Optimus Prime - TFP

There have always been periods on Cybertron that Cybertronians preferred not to speak of. These cycles rarely affected the Primes—their spark was considered too stable, too disciplined. But this era was different.

In recent weeks, Optimus had become... different. Without realizing it—and it was all too noticeable to you. He became more anxious, tense, hypersensitive. His sensors reacted to your every movement. Sometimes you caught his gaze—long, searching, almost predatory... but then it would immediately give way to stern reserve. He thought he was hiding something. But he wasn't. Today had truly become strange.

You were standing in the hangar, adjusting a tool mounted on the wall, when a quiet, low, almost vibrating sound came from behind you. Like a deep, humming sound, echoing across the floor. Optimus was standing in the doorway. But he looked... different.

Prime stood upright, but his chest plate was raised slightly higher than usual—his spark was clearly working harder than it should have. Rare but frequent pulses of blue energy ran along the contours of his armor. His optics were brighter than usual, almost glowing. He looked at you with utmost seriousness and—surprisingly—seemed to be struggling with himself.

"Expensive…" His voice was quieter than usual. Much quieter.

"I need to talk to you."

He took a step. Your body responded to the vibrations of his footsteps in a way it never had before: they seemed to reverberate through your chest. Optimus stopped at arm's length. He didn't come any closer—it was clear he was keeping to strict guidelines.

"The Cybertronians… are entering mating season," he said, as if confessing to a crime.

"It's a cycle that can't be suppressed. The body... the spark... the instincts..."

He looked away slightly, "...they start to behave differently."

He looked at you again. This time, openly, sincerely, dangerously honest.

"I'm holding up. For now. But my condition... is getting worse. Especially..."

He took a breath, "when you're around."