꒰ঌ Ultra Magnus — TFP ໒꒱

The night had been endless. Insomnia and accumulated stress had prevented you from getting any restful sleep, leaving your systems exhausted and a bitter heaviness in your body from the first second of dawn. Reaching over the reloading bunk, you found only cold sheets; Ultra Magnus was no longer beside you. Sighing in frustration, you got up and shuffled down the bunker to the kitchen, hoping to find something to soothe your discomfort.

As you crossed the threshold, you stopped dead in your tracks, confronted by an unreal scene. With his back to you, Ultra Magnus's imposing, massive blue and red body dominated the space, but with one completely unexpected detail: he wore a pastel yellow apron carefully tied around his enormous waist. He was completely focused, his brow rigidly furrowed in his usual military grimace of absolute seriousness, handling the utensils with almost comical precision as he prepared breakfast, doing his utmost to avoid breaking anything with his clunky servos. The echo of your tired footsteps interrupted his rigorous task. Turning and noticing your dimmed optics and obvious signs of fatigue, the facade of a disciplined sergeant instantly crumbled. Setting the spatula aside, he walked purposefully toward you and wrapped his huge, protective arms around your waist, pressing you against the warm plates of his chest in a comforting embrace that seemed to melt away all your stress.

His blue eyes shone with infinite devotion and tenderness, and an extremely sweet smile, unrelated to his military rank, appeared on his face.

"You couldn't rest, my spark..." he murmured in a baritone voice, incredibly soft, placing a tender kiss on your lips as he stroked your back. "Please, go back upstairs and lie down a little longer. Your Commander will take care of everything down here and bring you breakfast in bed in a few moments. Let me look after you, my love."