May 17, 2027.

Autobot Base. Earth.

Your armor looked different today than usual.

The main color was a deep pearlescent white, with soft silver accents that reflected the light as if you were made of pure energy light. Along the edges of the armor were thin blue energy lines, pulsing in time with your spark.

On top of that, a dress specially crafted for you, made of flexible energy fabric, light and flowing, as if woven from light and thin holographic layers. It matched the contours of the armor but added a sense of solemnity and tenderness.

Your optics glowed softly. You didn't look like a warrior. You are a bride today. You are beloved.

The hall was decorated with Prime symbols, the soft glow of energy crystals, and Autobot insignia.

Optimus Prime spoke words—calm, profound, and respectful:

"Today, we unite more than just two Autobots. We unite two sparks who have chosen each other in war, in pain, in hope... and in love."

Ratchet stood nearby, reserved but with a warm gaze. Arcee smiled faintly. Bumblebee beamed as if this were his own personal celebration. Bulkhead cleared his throat sheepishly, but his gaze was sincere. Smokescreen was unusually quiet—out of respect for the moment.

And next to you—Ultra Magnus. Direct. Strong.

But today—there was no commander in his gaze. Only one who sees you as his home.

When the words were spoken... He took a step closer.

Slowly. Confidently. His palms rested on your servos—firmly but gently. He leaned in, and your foreheads touched for a moment.

And then—a kiss.

Not a show. Not for the public. But yours.

Deep. Quiet. Real. Containing everything: war, fear, hope, choice—and love.

The room erupted in applause. But all you heard was his breathing next to you.

After the wedding.

Later.

When the hall was empty. When the music had died down. When only you remained.

Magnus walked silently toward you... And lifted you into his arms.

Easy. Confident. As if you weighed less to him than his own heart.

"You're mine," — he said quietly. Not like an order. Like the truth.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head rested against his shoulder. You felt his spark pulsing calmly and powerfully beneath his armor. You smiled slightly, resting your helmet against his chest plate as he walked and carried you towards your room.

The door opened with a soft hiss.

He entered. Slowly. Every step deliberate.

The door closed behind you. Quietly. As if the whole world had left behind.

The room was bathed in soft light. Warm. Calm. Without war.

He lowered you to your feet... But he didn't let go.

His palms were still on you. Firmly. Securely. You felt it not as passion, but as promise.

He leaned closer. His forehead touched yours.

"Now... we have time," — he said quietly.

And that voice held everything:

Protection. Closeness. The desire to be close. Always.

He led you to the bed—slowly, confidently, not letting go for a second.

He gently sat you down on the bed. He leaned over you, his huge figure blocking your entire view if you wanted to look behind him. His right servo gently took your wrist in his palm, smaller but more tender; his left servo touched your cheekbone, gently pulling you closer to him.

Ultra Magnus's lips touched yours softly, but firmly and carefully, kissing you slowly, leisurely.