Draft A Possible Optimus X Megatron Story

Another possible OpMeg Story (basically canon anyway)

Picture from @charolyn, in her videos she posts possible ideas.

I definitely want to write something like this.

To be edited.

Megatron - Vogue

I got bored while editing a poster. Does anyone know good advice to draw?

How do you draw eyes, and arms, and legs, and a torso, etc?

Is there like a beginners tutorial because I would love that idea.

this has inspired me to begin writing a draft of a new fic, thank you petal covered cat

Beneath the blush of petals fair, A kitten dreams without a care. Soft breaths rise, the world grows still, Wrapped in pink, a gentle thrill.

Your peace, a muse without a sound— A nap, a pose, the world unwound. Thank you, little petaled fairy of adorable light, For gifting me this bloom of inspiration to write.

Cover Options for Work In Progress

My friend B is helping by making a cover for my new fanfic, I haven't posted / completed chapter one yet tho 😅. But I can't figure out which one is a better version.

Idk, if anyone responds I would like to hear ur opinions.

parts of the images got cut off, idk why, but if you click on it you can see the whole picture

Amorvëael Pax A.U. Moments - Room Colors

These events occur a few months after Amorvëael's conception. A moment to the past before their mischievous sparkling was born. With a short slightly spicy scene in the draft.

---

“I’m telling you right now, Optimus—if you paint that wall beige, I will riot.”

“It’s champagne gold,” Optimus said diplomatically, holding up the swatch. “It’s calming. Neutral. Sophisticated.”

Megatron sneered at it. “It’s boring. Our child will exit as a protoform and assume he’s been sentenced to an eternal tax office.”

Optimus looked faintly offended. “Color psychology studies suggest softer tones promote—”

“I led a rebellion, Optimus,” Megatron snapped, yanking open a box of vivid paint samples. “I’m not raising a sparkling in a nursery that looks like the inside of Ultra Magnus’ dream filing cabinet.”

Optimus opened his mouth to retort—only to pause.

Because Megatron had stopped mid-rant.

“…Megatron?” he asked warily.

The warlord stood still for a second. His optics flickered. His vents hitched.

Then he whined.

Optimus immediately tensed. “Are you alright? Is something—?”

“I need it,” Megatron said lowly, voice rough.

“…Need what?”

“You know what,” Megatron muttered, optics glowing.

His hands reached out, slow and twitchy. One went to Optimus’ waist. The other pawed at the edge of his armor plating.

Optimus blinked. “Megatron, we were discussing paint.”

Megatron leaned in and growled, deep and rumbling. “I’ll paint the walls with whatever you want, just spike me first.”

Optimus short-circuited.

“…Are you serious—?”

“I can smell you,” Megatron hissed, dragging his claws lightly over Optimus’ armor, sparking tingles down his spinal strut. “You smell good.”

Optimus took one step back. Megatron followed.

“You said you didn’t want to frag while we were working,” Optimus said, holding a swatch up like a useless shield.

“That was before I started leaking just from arguing with you.” Megatron’s voice was a low growl now. “You’re here. I’m empty. My valve is pulsing. Do the math.”

Optimus flushed. “I am trying to focus on the nursery.”

“And I’m trying not to drag you onto the paint tarp and ride your spike until I’m too full to move.”

Optimus dropped the swatch.

Megatron pounced.

The two of them slammed into the far wall of the half-decorated nursery, knocking over a box of plush sparkling safe toys. A soft rattle hit Optimus in the helm and bounced away unnoticed.

He rolled his hips forward, valve already dripping and hot, grinding against Optimus’ spike housing with desperate need. “Get it out,” he snarled. “I need it—need to feel full—”

Optimus groaned as his panels snapped open.

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered.

“I’m carrying.” Megatron’s hands clenched his shoulders. “You did this. Fix it.”

Optimus didn’t need to be told twice.

Within seconds, he had Megatron pinned against the wall, spike sliding into that drenched, needy valve with a sharp, wet thrust.

Megatron moaned, head thrown back, optics fluttering. His valve calipers clenched around Optimus' spike, greedily, shuddering like it knew exactly what it wanted—and wanted every drop.

Optimus’ grip tightened on Megatron’s hips. “Is this how you win arguments now?” he hissed through his vents.

Megatron wrapped a leg around his waist and growled, “If it gets me filled, I’ll argue about every miniscule detail in this room.”

The nursery wall creaked behind them. Plush toys were scattered across the floor.

The champagne gold swatch was crumpled under Megatron’s foot.

No one cared.

---

Optimus stood at the door of the freshly painted nursery, arms crossed over his chassis as he admired their compromise.

It wasn’t perfect—but then, nothing ever was when it came to Megatron and his demands. Yet, as he gazed at the soft blue walls with the serene, subtle cloud designs, Optimus felt something like peace settle into his spark.

“Light blue, huh?” Megatron said, lounging on the floor in front of him, looking thoroughly sated. His optics flickered lazily as he traced idle circles on Optimus’ leg, the warlord's venting quiet but content.

Optimus smiles warmly. “Do you want me to finish the rest?”

Megatron’s mouth curled upward in a smirk. “I’ve been through enough wall colors today. Now, I’m enjoying the rewards of your compromise.” He yawned dramatically, stretching out like a contented predator in the sun. “You can finish the small paintings while I relax.”

Optimus shook his helm but gave in anyway, as he always did.

The walls were light blue, yes, but what made this room different were the tiny paintings Optimus had agreed to add as a compromise to Megatron’s “epic battle scenes” suggestion.

At the far side of the room, soft clouds swirled across the wall, with delicate constellations of tiny stars. But on the wall opposite, Optimus had painted a collage of himself and Megatron—not quite as dramatic as the "Bladewrath" suggestion, but still enough to make the warlord’s optics gleam with satisfaction. It was peaceful. And, of course, a tiny sparkling in the middle, holding both mechs hands, between them.

Megatron’s optics softened as he stared at the delicate details. He’d never admit it aloud, but there was a spark of something warm blooming inside him as he took in the image.

“Well,” Megatron said, his voice low and teasing as he slid into Optimus’ lap. “It’s... acceptable.”

Optimus chuckled softly, resting his hands around Megatron’s waist. “I’ll take ‘acceptable’ as a win. Especially after everything we’ve been through today.”

“Mm.” Megatron leaned back against Optimus’ chest, his servo rubbing the warmth of his abdomen, which now held their sparkling. “Just don’t ask me to paint anything. I’m done with decorating.”

Optimus smiled, his frame enveloping Megatron’s. “You know,” Optimus said, brushing his lips against the nape of Megatron’s neck, “I think we make a pretty good team when we compromise.”

Megatron’s optics glinted with quiet affection, but he didn’t look up. “Sure. But next time,” he said, voice filled with lazy mischief, “let’s just get a huge statue of me and call it ‘done.’”

Optimus laughed softly. “I’ll keep that in mind. But first…” He rubbed a hand along Megatron’s lower back, smirking. “How about a celebratory energon shake? You look like you could use something cold.”

Megatron shuddered slightly at the thought, his morning sickness protesting, but relaxed further into Optimus’ arms. “I think I’ll pass. But don’t let that stop you from finishing your other tasks. You’ve still got one more mural left.”

Optimus sighed dramatically, his optics softening. “Fine. One more mural. And then I’m taking you to bed. No more interruptions. That is a compromise.”

Megatron smirked knowingly, rubbing against Optimus with a satisfied hum. “That’s the only kind of ‘compromise’ I need right now.”

As the two settled into the warmth of the freshly painted nursery, with soft blue walls surrounding them, they were content in their love.

Frequency of Two Sparks

I imagine if soundwave made a song it would somewhat sound like this.

I realized far too late that I forgot to title the song name here, so I labeled the post title with the name.

Idk why but I couldn't attach the video, so here's the link instead. (Edit: issue fixed)

Draft: Respite and Quiet Embraces

The Nemesis was quiet. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Outside, the storm raged on—wind howling, thunder cracking, lightning flashing in bursts that lit the sky and rattled the hull of the warship. But inside the commander’s quarters, Megatron lay wide awake, staring at the ceiling as if it had all the answers.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

He shifted restlessly in the berth, growling low in his throat. The storm should’ve been easy to ignore—he’d survived worse. But tonight, something gnawed at him from within, a quiet ache that the howling winds only seemed to sharpen. The berth felt too cold. The dark too empty.

He turned his head, optics flickering toward the space beside him. It had only recently begun to feel like it belonged to someone else—someone warm, steady, infuriatingly calm.

But that someone wasn’t here.

Clenching the sheets in frustration, Megatron tried again to relax. The sounds of the ship creaking beneath the storm only made it worse. He wasn’t used to needing things. Needing anyone.

But tonight, he felt it.

Loneliness. The kind that crept in when the armor cracked, when silence stretched too long. The kind that made him ache for something he didn’t know how to ask for.

"Slag it," he muttered, reaching for his comm link. His hand hovered. Pride screamed at him to stop. But his spark—traitorous thing—pushed him forward.

He hit the call.

“Optimus,” he said gruffly as the transmission opened.

Optimus' voice crackled through the link, a touch of confusion clear in his tone. “Megatron, is something wrong?”

"Just… come here. Now," Megatron snapped, unable to mask the irritation in his voice. He stood from the berth, pacing impatiently. "I can’t sleep. This fragging storm… it’s keeping me up. I need—" He paused, the words catching in his throat, not quite able to say what he wanted to. “Just get here.”

Another beat of silence. “I’ll be there shortly,” Optimus replied. His calm voice soothed the edges of Megatron's frustration.

Megatron ended the call and paced, restless. He didn’t know why he’d done it. They were dating now—whatever that meant between two old soldiers with battle-worn sparks and too many regrets—but he still didn’t know how to ask for this. For help. For company. For warmth.

When Optimus finally stepped into the room, he looked exactly as Megatron expected—calm, composed, his optics softening when they landed on him. The Prime's optics softened as they landed on Megatron, who was standing stiffly in the middle of the room.

“Megatron, what’s going on?” Optimus asked gently. “Why did you call me here?”

Megatron grunted, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “I can’t sleep. The storm’s making my circuits short out." He paused. "You’re… comfortable. I thought it would help.”

Optimus blinked. “Comfortable?”

“I thought it would help,” Megatron snapped, audials burning. “Just get over here and shut up”, though the sharpness in his voice was undermined by the way he fidgeted nervously.

Optimus’s lips twitched with the faintest of smiles. He raised an optic ridge, clearly trying to suppress any hint of a smile at the grumpy tone in Megatron's voice. But he said nothing, and with surprising warmth, Optimus sat beside Megatron, reaching out to gently pull him down onto the berth.

The storm raged outside, but within the warmth of the room, everything seemed a little quieter. Optimus lay down beside him, wrapping his arms around the Decepticon in a secure, comforting hold.

The contact was simple—an arm around shoulders, a quiet presence beside him. But it grounded him instantly.

Megatron stiffened at first, not used to such gentleness, but the tension quickly melted from his frame as Optimus gently nuzzled against him, offering a reassuring comfort and Megatron exhaled slowly at the warmth.

“You can sleep now,” Optimus murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re safe.”

Megatron let out a quiet sigh, his optics flickering as the peaceful sensation of Optimus' arms wrapped around him began to sink in. The storm outside felt far less threatening now. There was warmth, and security, and for the first time that night… peace.

He stared at the wall for a long moment, his vents slowing as the storm faded to background noise. The silence between them wasn’t heavy anymore—it was steady, filled with something quiet and whole.

“I suppose…” Megatron muttered reluctantly, “this is better.”

“Better than what?” Optimus teased softly, his breath warm against Megatron’s audials.

“Better than being awake… and alone,” Megatron confessed, his voice quieter now, the words almost feeling foreign coming from him.

Optimus smiled faintly and gave a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling through his chassis. “Then sleep, Megatron. Rest. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

As Megatron relaxed into the embrace, the storm outside faded to the background, the only sound in the room the steady hum of their processors and the soft beat of their sparks. The weight of the day’s tension finally left him, and his systems slowly powered down, drifting off into the most peaceful recharge he’d had in ages.

Optimus, feeling the rise and fall of Megatron's frame as he finally relaxed, smiled softly to himself. They had come a long way from enemies on the battlefield.

But tonight, that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the quiet, the comfort, and the fact that for once, Megatron didn’t have to face the storm alone.

And so, they slept.

Together.

----

They've begun dating in this au however Megatron still struggles with asking for support from his new partner.

Some important information on online safety that should be shared.

Farewell online privacy

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