Bumbleblitz - Tumblr Posts

Postwar Autobots join the Nemesis AU, but I continue to be obsessed with these large men not knowing how to flirt about anything outside of violence or interface

Idk where I was going with this lol ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ but have some blitzbee.

You ever had an impulsive thought like standing somewhere high and think “Jump off” and have to scold yourself for it?

Yeah that’s blitzwing but 10x more intense lol.

Autobots join the Nemesis AU, and start accidentally awakening the dormant protection programming in the war machines

(Megatron punches Ultra Magnus for being mean to Optimus at some point and a new war breaks out)

Bee, many orbital cycles into carrying, is effectively losing his sanity anytime his tiny sparkling flutters their wingies around the inside of his gestation chamber.

Bee waking up Blitzwing like a cat with the zoomies at 2 am, because he needs to alleviate this terrible fluttering in his tummy somehow, and jolting out of berth to race around the furniture is all he’s got.

Random thinks revving his engines while he’s got Bee in a hug will cancel out the maddening flutters, if he’s loud enough, but all it does is make their sparkling reciprocate in kind to their sire’s aerial language with more vibrations and wingy flaps.

Bumblebee nearly tears the armrests off his chair during a cross faction briefing when the sparkling does a little flip and clips their wings on the chamber’s inner lining as they essentially dive bomb.

It’s like housing a very soft, but very volatile firecracker in his abdomen that could go off at any second- or more precisely, whenever it feels their sire close by. Bumblebee blames their child’s eccentricness entirely on Blitzwing.

He’s certainly not to blame for their dramatics, no ma’am. Bumblebee’s a docile little wallflower U.U

Hold the baby tenderly, but also toughly

Oh God- that size ratio is not my fault

Truce AU/ceasefire AU (or just an AU where the Cons have to be civil with Team Prime to survive some obscure writer’s block threat) and Blitzwing gets a crack in his under wing that stretches too far for it to be safely used.

He’s out of commission, until Ratchet can get to his location. When he does, he barks orders at the other Cons and anyone in his way to give him space and secure the area.

It feels like a lot of fuss to Blitzwing, but he bites his glossa about saying so.

Ratchet has him lay on his stomach, using his arms to pillow his face so he can watch Ratchet work on his extended wing. Watching the medicbot lift it in his careful servos from underneath its shadow.

Ratchet’s gentle- he stops working anytime he feels Blitzwing tense. Tentative scarlet optics betraying nothing.... but Ratchet knows better.

It’s throwing Blitzwing for a loop, all this worrying....

Decepticon medics wouldn’t tolerate anything more than a few twitches and pained shudders from an injured bot- having to provide resources to the masses of war frames without proper conditions to treat them, and especially without proper resources. Taking their time, looking for signs of discomfort, slowing down or stopping if their patient isn’t at least to the point of passing out.... all unheard of.

Ratchet stops again to pat his side, making Blitzwing flinch.

“Ok, kid. This parts gonna hurt, so feel free to tell me allll about it, as loud as you want.”

Ratchet checks his work over first, granting him those few precious kliks before the misery to come. Glancing at Blitzwing’s confused face one final time, then retrieving his welder.

Blitzwing doesn’t lash out, despite the obvious burn in his chassis.

“You’re doing great, by the way.” Ratchet hums, physically feeling the need to ease the ache *somehow*. The Con’s doing amazing, even, considering the rawness and lack of sensor blockers Ratchet’s having to work with.

Blitzwing stays absolutely still, so as not to bother Ratchet any further beyond all the effort he’s expended on him. But damn the pits and back again, it *hurts*. It hurts...

He buries his helm into his arms and waits there for it to be over. Vaguely aware of the bug bot’s EM field prickling and surging from where he watches on jittery pedes with his teammates.

Finally, the welder pulls away, followed by a warm servo offering another reassuring pat. This one lingers.

He receives Ratchet and Megatron’s approval that he’ll recover after a solar cycle of proper rest. As if any of them can afford that right now.

It isn’t until Ratchet checks up on him later, poking around his wing and lifting it to test whether his hinges are taking the weight of the injury well enough to fly so soon that Blitzwing thanks him for.... his kindness. His civility. His respect and care. Confusing as it all is.

“Bah. Don’t bother thanking me, you’ll get yourself in medbay before my work will’a paid off anyway. Reckless bunch a brutes.”

Which wasn’t true, as thus far, the Cons had been substantially more suited for keeping themselves out of stupid mishaps compared to the bug bot and Bulkhead. And Prowl, by seemingly continuous bad cosmic luck.

Then Ratchet smooths a servo down his good wing, wearing a somber look as he turns tired optics on Blitzwing’s wide ones at the contact.

“Just don’t do anything to yourself I can’t fix. I’m your medic now, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

He doesn’t say how it’d be beyond him to fix Bee’s processor, if something fatal ever happened to the Lieutenant. Or that he’s already put his much work into showing a ‘brutish’ war frame the care he honestly deserves for looking out for Ratchet and his own. This is all very new and all very sensitive for everybot right now, and Ratchet’s not ready to give any of those troubling thoughts life just yet, much less voice them.

“My...medic?”

Ratchet blinks for a moment, trying to connect the importance of that bit in particular to Blitzwing. He hadn’t gotten wise with age by hiding his helm in his servos all this time. It makes sense all the sudden that’s be the thing the war frame focuses on (Unfortunately, as Ratchet really, *really* hates having to be obvious about his concerns for others).

“Yeah, kid.” He snaps, hands on his hips and glaring accusingly.

“You’re one of ours now, however long this peace slag lasts for, so I’m in charge of your bonkers aft. Don’t make me use restraints on you in the future.”

Blitzwing understands defensive language much, much better than soft touches and careful words, and something shifts and fills and *burns* deep in his chassis.

He understands, then, that he’s going to learn to speak through tenderness, too, because he’s one of *their’s* now. One of Rathcet’s.

—- ——

✨anytime after when Blitzwing gets a minor scratch, he dutifully sits very still for Ratchet to buff it out and just basks in all the affection.

Also when anyone he cares about gets hurt, he goes full frantic getting them to the angry, tender medic man, Ratchet, because he knows Ratchet will dote on them in his rude, brackish way just for being Blitzwing’s comrade. Because he CARES ABOUT HIS TRIPLE CHANGER FOOL FRIEND, AND HE’S BLITZ’S ADOPTED DEN MOTHER

(watch me coddle a poor baby war machine)

💕Continued ceasefire AU, but just Bumblebee doting on his injured man (I am humiliating myself further. As a treat.)

— ———-

Blitzwing separates his servos from where they’d been grasping the corners of the horrible makeshift berth. The moment he’d been cleared to leave the medbay, he’d wandered off with helm held high before succumbing pathetically in the safety of his room. Ratchet was through babysitting him, now worrying over injecting some sense into a battered Prime with needlework they’d both rather have avoided, and ordered him to his quarters- *without flying*.

Well, duh, he’d only just fixed this splitting ache of a wing a few cycles ago, and he’d already nearly gotten his wingtips sheered off. Another trip to medbay, nothing excruciatingly serious, but he’d failed (purposely) to mention how it’d made the nearly healed wound in his underwing throb to life again.

Ratchet’s spectacular medical prowess was no match for a war frame’s personal baggage. What kind of Decepticon (was he even one of those still? Was Megatron really getting closer and closer every astrosecond to throwing old resentment out the window for a gaggle of crazed repair bots?) would he be if he allowed himself to show weakness and buckle under a little pain?

He’d be a terrible one, considering. That didn’t mean he was above quietly taking it out on his berth once away from prying optics. He scraped at the metal, warped it with thick, gouging claws, and held the edges in a death grip as a wave of unholy heat seared the sensors inside the near invisible seam Ratchet’s welder had left.

Logically, and Blitzwing genuinely preferred to conduct himself through the logical side of things, he should of told Ratchet. Logically, he should gather himself up with what pride he had left and go tell the medicbot now...

Logically.

And he definitely would once the others had been tended to. He would, for sure.

Blitzwing flicked his wings, spite getting the better of him, and melted as much as a body tense with sensor pricking pain could into his berth. He lay there with his cheekplate smashed into a fresh claw mark and waited for recharge to prioritize itself over any subroutines screaming at him to scratch at his healing wounds like some carnal instinct.

He was no more closer to restful stasis hours later when a timid knock sounded at his door.

“Ja?” He replied, helm snapping up, listening.

“U-um...” It was the bug bot.

Blitzwing peeled himself away and stood at attention.

“Come in.”

Bumblebee was allowed entry, and he wasted no time in filling up the room with his unique... Bumblebee-ness. Blitzwing was finding it harder and harder to dislike the rambunctious slagger’s presence.

“Hey, how come I’ve never been in here before? There’s nothing here! Why do you always tell me to buzz off?”

“Because jou’re name’s Bumblebee, and it’s funny. Is jour room a cluttered heap or sumving?” What mysteries was the minibot hiding in his significantly smaller room? He talked a lot about video games. Maybe whatever those were.

“Pssh, oh, slag, yeah. Haven’t seen the floor in ages.” The minibot shrugged, surveying the disturbing blankness of Blitzwing’s walls. No shelves either.

“But that’s not the point. I didn’t come here to talk about what it’s like to have a personality.”

Good, Blitzwing had enough of those, thanks. A ‘cool’ one wasn’t necessary when ‘crazy’ was keeping company.

He arched an optic ridge.

“Oh? And vut did you come here for?”

WHIRR

“To clog my processor with your nonsense ramblings?!”

“Well, in a way... sorta.”

Bumblebee was either brave or stupid- likely both- when he made the decision to come any closer to a moody Blitzwing. A third option was simply that he was becoming immune to the unpredictability bound to accompany their conversations. Lugnut had fairly quickly, once he’d realized the triple changer wasn’t a threat. To a fellow Con, at least.

The only hint of a sensible Autobot still rattling around in that reckless little body was his obvious concern upon seeing the state of the berth. Blitzwing could do that to him- cut him into ribbons, crush him with a bare palm. Snap his servos off without more than a pinch.

That, surprisingly, didn’t seem to be his issue with the shredded slab, though.

“I came to see if you’re ok... Doesn’t look like it...”

Blitzwing felt an unwelcome warmth in his faceplates.

“Zis mess of metal isn’t sturdy enough for my frame, zat’s all. I can’t get comfortable without punching a hole in it somevere... So annoying.”

It was sort of true, but also mostly just an embarrassing attempt to reroute his clear misery from Bee’s understanding of the situation. War frames should be better about hiding these soft parts of themselves. *He* should be better.

When he spun back to blue, looking down into wide optics, he noticed Bumblebee had closed the few extra steps between them.

“Wow, ok.” He snorted.

“*That* was a whole buncha lies, wasn’t it? I mean, come on, Bulkhead can’t go a cycle without smashing something, and he’s managed to keep his berth in one piece.”

Frustrated, Blitzwing was prepared to enforce the unspoken rule of being *polite* in other people’s personal spaces, but before he could label him a lousy guest and usher him out, Bumblebee bowed his helm, little servos clutching tight over his chest. Looking even smaller somehow.

A frown pulling the corner of his lips down.

Blitzwing wasn’t sure what was coming, only that he felt immensely responsible for making the bug look so tiny like that.

“Your wing still hurts, huh?” It wasn’t really a question, and Blitzwing hated that he’d been exposed again, and so easily. Bumblebee was either more in tune to him than he’d realized, or his other war type companions had just gone so long ignoring whenever their comrades were biting back grimaces and struggling to ex-vent through pain.

Or he was being an obvious slaghead with his berth on full display for Bee to see, and he never should have let him in.

“You want me to go get Ratchet?”

“Did jou vant me to get Ratchet when jou dented your helm jumping into a ravine?”

“That’s not the same- this is serious, Blitz.”

“Jour *helm* isn’t *serious*?”

Bumblebee tilted his chin up to meet the bigger mech’s gaze, looking surprisingly less like his bubbly self and more sober than Blitzwing’d seen him in a long time. And all on his account...

First Ratchet, then Sari, then Optimus. Now Bumblebee was expressing some kind of concern for him. So odd...

“I won’t sell you out- Ratchet will figure it out on his own, you know....” Bumblebee huffed. Trying to buy time to gather his courage once more.

“But I... y’know. I could polish the welding. I mean, you totally can’t tell it’s there, you war frames heal fast as frag. But, like... I could... make it better? Somehow?”

Oh.

This was *different* than how the other ones had worried. This was different...

How hadn’t he noticed? And for how long?

The thought of Bumblebee interested in him... this was just...

His wings flickered of their own accord- truly embarrassing- and he was thankful the minibot wouldn’t understand what that meant as a grounder.

“Ah, um, vell....” Blitzwing was ashamed to say he was seriously considering it.

“Zere’s no need. It’ll be good as new soon enough.”

Bumblebee didn’t seem discouraged by this. Maybe he did know what a set of engaging wing struts meant. Primus, he hoped not.

“That’s cool, totally cool.... I could just... just... knead your hinges instead.” He shrugged like *that* wasn’t one of the most intimate suggestions Blitzwing’d ever had a friend make.

“No pressure, just, um. If you want.”

Yeah, he did. Which is exactly why it couldn’t happen. What would Megatron and Optimus say? Was this mutiny? Enemy sympathizing? What were they supposed to be faction wise, again? There were still factions, definitely... but they were all just taking a break. Or...?

Bumblebee was possessed by some spirit from the well of sparks that wasn’t his own, telling him to act as foolish and recklessly as he wanted with a war class giant, multiple scales bigger than him and equally as aggressive, by pushing him to sit on the berth.

Blitzwing was possessed, too, for letting him move him without hesitance. Completely susceptible to his advances even, as Bumblebee couldn’t have pushed him an inch anywhere without his compliance.

How unbecoming.

How disgraceful.

How-

Bumblebee climbed up after him faster than Blitzwing could process in this state and slid his servos right against his injured wing at its hinge. Having zero understanding of the sensitive piece, beyond knowing that it was just that, or that cleaning the hinge was more beneficial to release pressure than physically stimulating it, Bumblebee’s digits running over the smooth metal was surprisingly, absolutely *divine*.

Blitzwing’d only ever been touched there for assemblings or reformations. Frag, those little yellow fingers wedging into otherwise unreachable places while Blitzwing wrapped his wings around towards his front was the stuff of fantasies. Ones he’d never entertained personally, but now that he knew what it was like, oh Primus.

Warm palms pushed with the grain of the hinge’s rollers. Working heat into his aching joints there that essentially melted Blitzwing to his core.

This served no purpose, other than as Bumblebee’s gentle attempt to ease his comrade’s suffering. Blitzwing couldn’t say it was too ineffective in that regard, though, considering he was near mewling at this point. When had that happened?

“This ok still?”

Blitzwing answered his utterly ridiculous question by turning face down to stretch out over the berth. Bee scurrying out of his way, though a hand refused to release its grip on his hinge, as they repositioned themselves. Blitzwing didn’t even register the slight weight straddling the low of his back until he was drifting in and out of recharge and forced every so often to assess his environment and determine the risk of stasis.

Each time he immediately concluded he was free of gunfire and cold wind and somewhere perfectly safe, ideal even- scratched berth or not. So long as he had Bumblebee with him, digging digits into lax wings, he’d be alright.

The likelihood that it’d be more than acceptable for him to ask for a repeat of this in the future, considering Bee’s enthusiasm, was comforting enough to see him through an entire recharge.

——- —-

Please stop me.

I got the allspark almanac for Christmas, and I cannot believe Blitzwing’s Cybertronian mode has a trampstamp.

I’m the worst kind of transformers fanboy for removing important pieces of anatomy just to thirst over Blitzwing’s shoulders.

This is just Bumblebee being thirsty for Blitzwing and getting lots of reciprocation for it.

✨Enjoy✨

—————————-

“Hey, Blitzbrain!”

“Hello, pissant.” Blitzwing would normally leave their interaction there, with much to be desired, but Bumblebee was acting ....strangely.

The yellow bot was shaking just so, a literal ball of nerves, and trying to mask it behind a smug little grin and a finger gun. All giant red flags.

When the bug continued to linger and stare ominously at Blitzwing’s pedes, the other knew trouble was coming. Evasive maneuver protocols were then activated.

“If zere iz nothing elze, I vould like to spend my morning in peace.” Blitzwing said and strategically put another foot between them by flicking his wing out towards his side.

He’d become *very* wary of this yellow walking disaster after the ‘glitterbomb incident’.

Bumblebee looked unbothered by his clear discomfort- Too concerned with his own.

“Yeah? Well, that s-sounds boring.”

“Vell, I don’t vant any help spicing it up. Begone with jou.”

Bumblebee began to laugh this nervous thing that had Blitzwing worried he was already in the perfect position for some kind of brutal act on his life -as in more glitter in unspeakable places.

“Is zere somezing I can help jou vith? So zat I may get *rid* of jou sooner?”

“Heh, uh, heh-heh... It’s funny you should ask that.”

Oh, Primus.

“I- see, I um. I had this, this .... slag. I had this d-dare and-“ Bumblebee stopped abruptly. Looking at his own hands gesturing uselessly, probably becoming self aware of his own secret sins and the real horror he was capable of. Blitzwing could dream, anyway.

He could feel his impending doom approaching. Unfortunately, a part of him would always delight in such.

*Whirr*

“Ooh, a dare! Vut kind of dare? Do jou have to lick someone’s rear axel? Or jump in a freezing lake vithout jour armor?”

No, no, that wasn’t right. Clearly it had something to do with *him* or else Bee wouldn’t be pestering him.

*Whirr*

“If jou zink jou’re going to prank me and make me look like an idiot, jou will be in the Medbay for a reformation before noon!”

Bee surprisingly offered no jab about Blitzwing looking like an idiot all on his own. He just stood there like a silly little minibot with pink cheeks. Looking increasingly more like he was losing his nerve. A desperate Bee was a sporadic one, and that meant double the danger.

Blitzwing folded his servos protectively over his chassis.

“Vell, vut iz zis dare, then? Out vith it!”

As Blitzwing shouted with considerably less heat than normal, used to his antics, Bumblebee stared distractedly at that hypnotizing tooth gap -an unbecoming habit of his- until Blitzwing was balling his fist up, preparing to ‘punch’ those pretty blue optics out and end this hot mess.

Seeing his fist raise in warning and that strong servo flex, Bumblebee was brought out of his trance and was filled with a sudden burst of confidence -if you could call it that.

He shouted back with far too much chest and cherry red cheekplates,

“I’m supposed to feel up your muscles!”

Blitzwing’s face spun back to blue and then paled. He gaped down at the little yellow fool with half a processor to lift his monocular and judge the sincerity of this ridiculous request with his own two optics.

There was a terrible, mortifying silence that followed, and Bumblebee was eventually forced to look for the nearest escape route, optics darting everywhere but at the triple changer. Tucking into himself and shrinking back a few steps.

“Oh, really?” Blitzwing asked with the sort of dryness that could evaporate water.

“And who dared jou to do zis?”

Bumblebee looked rather ashamed all at once.

“Vas it Sari?”

Bumblebee shook his head ‘no’ and shrugged.

Hmm...

“Vell it wasn’t ze ninja bot or Prime.”

And it wasn’t Lugnut or Ratchet.

It wasn’t Bulkhead who, despite being friends with Bumblebee in the first place, had infinitely better sense than that.

This whole thing was painfully suspicious, pushing Blitzwing into high alert and urging him to keep a cautious distance between himself and the yellow menace.

That was *until* he weighed the somewhat improbable likelihood of his final option.

“....Vas it jou?”

Was it Bumblebee who’d stupidly, insanely, embarrassingly given himself this dare?

Lord of Tarn, that would make all too much sense.

Bumblebee did run then, casting a “Oh, sorry! I- I -Gotta go!” over his shoulder before turning into alt mode and booking it out of Blitzwing’s sight faster than every time he’d launched a missile his way combined.

To his credit, Blitzwing was rather perceptive, and he was quite good at picking out red flags.

That’d been more than plenty.

——— —————

“Somezing ze matter, bug?”

Bumblebee nearly jumped out of his protoform. Having had his hiding place behind the Autobot base discovered by a towering force of fire power and raw, crushing strength was enough to send him into spark attest. If only because he’d done a wonderful job of making things unbearably uncomfortable between them in advance. And after Blitzwing was gearing up to punch his lights out, too.... Bumblebee needed to have Ratchet install that processor to mouth filter he’d always talked about installing sooner than later. Maybe a program on self-preservation, too.

He shot to his pedes and hoped the other hadn’t been there long enough to decide the image of him sat on the gravel with his helm in his hands was a more pathetic sight than a wet turbo-kitten. Bumblebee made a mess of things as frequently as possible, but he still had a cool guy reputation to uphold.

Which Blitzwing effectively shattered in seconds.

“Jou drove off in such a hurry, and right vhen it was just getting good. Vhat exactly vas so important about zis?” He gestured to Bee cramming himself into a little corner with his knees tucked close to his chest.

Honestly, anything was more important than flushing his chances with this mech so far down the drain that-

Wait, what?

Bumblebee felt a hitch in his sparkbeat.

“‘Good’ as in interesting? O-or ‘good’ as in... as in you were just about to smash me into pieces and that’d be real fun for you and stuff?”

Bumblebee was afraid to ask, but if there was *any* chance it could be the former, well...

Blitzwing looked far from doing anything so natural to a mech who was once in an enemy faction when he suddenly smiled at him. The first time Bumblebee had ever seen *that* look on Icy’s face, *ever*.

Was he still hallucinating from that direct punch he’d taken from Lugnut months ago?

“I meant ‘good’ as in zis-“ Blitzwing reached down and, in broad daylight for anyone exploring the back of the warehouse to see, took Bumblebee’s servos in his own, pulling him to his stabalizers, and placing his hands over his abdominal plates.

Over plates secured with sheets of extra ‘padding’. Layers of reinforced metal that’d survived onslaughts of gunfire and physical abuse. Plates that slid together when Blitzwing tensed up for a punch.

Bumblebee became a thoughtless vessel for his hands, fumbling to take it all in at once -stroking and groping- and didn’t stop for anything once they’d started.

He couldn’t reach much higher than a single strip along Blitzwing’s lower belly, but that proved more than enough to enamor him completely and leave Bumblebee feeling satisfied in his noble quest to get a feel of that all powerful living metal.

“Dude, B-Blitz....” Bumblebee whispered hoarsely.

And truly Blitzwing had no idea how long *this* had been a thing of fascination for the little one -how long he’d wanted to put his servos on him like this. But he could easily imagine himself agreeing to more of the same treatment in the future. To be felt up and appraised for something as basic and mundane, in his opinion, as his physical strength. Something he’d been naturally gifted as a war build.

He got the devilish idea to tense his frame and strike a pose, flexing both biceps up for Bumblebee to ogle at. The little bug bot left absolutely mesmerized.

“Uh, uhh, this um... is...”

“To jour liking?” Blitzwing taunted. Feeling powerful enough to take on Megatron and live while he had his little bot’s hands upon him, singing his worship.

Bumblebee snapped his jaw shut and nodded vigorously.

Blitzwing’s ego soared to insufferable heights.

“Ja? Vant to feel ze other side?”

Bumblebee’s optics blew wide, staring up at him with such wonder and awe they easily overlooked the fascinated terror on Sari’s little face as she slowly backed away from whatever she’d just walked in on and back around the corner of the warehouse.

Blitzwing relaxed and let his plates loosen, flipping around with hands folded patiently at his front while Bumblebee mapped out the places around his backstrut that stood proud and sturdy.

Hands never straying from their pursuit to admire every inch of brawn available to touch.

—————- ——- -

It’d been worth it to feel up that magnificent example of masculinity and carnage, something he’d longed to do since he’d seen Blitzwing throw a semi Prime’s size at Optimus like a frisbee, to have to suffer -SUFFER- the agony of the aftermath.

Sari had seen way too much, apparently, and was happy to leave their other teammates in shambles, gasping to in-vent and articulate anything more than ruthless jabs at Bumblebee’s little rendezvous.

It was painful, especially knowing Blitzwing was probably receiving a pat on the back for his part in this instead of mocking. But it wouldn’t be nearly enough to keep his grabby little palms off that fine piece of mech anytime soon.

Let Ratchet howl and Optimus snicker into his hands. Worse case, he could ask his new boyfriend to beat them up.

—— ——-

Feed me to the slime monster.

The babies kiss and kiss and kiss. I cannot stop them.

Ceasefire Au Part 3

Bee thinks Blitzwing gets crushed under some rubble. Now complete with embarrassing scribble✨

Prepare yourselves for some major Blitzbee fluff. Hooooo boy, does it get gay.

💕Warnings in the tags (but no actual serious content warnings I don’t think, so I don’t suppose there are any triggers worth checking them for)

(But just in case)

————————

Blitzwing flinched awake at the clatter of tumbling concrete across his wingstruts. His optics opened to total dark, surrounding him in every direction. It took all of a klik for his system to reboot and stream the last 10 seconds of consciousness straight to his processor.

Bumblebee had been about to be crushed under a building, collapsing inward after Blitzwing’s crashing through it. Why the Bug insisted on fighting so close at his side when he’d warned him time and time again something like this could happen was infuriating.

Regardless, the triple changer had scrambled to his pedes, unable to recover from his rough landing quite yet, and could do little more than move to push the bot out of the way, or shield him entirely with his massive body. He was thankful he had enough processing power in that disorienting moment to avoid risking the latter, in case something managed to pierce his plating, however unlikely an Earth made product could actually accomplish that.

He’d pushed him instead and took the brunt of the falling rubble on his wings and shoulders. Feeling himself pinned beneath for all of a blink before he was left unconscious.

Awake now and happy to see he was as impenetrable a force as any Cybertronian death machine, war tank should be, Blitzwing began to free himself. Shifting and twisting until the final layer of wreckage was a thin strip above his helm and a single push off and away from him with a single servo.

Freed, despite the debris cluttered about his mid thigh and pedes, Blitzwing stretched tall and extended his wings behind him to test their sensitivity.

Everything was in perfect condition. As it should be.

But then a familiar little gasp from somewhere below brought that inescapable dread back to the pit of his tanks.

Had Bumblebee been hit?! Had he failed to push him far enough away!?

He frantically looked down to find a yellow ball, curled up at the edge of the rubble, looking utterly exhausted at his own two servos.

“Bumblebee!” Blitzwing shouted far louder than necessary. He broke a pede free and swung his thigh clear out of the pile that’d formed around him. In one giant step, he swooped down to reach for his wounded companion and bring him in close. The knot forming in his chest near painful. 

Bee didn’t protest, clinging weakly to the large servo closing over his flimsy waist and hoisting him away from the mess below.

At optic level, Blitzwing looked his backstrut over first, already hailing Ratchet on his comm line, when that silly little horned helm snapped up with blazing blue optics and a furious little frown.

“Bumble-“

“You could have been killed, you idiot!”

Blitzwing stalled a moment, wondering what he’d missed in the last few moments before he’d been knocked out that’d make the other say such a thing, before he realized-

“....From... what?.... From a building?”

How about ‘no’?

The closest he’d ever come to offlining was with spark chamber filling with nitrogen from his own busted fuel lines, nearly drowning him from the inside out. Which Astortrain had gotten a kick out of later when Hook had announced he’d officially survived the ordeal.

A falling building, though? One only a few hundred feet taller than himself? He’d had a shuttle fall on him. Primus, he’d been strangled by a Six Changer and lived through that easily enough with the help of his naturally dense armor.

And here Bee was, looking dangerously close to watery optics, thinking he’d been dead.

Blitzwing’s spark did a summersault.

“Jou insult me.” He said then, as aloofness was infinitely more manageable than a proper kiss to the little sweetspark’s reddening cheeks.

“Good! You insulted me first by almost dying!”

“Zat vouldn’t have done more zen knock me unconscious for a few moments-“

“Dude, that’s not good! Your processor needs to be checked!”

“I’ve commed for Ratchet. Vunce he’s checked jou out, I’ll have him look at my processor.” He joked, as it was clearly nothing as simply as that. Even having the audacity to roll his optics and sigh.

Bumblebee was practically shaking. Absolutely outraged by his attitude of the whole thing- of taking an entire building on for him like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.

Bumblebee had stopped caring ages ago what kind of stress their new war frame companions could and couldn’t significantly more successfully handle than them.

“Check me!? You’re the one that got hurt, BlitzBrain!”

“Not hardly.” The other snorted, and turned his helm up and away. ‘Unbothered’.

He made to put the little minibot down on his stabilizers to prove to him then that he could walk around without processor lag when two little palms shot out, quick as lightening, and cupped him round the cheeks.

Blitzwing jolted, opening his mouth to throw more half sparked reassurances at the worrisome bot that this little incident had been no big deal when a warm mouth deftly closed over it.

He jerked, unconsciously rushing to arrange the little mech in his arms better, as the fear of dropping him from his now lagging processor was very real and very probable.

Bee held on, sinking his tiny little digits into sensitive seams as leverage to push himself up into the kiss. The kiss Blitzwing couldn’t have prepared himself for with a million astro-seconds of warning. Deep and urgent.

He made a noise he wasn’t proud of, especially when it reverberated loudly as Bumblebee chose that very moment to pull away.

“B-Bee, I- slag, I-I...”

Then those soft, courageous lips began to pepper themselves over every inch of exposed faceplate. Choosing stretches of soft dermamesh in every direction to adorn with his affections, no particular pattern to his fevered kisses leaving several spots kissed twice.

Blitzwing’s wingstruts fanned themselves in quick short bursts. An instinctual effort to relief their tension from the plating in his back and shoulders from where he’d gone stiff against the assault of kisses. Trying to redirect any undue pressure from his delicate hinges back there.

It still looked as utterly ridiculous as any thousand foot war machine, flickering his wings like a giant dragonfly would. Only the light catching on the metal brought a flash across their glimmering surface in the most alluring way to any wandering, welcoming optics -and served as a dangerous warning to any interested parties to back off.

This was his catch wrapped up in his servos, kissing on him. So, back off or lose a limb.

His. His.

“Oh, Spark.” Bumblebee mumbled in absolute exhaustion against Blitzwing’s lower lip. Sounding completely defeated, helpless even.

“Blitz- baby, I thought you were a goner.”

Yesss. All his.

He forced himself to find his vocalizer long enough to ease the little bot so broken and tired, held close in his arms.

“I’m sturdier zan jour puny little frame, Bug. I can easily take on a building.”

“But your wing only just healed. Again!” Bee pulled his helm away, still clinging to his collar with both hands, and looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes Blitzwing had thought he’d only ever see on Sari.

“They must have hurt so bad!”

Blitzwing struggled not to kiss him stupid and happy again right there. Worrying about his safety, worrying about his wings- having bothered to learn more explicitly about their delicate nature enough to know they needed special treatment.

Having been the bot not so long ago to offer them such with a careful massage.

This little Autobot...

“Zhey feel much better now.” He murmured. A gentle rumble in his chest from his fluctuating engine made the words a bit more huskier sounding than calming. Bee didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“And I’m safe -zat’s all zat matters, hm?”

Bumblebee clearly disagreed, if the little pout and sad, glowing optics were anything to go by.

That he thought nuzzling up under Blitzwing’s chin and kissing about his jawline was the only satisfying solution for such was just fine with the triple changer. Even titling his helm this way and that for the substantially smaller bot to reach every bit of untouched faceplate he could.

Melting from spark to toe-pede in the fervent kisses along his sensor rich dermamesh.

“Ehem.” Somebot somewhere awkwardly reset their vocalizer, and Blitzwing and his doting little nurse were stopped frozen in place. Slowly turning to address the wide pairs of optics in varying stages of disbelief and resignation looking their way. Having stood there in a frigid horror to watch the show, apparently.

Megatron, having wrestled Optimus clear of fallen debris finally, was stood at the little bot’s side looking a hundred years late to recharge.

“Well, this complicates things.....” He drawled, causing Blitzwing to unconsciously flinch.

But the little firetruck looked significantly more distressed, seeming transfixed on the yellow minibot bundled up in the arms of thousands of tonnes of deadly war machine, waiting with silent terror as to whether his smallest teammate would be safely released back down or torn apart with a single servo. Unable to make sense of the scene before him just yet.

Blitzwing did put Bee down then, if only to keep the peace, and was rewarded with a more surprised and curious than concerned looking Optimus. Seemingly coming to his own realization then that Blitzwing might sooner tear out his own tcog than assault his naive, most vulnerable crew mate.

Two leaders of two separate factions looking surprisingly amenable to the current circumstances down. Now two giant mecha of muscle and stature  -their closest companions, in fact- to go.

Blitzwing nervously locked optics with Lugnut, who’d practically lost his jaw off its hinges in total awe of the sight. Of his cruel, indifferent, icy companion sinking into a puddle under the lavish heat of a delicate mouth around his colored cheekplates.

Slag....

Then the bomber plane began to speak in a hurried panic.

“Ah- uh- Per- Perhaps it does not complicate things so much, Glorious Leader!” He bellowed, stumbling over his words.

“You are aware of how impulsive we Decepticons can be in the heat of battle!”

Of how most all war frames were eager to make questionable... ‘recreational’ decisions after the thrill of fight had failed to leave their overtaxed systems. Wired by design to fulfill the urges of an adrenaline rush through whatever satisfying measures necessary. Sometimes with more fighting, sometimes with more ‘accommodating’ means of stimulation.

Optimus seemed to be aware, if his own flushing cheekpkates meant anything. And Blitzwing would love to know what that was about.

Blitzwing chose not to elaborate then how uneventful having a building topple him over had been as opposed to the actual, dangerous combat moments before it, and what that accurately, did in fact, do to his overcharged systems. The other war frames knew perfectly well that was the case already, and that Lugnut was trying to save face for him -sweet- in front of their abnormally vacant leader.

When silence followed uncomfortably loudly in Lugnut’s delirious place, Bulkhead simply sighed.

“...I guess I saw it coming....”

And that struck a nerve.

“You did not!” Bumblebee screeched this unholy thing, high and strained enough to burst even Blitzwing’s audials from all the way up there.

But that did mean they had two more bots willing to accept this forsaken union. In their own way....

“Well, I did.” Prowl snipped, coming up from behind the pair. They turned to see him, his visor cracked in places and his claws a bit dulled.

“You did not!” Bee shouted again, whipping a finger out and stomping after him when he slipped between the couple. Either more certain he could do more damage to him than Bulkhead, who was four times his size, or simply more spurred on by their endless bickering to risk another of Prowl’s crushing headlocks to ensure himself the proper respect.

“You’ve been staring after him anytime he leaves the room for the last Quartex.”

“I- Fr- B- I- I do not! Prowl, you tree hugging-“

Blitzwing took that opportunity to look back towards their gathering audience once more -not the least bit surprised Ratchet had excused himself entirely after Megatron had said his piece- to reassess his leaders.

The little Prime was watching with hooded optics, seemingly unbothered by this startlingly new revelation any longer, and observing his teammates rush at each other’s throats, as causally as if it were any other day back at base.

Megatron, to Blitzwing’s momentary confusion, was more focused on discreetly scanning the little mech below for any excess damage.

He decided not to look into why that was, as deniability would make it far easier to ignore what had so evidently been possessing them all as of late when it came to these rambunctious little civil frames.

It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one so affected by a cute little mech with big, bright eyes, though.

———————-

They kind of gettin’ official now 😭 I mean the mouth kissing is one thing, but coupled with the special wing treatment last time... There’s no denying in Blitzwing’s overclocked processor that these two are getting serious.

You know what isn’t serious? Whatever threat I previously, vaguely imagined for this AU to exist. Thank God I never established what that was. That’d be too much writing.

Also I made this like hours after posting>>>

Just make him take it Bee boy

Icy Blitzwing snorts when he laughs.

But Bee’s the only one who can make that Blitz laugh, so he gets to keep it all to himself

During medical exams to determine the sparkling’s health, Ratchet will have Bumblebee sit comfortably and help unlock his chassis and his layers of armor until he pushes a side a clear path to his proto-mesh.

With a sparkling inside -one carrying half the coding of a war frame’s- the mesh is stretched thin. So thin, that you can see the little bouncy thing within, like looking through frosted glass.

During these vital studies, Blitzwing takes it upon himself to play peekaboo with their sparkling and stir the little ball with wings into a flurry.

Bee feels like he swallowed a thousand butterflies when their little one gets going like that, but he endeavors to allow Blitzwing an early start at being a pain in the aft sire.

So he sits through it, pretending to be angry, with this little sparkling in his belly just spinning and zooming away when Sire’s smiling face pokes out from behind his hands.

Buzzy bees in their bellies

A demon possessed me to use crayons

Hey there! Hope you found this alright!

I actually went on a rant on here once about how I fell into Blitzbee when I got into TFA a year ago, but then I decided ship type memes might explain it better than by delusional talking.

so just keep this in mind for the story I’m writing 😭😭

Today is my birthday, so I made myself exactly whatever I wanted. (I’m sure we aren’t surprised it turned out like this)

KISS KISS KISS KISS KISS

The triple changers giving Blitzwing shit for courting a minibot.

———————-

*Blitzwing, Octane, Astortrain, just walking*

Astrotrain *throws his arms out in a panic*: Wait, everyone! Stop! We almost stepped on Blitzwing’s boybot- Oh wait... that’s just a piece of fuzz.

Octane: OHHHHH!! OHHHH! OH FUCK! OOHH!

Astrotrain: Yeah, you like that? ,:) hehehe

Blitzwing: ....Listen

————————

*Everyone just chilling out*

Bumblebee *walks into the room to see Blitz and steal a kiss before shift starts*

Octane: hi Bee :)

Astrotrain: ‘sup bug

Octane: good to see a pretty face around here for once :))))

Astrotrain: wish you could stay longer :(

*After Bumblebee leaves*

Astrotrain: Holy slag, he’s the size of an oil can!

Octane: He’s as big as a scooter pedometer! 

Astrotrain: How do you fit your-?

Blitzwing: Jou are all just jealous zhat I am getting some trunk, and jou are untapped newsparks :/

————-

That being said, they are fiercely protective of Bumblebee for being Blitz’s boy, and also because they come to love the little gremlin.

Nobody pisses off Blitzwing like Bee does, so they have mad respect for him.

BLITZTWING IM HIGH HEELS!!BLITZTWING IM HIGH HEELS!!BLITZTWING IM HIGH HEELS!! hE LOOKS SO GOOFY I LOVE HIM IN YOUR STYLE 🥹🥹🥹🥹💪

For anon and @toxxicpill for your nice words last night about my Blitzwing heel doodles ADAGSFZGV

Bonuses under cut for maximum thirst / boys being idiots

They like to tease each other, but underneath all that tough guy slag….

They’re utterly infatuated