to laugh, his—Rook liked to laugh. 

Her hand didn’t move in his. Still, he did not think he was imagining the growing warmth in her palm. Lucanis reached for the cup of coffee he’d set aside and sipped it without letting go of her. Whatever came next, he would be there. 

Even if nobody else had heard it, he’d made her a promise.

|

The first thing Lenore felt when she woke was the warmth wrapped around her hand. 

Pain followed quickly, but she’d been braced for that. She had not been braced for comfort and was less sure about what to do with it. 

“You’re awake,” Spite said, and Rook opened her eyes to look at him. 

The demon sat in a chair beside her bed, one foot propped on the seat while the other rested on the ground. He was the one holding her hand, of course. 

“I am,” she answered, studying him. “Did Lucanis fall asleep there or did you walk him here?”

Not what she was asking, really. What she meant was, which one of you decided to wait beside me while I was out? It would have been harder to ask that; harder still to admit to him how much she wanted to know. Better to sidestep it entirely. 

“Here,” Spite replied. “He promised. To stay.”

“And you didn’t want to make a run for it while everyone was distracted?” 

The ache in her leg was…significant, but better than she remembered in her awful, cluttered recollection of the moments following her injury. A cautious glance downward revealed only the usual quantity of bones. Nothing twisted past her shin, bones projecting outward and curling around each other like halla horns. She almost wished she believed in a god so she could thank them. 

“He promised,” Spite replied, as if it was the obvious answer. 

“Does Lucanis know that you keep his promises?” she asked, smiling at him. 

Spite smiled back slowly, each side of the mouth creeping up in turn, as if testing himself to see if he could. 

“No,” he said. “Are you. Fixed?” 

Mentally, she felt along her body. Her head felt better, she thought, though her leg was a miserable tangle of pain. The rest of her was stiff, as if she’d been lying still for a very long time.

“Not all the way. Something still hurts down there. But better than earlier, yes.” 

“Good. Your pain. Was wrong.” 

Wrong?

“Did it bother you to carry me around?” 

Rook thought to push herself up, try to sit, but thought better of it. She’d have to let go of his hand if she wanted to move and it hardly seemed worth it. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had held her hand. Actually—now that she was thinking about it, she couldn’t remember a time when anyone living had held her hand for longer than the time it took to lead her where she was supposed to be.

“No,” Spite replied at once, and looked as if he would go on. Abruptly, his face went blank and Lucanis blinked himself awake. 

“Rook,” he said. “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” she said. 

Now that she was awake, he would take his hand away. She was certain of it. She held very still so he wouldn’t notice that they were still holding onto each other. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. His forehead creased as he leaned closer, shifting until both feet rested firmly on the ground. 

“I’ve been better,” she said, but he did not laugh. “Feeling a little stupid. I feel like I should apol—”

“Don’t, Rook,” Lucanis said, lifting the hand that wasn’t holding hers as if to halt the words. “I think you’ve apologized enough. If I never hear you say ‘I’m sorry’ again, it will be too soon.”

“Did I? I don’t remember that.”

“Hm,” Lucanis said, the corner of his mouth twitching. Some strong emotion suppressed; not a smile, she thought. “Emmrich called it…perseveration. He said that those with head wounds often repeat phrases or thoughts, and you’d happened to choose that one.”

“You disagree?” Lenore asked. 

His thumb traced something on the back of her hand, slow and soft. She repressed a shiver at the sensation—so comfortable, so easy. It was like they touched each other casually all the time, which they certainly did not. He had made his interest clear—clear enough for her, at least—and yet they had still remained largely hands-off until now. 

“These marks on your hands,” he said, and paused. “I have seen others like them.”

“Have you?” 

The urge to snatch hers back and hide it under the blankets was immediate, the effort to ignore it not inconsiderable. Lucanis lifted his own hand, angling it so the light shone over the scar tissue there, criss-crossing his knuckles and the back of his hand in straight, silvery lines. Thicker than the ones on the backs of her hands, yes, but mostly the same.

“You are not a Crow,” he said. “You were not trained the way I was. Emmrich’s hands are largely unscarred. Those are very old—before you left the Necropolis.”

“Correct on all counts,” Lenore told him, and turned their hands so hers was pressed against the blanket and out of sight. 

He watched her for a moment, free hand settling slowly on the cot beside her leg. She wondered what he’d read in her face. She wondered what he wasn’t saying nearly as much as she hoped he wouldn’t keep talking about it.

“You do not have to apologize to me,” he said at last. “I was glad that I was the one with you when you fell.”

“You shouldn’t have had to carry me back,” she told him firmly, shifting her weight onto her elbow. Her grip tightened on his hand. “I’m meant to look after myself better than that. I should’ve—”

“Stop,” Lucanis said, squeezing her hand in turn. “Stop. I would do it again.” 

He was so very close—she hadn’t noticed him getting closer—and she still felt so awful, so grateful, and his hand was so warm in hers—

“Lucanis,” she murmured, as if speaking too loud would ruin something precious and fragile, “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

Lenore hadn’t been touched or held in so long. She had almost—almost—convinced herself that this didn’t bother her, that she didn’t care. She’d been wrong, though; she cared a great deal. Cared like a plant cared for watering, like strings longed for a bow. Before she could change her mind or retreat from him again, she was lifting her face to his and kissing him.

|

Lucanis could count on one hand the number of times he had kissed somebody, and nearly all of them had been in the process of completing a contract or training for the same. They’d all been more or less the same to him, the experiences blurring together into the same dull sensation, all duty and never desire. 

This—Rook’s face upturned, her soft mouth pressed to his—was like none of those other times. He hardly had time to recover from the shock of it before she was pulling away again, eyes searching his face. Too fast; not enough time to understand. He needed more.

On instinct, he reached behind her and cupped the back of her neck as he had before, carefully pressing her close to him once more. Her lips were soft and surprised under his, as if she had expected him to pull away. When he kissed her, she made a surprised sound and squeezed his hand.

 Had he worried that it was Spite, not Lucanis, who wanted to kiss her? Had he somehow believed that touching her would quiet the hum of fascination under his skin? All ridiculous, all incorrect; this was something entirely different. His hand fit at the back of her neck perfectly, as if it had been shaped precisely for this. He was barely kissing her, but the faint pressure of his mouth against his was almost overwhelming. He was already touching her, already holding her to him, and yet he was hungry for exactly that—as if the touch by its very existence required more of itself, required more of him. 

Too much. He withdrew, though he didn’t let go of her yet, and found her eyes still closed, her lips softly parted. 

What was he to do with this? He wanted to press his thumb to the pulse beating at her throat, wanted to lift her from the bed and hold her again, wanted to kiss the hand he held in his until—until what? 

“You should rest,” Lucanis told her, his voice so quiet he found himself surprised he’d said it aloud at all. 

Rook nodded once, eyes still closed, and pressed her lips together. When she moved, he could feel the shift of her spine under her skin. Would it feel the same if he held her hand while she moved, while she played her music for him, when she drew magic from the Fade? Would it feel the same with his hands around her hips, or her—

The thought was strange enough, foreign enough, that he let go and climbed to his feet. For a moment, Rook held very still, face still tilted. Lucanis took a step back, lest his hands betray him and reach for her again. 

“You’re still healing,” he told her, and took another step back when her eyes fluttered open. Her eyelashes were so fine against her skin, her eyes so warm and soft in the pale light of the water. He wanted to look closer. Instead, he stepped back again and wished he had something to do with his hands. Anything that would remove the sensation of her hand in his, her mouth so sweet against his. 

“I’ll check on you later,” he went on. “Somebody needs to start dinner, and a note from Teia and Viago arrived while you slept.”

“Lucanis,” she said, her voice soft and quiet. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Thank you. For staying, I mean. Both of you.” 

“Of course, Rook. Anytime,” he said, and slipped from the room before she could take him up on the offer. 

“Coward,” Spite hissed. 

Lucanis, striding briskly away from the door so he would not turn around and open it again, found he could not disagree.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Hey, sorry if I'm bothering you or anything. But I am curious, like what would happen if Bumblebee is a femme (female), and what are his teammates and crushes reaction to that?

Well, that's interesting.

There could be two takes on that, either she is a femme by forging or some freak incident with the allspark shard happened and turned him genderbend.

In my mind Cybertronians are aliens so they don't really need to represent themselves as male/female. I'd say the population is about 2/3ds of them having binary pronouns and expressions while the rest just does their own thing. Of couse, while this is a fairly common thing, that doesn't mean where aren't bad things like sexism or xenophobia (mostly towards warframes cuz majority are Decepticons).

If you're in a bad part of town, you might stumble into these types of bots. Minibots aren't takes as seriously as a normal civil frame would, but the lower in morale you go you'll find that these shady folks often treat minis as lap pets.

If Bee was a femme by forging she'd have a hard time staying out of trouble considering most mechs tried to harass her over he frame. Even if she wasn't the most femme-looking and curvy it was quite obvious she was in fact a femme. Most often than not mechs would comment on her big chest kibble.

Wasp was one of those mechs, he'd constantly try and grope the fellow mini and try to intimidate her to be his sparkmate ut it never worked. He thought she was playing tough but in reality she just wanted away from this creep. Thankfully Bulkhead turned out to be different; the mech tried to approach her many times and she just thought he wanted to hit her up too. Took a while and a Bulkhead defending her from Wasp to realize he just wanted to befriend her.

In case of crushes, Bee had 3; Longarm from the times of boot camp. Prowl from their times on earth and Blitzwing who she inconveniently found attractive during their battles.

I don't think it would be much different form how Bee would be treated as a mech. I mean, Longarm was essentially a school buddy, they got along well, maybe something blossomed and it only became something serious once on earth.

Prowl is the exact same, he'll treat Bee the same way he'd treat him as a mech. But I can see few folks teasing him about having no sense of personal space when he and Bee are bickering. Who knows, maybe one day after a much heated fight between the two, Prowl will wake up and realize Bee has been on his mind all the time and is not as annoying as he makes himself believe.

Blitzwing- honestly, he'd be smitten the first time he sees her. He's been trying his luck in the Legion but everyone always turns him away, mostly due to his condition. But then he sees this tiny cute femme with sharp glossa and visible enjoyment for odd things and he's all over her. He'll flirt in the middle of the fight and pretend they're dancing and not trying to off one another. He'll bring her flowers and stolen objects he'd think she might like, Bee is so tired of this adorator but at the same time she really enjoys it. The others are just annoyed at his courting.

If Bee was somehow turned femme on Earth it would be pretty funny. I've actually had an idea a while back on this.

They were trying to reach the shard but it was one of the unstable ones; it caused everything around to go haywire and, as one of the weirdest things it did, it transformed various machinery into other things. Like forklifts shifted parts to become ice cream machines spurting oil, that sort of thing. They managed to get it but of course, Bee has been hit in the process. he woke up and only after the others saw him he realized what happened. He was a tad more curvy than his mech self, his subspace was now hanging from his hips and he has door wings. His horns were a bit thinner and longer and his peded gained heel struts much like Prowl had. Even his voice shifted to be on a higher note.

At first he was freaking out but over time he got used to it, maybe even like it. The others were sure surprised and had to adjust but there wasn't much issues. Well, except Optimus who seemed a tad uneasy at the sight whenever they spoke.

I would say Prowl was definitely surprised at the sudden change, more surprised when he caught himself being nicer towards Bee in general. They were working on a way to reverse this back since Bee seemed to want his old look back but overtime Prowl noticed Bee changing his demeanor when speaking on the topic. One time he approached the scout when he was sitting alone on the roof and asked what was wrong. Bee then asked him if how he'd feel if he stayed like this instead of going back to his old self.

Prowl didn't expect that but said that if he wants to stay like this he should do it. Bee confessed he has grown to enjoy being a femme, he was glad the one he cared about the most was supportive of it. Ratchet understood too, he just wished Bee would've told him sooner so he wouldn't have spend a good amount of their resources preparing for the frame upgrading. And so Bee officially became a femme and even switched his pronouns to be she/her. It was a short while before everyone got the hang of it and all was good. Well, except Sentinel who now not only harassed Bee cuz he hated him but also was being a creep. But except for that all was good.

Blitzwing's reaction would be when they are already dating and Bee shows up wearing a blanket, covering it up as him being cold. At some point Blitz accidentally rips the blanket off and sees Bee's frame. He wasn't sure why Bee was so nervous about it, those were great upgrades! Then he heard how he got those "upgrades" and it made sense. He still loved Bee and didn't care one bit about his new look- well, except the door wings, he couldn't get enough of them and knowing all the common sensitive spots for flight frames he had one hell of a fun time watching Bee be all flustered and fluttery when he touched them. When Bee showed up to another meeting with much more confident attitude he knew something was up. Bee told him about the plans to bring back his old look so he was quite surprised to hear that was scrapped and Bee was a she now. Of course he gave her extra loving that night and maybe they discovered a few new things about her anatomy. Blitz certainly enjoyed every bit of his new-old Bee.

Idk is Longarm/Shockwave would care much. Longarm is more on the mech expression, Shockwave has nb vibes with he/him pronouns. He'd support Bee during his journey of coping and discovery and he'd be happy when Bee finds his new self that he's happy with. i'm not really sure what to write here tbh.

And that's it. Hope you liked it!

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Peaceful days at the base

[sunandmoonkeeper]

I just love the Hideout series by doberman217. Had to draw a scene from Orange and Purple （*’∀’人）♥ I think this is like my 4th re-read lol.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

TFA

So one day Bumblebee locks himself in his room and comes out a week later with a Sparkling in his arms announcing to everyone, in the most casual yet proud way in the universe, that he has a baby. The entire base freaks out because, number 1: Bumblebee had a baby and, number 2: no one knows who the Sire is.

The entire team, after much chaos, scolding, and Bee yelling at them to shut up because they scare his little femme, finally calm down and accept the Sparkling as part of the group and promise to take care of her and support Bee with all.

Overall, everyone is very sweet and helpful, always there supporting Bee (who turns out, surprisingly, to be a great Carrier) and the little one. They are very kind, caring and understanding.

The problem comes when, eventually, suspicions about the Sire become more and more serious because Bee keeps saying that "there is no Sire" when asked about it, as if it were normal, and the Autobots start to wonder if it's possible that they're a Decepticon. They run to Ratchet (who has examined the baby to make sure she's healthy) to ask if he has any idea who is responsible, but he refuses again and again. When they ask if it's possible a Decepticon, Ratchet finally gets angry, believing that they're accusing Bee of betrayal, and tells them that no, if they were, Sparkling would have Decepticon traits, since Cons CNAs are very dominant. The little girl is an identical copy of Bee.

That actually doesn't help at all to solve the mystery and instead turns the base into a game of Sherlock Holmes because now all the robots are paranoid about the other being the Sire. When they're with the mom and the baby they pretend to be normal but when they're alone they accuse each other (they're also twice as suspicious because they've all been very affectionate with Bee and the baby since she was born and that makes them look more guilty) they even accuse Ratchet but that ends soon because Bee starts trying to get his baby to say the names of the team and when they get to him he tries to teach her how to say "grandpa".

In general, everything is a disaster that pretends to be normal around the little ones.

The Plot Twist: Neither is the Sire. No one. Bee is actually part Insecticon and that makes him able to reproduce via parthenogenesis like bees, meaning he has given birth to a clone of himself. Ha.

I wasn’t expecting this plot twist but i like it, Picasso.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

forgor to put here even tho its late but still happi new years

[sunandmoonkeeper]

It was, in fact what the autobots were thinking.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

18+ content warning! Like not for under 18s, please and thank you.

Was feeling silly so drew my baby girls being freaks 🤭

[sunandmoonkeeper]

autograph exchange

[sunandmoonkeeper]

STAR TREK - S1E15 Shore Leave

[sunandmoonkeeper]

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Divorced dads Optimus and Megatron have to spend Christmas together for their sons. Chaos ensues.

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Brining back your HC that TFA Bee is half insectacon I have a bit of a sad & sweet idea.

While it had been no one's idea to go the team were forced to head back to Cybertron due to Optimus needing to take part of an important meeting. Of course the Prime tried to go alone but his friends refused to let him go alone just in case he needed help. Since they would be stuck on Cybertron for a few weeks the team decide to explore, meeting up with old friends and family or checking out the city.

Bumblebee on the other hand was just walking down a street alone, he could have gone with Bulkhead to see the new race track that they built or joined Jazz at his buddies party but for some reason he found himself walking alone. Something was pulling at his spark, telling him to follow and quickly. It wasn't long until Bee found himself standing at the border of Iaon city, what he saw next made his energon run cold.

Just as Bee was about to turn back a large insectacon emerged form the shadows hissing and clicking its mandibles as he it approached Bumblebee. Despite its vicious jaws the insectacon never attacks, instead it leans down giving the yellow mech a quick sniff before nuzzling Bumblebee. Insecatcon's can smell one of their own from miles away and being sociable beans they quickly try and pick up any wandering strays, no matter if they are lost or not.

"Hey that tickles!" Bee giggled as he gently pushes the bugs mandibles away before giving his own little greeting chirp. "Its been a while since I've seen you, Snapjaw how have you been?"

"Good, little Bee returns to the hive after so long?" Snapjaw clicked as her wings buzzed happily. "Have the plain mechs been treating you well? Do they know you share the hive's blood?"

Bee cringed a little quickly wrapping one arm around the other as he gave a sheepish smile. "Eh, could be better my team is nice though. But they don't know who I'm really am...yet"

"You should tell them soon, I can smell your brood cycle starting in a few days. Do you have any mates planed?" Snapjaw grumbled already fussing over their small friend.

"Oh scrap, that's starting so soon?!" Panic filled Bee's spark as he quickly ran a hud scan. Just as he assumed a warning pop-up telling him about his frame temperature slowly beginning to rise as well as warning to informing that his tanks will be active in a few days. "Scrap...I forget to take suppressers this month. Thanks for the warning Snapjaw"

"Take care little Bee, remember you're always welcomed with the hive" With a quick buzz Snapjaw opened her wings and took off heading back towards the outskirts.

Quickly heading back into the city Bumblebee made a dash towards for Ratchet's place hoping he could borrow any last moment heat suppressers. While his heat cycles weren't any different form a normal bots there was a down side, he became rather broody and grumpy, if he failed to fill his tanks with transfluid he would end up laying dud eggs, normally he would quickly destroy them before anyone found out that's how he kept bots normally in the dark about his heritage but being on Cybertron and staying in barracks with his team meant the risk of getting found was too great. Bee cursed himself for not keeping better track of his cycles as he barged into the clinic he knew Ratchet was currently helping out at.

_____

The pale lights buzzed as Ratchet quickly rummaged through his first aid kit grumbling. "You couldn't have informed me before we got to Cybertron kid?" The medic turned his attention to Bumblebee who was standing awkwardly in the corner of the room.

"I thought it wouldn't be until much later..." Bee shuffled looking away being unable to look Ratchet in the optic.

"Well, sorry to break it to yer kid, but I'm all out of suppressers. You can try and see if any store has any or try your luck in asking a old friend to see if you can borrow one. Other than that, you're stuck having this cycle" Ratchet crossed his arms giving a soft huff. "Want me to give you a couple of spike wraps just in case?"

"Sure, thanks Doc bot" Bumblebee gave a small smile as he tired not to panic. He knew he could trust his team not to bother him during his cycle but he really didn't want them discovering who he truly was. There have been to many horror stories of hybrid mecha being executed for being 'freaks' and he really didn't want to be one of them. "Mech, this sucks..."

"Sadly, heat cycles are just what happens to young bots. A price to pay in order to make more sparklings" Ratchet grumbled as he handed the wraps to Bee. "Now I've informed the others about this and they should leave you alone, but if you want too you can still ask someone to join you if it helps speed things along. Just be careful"

"I will, thanks again Ratchet" Quickly turning Bee left the room and then headed back out into the city. Dragging a servo down his face he let out a long frustrated sigh already feeling the signs of pre heat. Maybe Ratchet was right, having a partner would speed things along much quicker. Quickly looking down at the spike wraps in his servo Bee then pulls up his comm link sending a ping to one of the few mechs he trusted fully, hoping it wouldn't be so sudden or weird. "Hey Prowl, uh want to help a mech out?"

^_^

SMILEY THIS IS WONDERFUL ALLDIOSIDOOSOKX KAI!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Hey hope you had a wonderful holiday! I bring part 2 for that TFA insecticon Bumblebee :D

The next few days were a blur, between the mess of his heat cycle and starting to pack up to return back to Earth to say Bee was a little stressed would be a under statement. During the middle of packing up his blankets and little trinkets he brought the store Bumblebee let out a long sigh looking down at his puffy tanks. Normally the dud eggs would have been laid already but this time they were taking much longer it was like Bee was being taunted by fate.

"If you decide to emerge during the trip back home, I'm going to eat my own servo..." Bumblebee huffed as he put away the last of his trinkets into his travel crate.

"Hey Bee, are you all set for home?" Another voice spoke entering the room. Optimus had a warm but tired smile on his face clearly the important meetings had drained the young prime. "Do you need help with putting the crates on the ship?"

Bumblebee turned giving Optimus a warm smile. "Nope! I'm good Boss bot" He quickly turned to the side in order to hide his tanks he know if he showed the slightest hint of illness Optimus would drag him to Ratchet, someone he really didn't want to see right now.

"That's good to know" Optimus hummed as he stepped closer putting a servo on the yellow mech's shoulder. "But are you alright? Ever since...that, you've been rather grumpy"

"Optimus...I'm fiiinnne" Bee groaned rolling his optics. "I've always been grumpy after heat cycles, Ratchet says its normal so I'm not sick"

The prime sighed patting Bee on his shoulder again. "Alright, just making sure. I'll see you on the ship" With a quick turn on his heel Optimus left likely heading out to check on the others and if they needed help with their own packing.

Once alone again Bumblebee gave a sigh dragging one servo down his face while he placed the other on his tanks tapping it gently. With a quick glance over his shoulder Bee grabbed his crate and headed out into the hall before walking towards the door getting ready to leave.

-----

As the ships engines hummed and the rest of the team talked among themselves, Bee had found himself sitting alone staring out of one of the windows just watching the passing stars and galaxy. He wasn't sure how long he was zoning out until he felt a light jab in his tanks causing him to jolt, with a hiss he rubbed the spot with his servo before getting to his pedes. Just his luck, looks like he was going to have to keep his promise. With a pep in his step he made a dash for his room not noticing the blue visor closely watching him. Quickly locking the door Bee gave a sort groan as he began setting up a make shift nest, this wasn't his first time so he knew what to expect but it didn't help that it would be a long and tiresome processes.

Just as he assumed the next couple hours were just as long as Bee had assumed. Letting out a soft groan he bit down on his servo to muffle the noises coming from his voice box as his tanks rippled with pain. Below him resting in the nest of blankets were 3 eggs, their shells were dark and deflated a clear sign the weren't viable. The last egg however was taking longer to emerge as Bee gave a whimper forcing him to hunch forwards. With one finale gasp the burning pressure in his tanks faded as the 4th and finale egg joined the nest, letting out a pleased sigh Bee gazed down at the clutch only for his optics to go wide with shock and fear.

"Scrap! No, no, no!" The yellow mech reached forwards scouping the 4th egg from the nest and into his servos. Unlike its clutch mates this egg had a bright blue shell as well as being a healthy oval shape. It was a perfect viable egg. "Oh scrap, frag! What I'm I going to do?!"

A sudden knock at the door quickly drew Bee from his thoughts. Quickly covering the clutch with a blanket and wiping away any energon from his thighs Bumblebee got to his shaking pedes and unlocked the door. On the other side was Prowl with a worried expression on his face.

"Bumblebee, are you alright?" The tall mech softly spoke as he scanned the yellow mech's face for clues. "You've been locked in your room for hours....everyone is starting to get worried"

Taking in a deep vent Bee gave his best fake smiles while also hiding his field not wanting to show his true feelings. "Oh, yeah I'm fine. I've must have fallen into recharge when watching a holo vid. Sorry about that Prowler"

Prowl however didn't look so convinced with a gentle servo he reached out cupping Bee's cheek. "Are you sure?"

Absently minded Bumblebee leaned into the gentle touch being remined of those weeks ago when Prowl had taken such care with him during his heat. "Yeah I'm good, really"

Pulling away the slim mech gave a soft sigh before turning to the side. "If you're so sure, I won't push you but I will inform you that we are almost back at Earth. So get ready to unpack"

Nodding Bumblebee watched as Prowl headed back down the hall, once he was out of sigh Bee let out a sigh before quickly re locking his door. Turning his attention back to the nest Bee tore away the blankets double checking the eggs to make sure he wasn't seeing things. No the 4th egg remained the same un changed and now glowing a bright shade of blue, with a soft grumble Bee scouped up the egg in his servos again pulling it close to his chest while his optics blinked back tears. He could faintly feel the forming spark beat softly inside its smooth shell causing Bee to shut his optics tighter then before while his plating bristled in frustration and fear.

"What am I going to do?"

^_^

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE AND TO YOU MY SMILEY!!!! I HOPE YOU ARE WELL & I LOVE THIS SO VERY MUCH!!!!

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Bringing you part 3 for TFA insecticon Bee :D

Bumblebee hated lying, he truly hated it as every time he told a lie his spark burned with guilt. Unfortunately for most of his life Bee had been forced to lie over again and again, even now he was lying to his team mates. At first it was just about his past and who he truly was now...he had a bigger secret to keep.

Pacing back and fourth in his hab Bee let out a panicked sigh as he glanced back at the nest that sat hidden in the corner of the room. Inside the egg was brightly glowing as its hue had only gotten stronger as the weeks passed, it was due to hatch any moment now. Bee wasn't sure how'd he manged to keep the secret for so long but he knew the moment it hatched he wouldn't be able to keep it a secret anymore. Of course he can make up another lie about how he found a lone sparkling but if this bitty turned out to look too much like their Sire Bumblebee would find himself being asked some serious questions, especially from Prowl.

Falling back against his wall the yellow mech let out another sigh while his gaze drifted down until he was looking at his servos. "I fragged up big time. When boss bot finds out he'll- he'll..." he quickly covered his face with his servos trying to hide from the guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry..."

As to answer their Carrier's voice the egg shook for a few moments quickly followed by a crack. It would shake a couple more times before finally breaking open, a small chirp escaped calling out. Bumblebee quickly rushed to nest looking down at the tiny frame only to meet tiny bright optics looking up at him. Reaching out Bee scouped the sparkling into his arms, a small smile forming on his lips as he checked over his sparkling. The sparkling was a femme with bright gold optics, her frame was sleek with a dark smokey black base with thin yellow accents. A small chevron curved along her helm like a crown while on her back two long fragile wings softly buzzed. She was perfect in Bee's optics.

"Hey its okay, Carrier is here" Bumblebee cooed as he nuzzled his bittie's helm giving a gentle soothing chirp. "Its alright, I'm not going any where"

As the sparkling settled nuzzled closer to her Carrier's chest, Bee gave a soft sigh looking back at his door wondering what he should do next. Even if he told everyone the truth would his team even accept them, accept the hybrid bots they were? For now he can worry about later as for now he had a sparkling to bond with.

------

Meanwhile Prowl walked down the base's hall heading for Ratchet's office. Normally Prowl would keep these kind of questions to himself or meditate until he found the answer for himself, but this question was a bit more personal and rather difficult to answer. With a slow knock Prowl gave a sort huff as he stood outside the office waiting for an answer.

"Come in"

Stepping inside Prowl quickly found the spare seat quickly settling down on the chair while keeping his helm down. While Ratchet had put away his data pad he was currently reading only to give a sort grunt as he sat down at his desk.

"What brings you here Prowl, are you sick?" The medic grumbled as he crossed his arms scanning the sleek mech in front of him.

"No, I'm well Ratchet" Prowl spoke as he finally turned his attention to Ratchet while his digits tapped against each other nervously. "In fact, I wanted some advice..."

"I see, well gone on then" Ratchet raised a brow as he leaned back in his chair. It was rare for young bots to ask for advice other than medical so his interest was peaked.

"Its about Bumblebee, I can't help but feel like he's avoiding me. Normally I wouldn't think much about it...ever since his heat cycle its just been tense..." Prowl sighed as he allowed his frame to sulk a little. He let like an idiot for not seeing this sooner.

Ratchet rolled his optics giving a sigh, of course he knew what was going on he's seen this happen before to plenty young couples. "Ah, I see. Well I can't blame you both for being a little stiff around each other. Heats are rather personal things and dose take a great deal of trust between bots, however sometimes after a cycle ends you find yourself wanting more than a quick frag"

Prowl just blinked taking in the medic's words. His spark quickened in his chest while his tanks fluttered. "Are you suggesting that I might be...in love with Bumblebee?"

"Well, are you?" Ratchet scoffed giving his famous scowl.

For a moment Prowl paused as he begin to think. While both Bee and himself often butted helms due their different interests and personalities, he couldn't help but be found of the yellow mech. His face grew hot when he remembered their nights spent during Bee's heat, how he softly moaned and begged Prowl to be gentle as they kissed as their frames rocked in rhythm. "I-I think you might be right, Ratchet"

The medic smirked as he rose from his seat. "Well, take it from an old mech. Don't waste your time rusting away hoping or wishing for answer go and find out yourself, trust me you won't regret it that way"

"I will, thank you Ratchet" Prowl smiled warmly as he got up and headed for the door. He knew the medic was right he couldn't just sit and waited for a sign. He was going to talk to Bumblebee tonight!

As Ratchet watched Prowl leave his office, the old mech just chuckled to himself as he turned his attention to an old photo on his desk. "Young mechs, am I right Drift?"

^_^

Aaahhh smiley!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lskcoowicisaoikaiskdujwicocojvoxdvpbogxidby saw hupoghocpvuvguvtuugjgjfuh lh

I LOVE THIS!!!!

GO GET YOUR MAN PROWL!!!!

AND FIND OUT YOU HAVE A SPARKLING TO TOP IT OFF!!!!!!!!

Thank you for sharing 🥰

[sunandmoonkeeper]

Last part of TFA insecticon Bee because he deserves a happy ending :)

That night was peaceful, the stars shone brightly while the moon glowed blanking the forest in its gentle glow. Prowl stood nervously at the lake's edge watching as fish swam by un bothered by the sleek mech. Despite not getting a verbal answer from Bee eariler in the day the yellow mech did send him a comm ping saying he would be here, he hoped what ever was keeping Bumblebee busy wasn't too important. Softly humming Prowl sat down on the grass and closed his optics hoping a quick meditation would calm his nerves.

It had only been a few klicks when the sound of second pede steps were heard. Leaping to his own pedes Prowl scanned the tree line quickly spotting the familiar shade of yellow out from the dark shades of brown and green. Instead of a giddy smile or smirk on Bee's face there was a frown with a hint of guilt and fear in the mechs optics. Prowl's spark quickly tightened with worry as he took a couple steps forwards.

"Bumblebee, is everything alright?" He took a couple more steps closer until the fear in Bee's field forced him to stop.

"I-Prowl, I'm so sorry" Bumblebee shook his helm as he took deep vents not wanting to cry. "I should have told you weeks ago but I was afraid...I'm so, so sorry"

Prowl was stunned, he wasn't sure what had gotten Bee worked up or so afraid so he opened his field allowing comfort to fill the air as he took a step forwards. "Sorry about what? What's happened?"

Bumblebee blinked back tears as his whole frame vibrated with the wave of his emotions. Suddenly the yellow mech fell to knees as the guilt finally over came him. "The truth! About me about our sparkling!"

"What...?"

Despite the shock Prowl kneeled down grabbing a hold of Bee's servos with his own. While he wasn't sure what was going on it broke his spark to see Bumblebee like this. Giving a gentle squeeze he leaned down giving a soft nuzzle. "Just vent Bee, tell me what's wrong slowly"

Bumblebee sighed leaning into the gentle nuzzle with his own. "Its hard for me to put this into words. But I'm not the mech you know...not truly" Taking in another sharp vent he lifted his gaze looking up at Prowl. "The truth is...I'm a hybrid. My creators were a insecticon and a normal bot. I may never met them but they left their mark on my life and I never told any one because I was afraid, afraid you would all hate me and..." He'd shut his optics waiting for Prowl to yell at him, to call him a freak.

"And...?"

Bumblebee gave a soft whimper as he opened his optics slowly. "And you may have sired a sparkling..." He leaned back watching the shock slowly wash over Prowl's face.

"Are you certain, I mean 100% certain I'm the Sire?" This wasn't how planed this evening to go, he had planed to confess his feelings to Bumblebee but now he has learned about Bee's past and that he now has a sparkling.

"Yes, you're the only mech I saw during my cycle who else?" Bumblebee barely had time to speak again when he was suddenly pulled into a hug.

Prowl had never felt such joy or worry in his spark, not only did he now have a sparkling but he also had Bee to protect and care for. He wasn't going to leave their side, on Earth or Cybertron. "I'm sorry too, for making you feel like you couldn't tell me. Forgive me Bumblebee"

Tears fell from Bee's optics as he buried his face into the sleek mech's shoulder, softly weeping. "Yeah, okay...I forgive you"

-------

After that night things changed for the team both good and bad. While the surprise of both Bee's and Prowl's little surprise sparkling shocked everyone, the team couldn't have been more supportive. Optimus quickly took to the role of Grand carrier, despite the mech being barely a couple of cycles older than the pair themselves. The prime was often seen spoiling the little femme giving her treats or driving around the city in his Alt-Mode with the little one safely tucked away in his seats. Of course Ratchet gave one of his important lectures hoping the next time someone decided to have a sparkling it would be rather planed than a surprise. The bad part however, with Bee's and his daughter's insecticon heritage discovered meant the Auto Bot Guard was looking down harshly on them. Most bots who were once friendly with Bee quickly stopped talking to the yellow mech often looking at him with disgust or fear, Sentinel was one of the worst ones often making snide remarks under his vents as he walked past.

Despite their hardships they still had a few close friends on Cybertron, they often sent gifts or letters asking if they were okay and doing well. Bee had even received a rather funny letter from Kup posing in front of a rowdy group of bots who seemed to be in the middle of a party game considering the high grade glasses scattered everywhere. While he flicked through the letters next to him Prowl has drifted off into recharge with their daughter on his chest, Bumblebee couldn't be any happier even though he misses his friends on Cybertron but he knew as long as he had his team and family he couldn't be anywhere else in the galaxy.

^_^

(PS: I swore I put on Anon in the last post, whoops accidental name drop lol)

Sorry you name dropped if you want it deleted i will, no problem 🥰

I also love this story & the ending smiley 😊 thank you very much for sharing

[sunandmoonkeeper]

got inspired for a few pre Rebels doodles