Draft: The Matrix Meddles

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.

A Poll on Possible Stories

Scroll below the poll and it will explain each numbered option in a sentence or so.

I’d be happy to hear more AU ideas if anyone wants to share ideas in the comments!

Note:

I will be posting about the winning au in the following blog.

Winning A.U. Blog Link - https://www.tumblr.com/oblivious-prime-opmeg-au?source=share

- A post-war peace treaty requires Optimus and Megatron to live together for one whole month as a symbolic show of unity.

- To solidify peace, a political marriage is proposed.

- They agree to live together for mutual benefits post war. (Both agree and claim it's for beneficial reasons such as being able to easily talk about serious faction matters quickly, conserves time, etc.. they really just both like each other.)

- A mishap in Shockwave’s lab flings Megatron into a possible future . Megatron accidentally time travels and sees a future where he's married to Optimus.

- Optimus pretends to flirt as a joke—Megatron thinks he’s serious.

- An artifact causes Optimus and Megatron to switch bodies for a week.

- Due to a glitch in Cybertronian bureaucracy, Optimus and Megatron are enrolled in mandatory bonding counseling. They go to prove they’re not together. They leave holding hands.

- Starscream, for reasons no one understands, wants them to date. Badly. Shenanigans ensue.

- The troops mistakenly believe Megatron and Optimus are together. They look so happy.

- During a Decepticon high council meeting, Starscream mocks Megatron for being single. In a fit of rage, Megatron blurts out that he does have a partner, a conjux—Optimus, and throws the table at the offending mech. Problem? They’re not even dating, let alone fragging married.

MegOp Stories

The winner of the last AU poll was an arranged marriage AU. Info about winning au. https://www.tumblr.com/oblivious-prime-opmeg-au/781317548414205952/note?source=share

Scroll below the poll and it will explain each numbered option in a sentence or so.

- A post-war peace treaty requires Optimus and Megatron to live together for one whole month as a symbolic show of unity. They agree to live together for mutual benefits post war. (Both agree and claim it's for beneficial reasons such as being able to easily talk about serious faction matters quickly, conserves time, etc.. they really just both like each other.)

- During a Decepticon high council meeting, Starscream mocks Megatron for being single. In a fit of rage, Megatron blurts out that he does have a partner, a conjux—Optimus, and throws the table at the offending mech. Problem? They’re not even dating, let alone fragging married.

They're both "reluctant Cybertronian royalty" and are forced into an arranged marriage to save their houses. Megatron plans to murder his way out. Optimus plans to nobly suffer through it. Neither expects to be absurdly thirsty for each other after the first five minutes.

- A mishap in Shockwave’s lab flings Megatron into a possible future. Megatron accidentally time travels and sees a future where he's married to Optimus.

After an accident involving a malfunctioning Space Bridge, Optimus and Megatron switch bodies. They’re horrible at pretending to be each other. Starscream immediately knows something’s wrong when "Megatron" smiles and says "please." Meanwhile, the Autobots grow suspicious when "Optimus" threatens to punt a High-Caste into the sun.

Somehow Optimus and Megatron get temporarily sparkling-ified. Now they're tiny, adorablr, and clinging to each other. The Autobots and Decepticons have to form a truce to babysit them while baby Optimus aggressively headbutts anyone who touches baby Megatron. Surprisingly Megatron is the epitome of sweetness while Optimus is a gremlin sparkling.

A sparkling from the future shows up ...and calls Megatron and Optimus their parents. They're horrified. Everyone else is thrilled. Ratchet and Soundwave name themselves honorary uncles. Shockwave wants to study the sparkling. Bumblebee sets up a "Baby Watch" committee.

Cybertron’s new peace agreement includes a dating app to encourage unity. Optimus and Megatron both sign up under fake names. They match instantly. They keep flirting online anonymously...while absolutely hating each other in real life. Until they agree to meet up.

Amorvëael Pax

I cannot draw, but I can do stick figures lol.

Amorvëael Pax

Pronounced: Ah-MOR-vee-EL P-axe

Amor (Latin): Love

Vëa (from Quenya, Tolkien Elvish): Life, being, essence

-ael / -el (Hebrew/angelic suffix): Of or belonging to, often implying divine or sacred

Pax - Peace / period of peace

Meaning/idea: “The life born of our love in a time of peace” or “Most treasured existence of our love in a time of peace.”

From time to time they affectionately call their sparkling beloved treasure for short.

Amorvëael has heterochromia, wings, and Optimus' helm.

No specific continuity is used for my A.U., definitely a mash up of whatever worlds I chose tho. I currently have no specific appearance in mind for Optimus and Megatron.

Megatron vs Roomba Part Two

I can't find part one.

---

The Roomba had returned.

Megatron stood in the middle of the living room, glaring down at the small cleaning bot with all the venom he could muster, as if it had personally insulted his ancestors. “You think you can return after I banished you?!”

The Roomba beeped innocently, as though it hadn’t even noticed the warlord’s glare.

Megatron’s optics narrowed, and he reached for his fusion cannon. “This time, you do not escape.”

Optimus leaned casually in the doorway, sipping from a mug labeled World’s #1 Peacekeeper (and Husband) with a relaxed, almost teasing grin. “You’re really going to obliterate a cleaning bot just because it tried to mop behind you?”

“It stalks me,” Megatron growled, stepping forward. “It knows too much.”

Optimus raised an eyebrow.

Megatron’s fists clenched at his sides. “It’s a spy—an agent of sabotage!”

The Roomba made a soft, innocent beeping noise, continuing its roundabout journey.

“Megatron, Soundwave's the one who programmed it to follow your movements,” Optimus said, his voice calm, as though explaining the facts to an impatient child.

“He would never—”

But before he could finish his sentence, Optimus strode forward, stepping quietly behind him. In an instant, he reached out and gave Megatron’s aft a playful squeeze.

Megatron let out a high-pitched, indignant yelp and lurched forward, nearly tripping over the Roomba in the process. “W-WHAT are you—!?”

Optimus’s hand lingered on his back, his voice low and soothing. “Distracting you,” he said calmly, giving Megatron a reassuring squeeze. “You were about to vaporize my cleaning budget.”

The fusion cannon sputtered in Megatron’s hand as he twisted around, trying to focus on Optimus and failing. “That’s... underhanded!”

Optimus flashed a wicked grin. “You didn’t complain last night when I used both hands.”

Megatron’s processor nearly short-circuited at the thought. His spark rate spiked, and his optics flickered. He was no longer sure which task he was supposed to be focusing on. "Y-You—"

But before Megatron could muster a proper response, Optimus slid his other hand down his aft, moving dangerously close to his thighs. The warlord froze, his entire frame seizing up as Optimus’s touch grew bolder.

“Optimus...” Megatron’s voice was barely a whisper, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could focus.

The Roomba, unfazed by the tension in the air, gently bumped into Megatron’s foot again.

Megatron, red-faced, took an unsteady step back, but Optimus followed him, trailing his servo up the side of his frame, teasingly inching toward the delicate spot that made Megatron’s processors buzz.

“You—ngh—slagger!” Megatron’s voice cracked slightly. His servo shook slightly around the fusion cannon, and for a brief moment, he forgot what he was even doing.

Optimus’s face softened into a teasing smile, his voice low. “But Megatron, don’t you want me to help you out with your… stress?”

Optimus leaned in closer, his lips nearly grazing Megatron’s audios. “You seem awfully tense. Surely, a little distraction wouldn’t hurt.” Optimus’s servo slid along the side of Megatron’s hip, gently moving down to grip his thigh. The warlord froze, his entire body locking up. Optimus smiled warmly, "Say the word dearest, any time and I'll stop.”

Megatron’s mind spun with conflicting thoughts: the Roomba, the cannon, the incredibly distracting servos moving to exactly the wrong or right places. "Focus, Megatron," he muttered under his breath, but it was impossible to concentrate with Optimus so close.

Optimus, noticing the warlord’s faltering composure, smirked. “Do you want me to grope you again while you threaten it? That seemed to work so well last time.”

Megatron’s audios twitched, his circuits sparking in protest as he tried—and failed—to hold it together. “Slagger!” he hissed, but it came out more like a pained whimper. The Roomba, sensing its moment, bumped against his foot again.

Megatron looked down at the little bot, his optics narrowed with fire. “This is your last warning,” he growled, but the moment was lost. He couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his faceplates as Optimus’s hand slid closer, brushing against his valve panel.

Optimus smirked, watching his teasing touches make Megatron visibly squirm. “I see you've resorted to threatening the cleaner now,” he purred. “But it seems like you’ve lost focus. How about I help you regain some of it?”

With a swift motion, Optimus slid his hands between Megatron’s legs, spreading his thighs apart just enough to get his attention. “There we go,” he murmured, his voice sultry. “Let’s see if we can make you feel a little better, hm?”

Megatron’s frame jolted, his faceplates a deep shade of red. “Y-you dare—”

“Oh, but I do dare, Megatron,” Optimus teased, his hands moving dangerously close to Megatron’s most vulnerable spots. “Let’s see how long you can keep your composure.”

Megatron tried to stand tall, but his legs felt weak as Optimus gently spread them further, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of Megatron’s plating. He could feel his own systems overheating with the growing pressure. “Optimus,” he panted, trying to resist, but the Decepticons own arousal was becoming undeniable.

“Shh,” Optimus whispered, his lips brushing the side of Megatron’s audios. “Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

Megatron growled low in his throat, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not—I am NOT relaxing!”

Optimus didn’t let up, though. He moved his hands in teasing, slow circles around Megatron’s inner thighs, inching ever closer to the warlord’s most sensitive points. His teasing touches were just enough to leave Megatron breathless, frustrated, and—whether he liked it or not—needy.

“You’re making this much more difficult than it needs to be,” Optimus hummed, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers continued to dance dangerously close to Megatron’s valve panel.

“Optimus, I swear,” Megatron warned, his optics flashing as he tried to retain some shred of dignity. “If you don’t, I will—”

“Don't what, Megatron?” Optimus leaned down, his lips brushing against Megatron’s neck. “Continue? Stop? Leave you alone?”

“I —!” Megatron growled, but his voice lacked conviction. His body was betraying him, and his voice came out as more of a desperate plea than an order.

The Roomba, ever the innocent observer, bumped into Megatron’s foot once more, adding to the ridiculousness of the situation.

With one final, teasing squeeze, Optimus stood up, leaving Megatron standing there, trembling with frustration and desire. “You should focus on your so called enemy, Megatron,” Optimus said, his voice laced with amusement. “Or, I’ll just keep distracting you.” He pressed a finger to Megatron's valve panel, eliciting a gasp. Then grinned, "Shall we continue in berth? Unless of course you want to stay here?"

Megatron, barely able to maintain any sort of dignity, growled, “You manipulative, infuriating—."

The Roomba, now completely undisturbed, beeped softly in victory.

But his voice cracked halfway through the threat, as Optimus’s thumb pressed in a slow, tantalizing circle right against his sealed valve panel. He hissed sharply through clenched denta, his knees nearly giving out. His free hand slammed against the wall beside him for balance, the other still pathetically gripping his useless cannon.

“I’ll have your badge revoked for this, Prime—”

Optimus tilted his head, oh-so-innocent. “For helping my Conjux unwind? You’re tense. Distracted. Aggressive.” He leaned in again, lips brushing the heated plating beneath Megatron’s jaw. “I’m just performing my spousal duties. Preventing another civil war."

Megatron’s vents stuttered, cycling rapidly. “By teasing me in front of a cleaning unit!?”

Optimus sighed, finally drawing his hands back—though not before ghosting his fingers over Megatron’s thighs one last time, dragging his touch down with deliberate slowness. “Fine, I’ll give you a moment alone to win your little war.”

He stepped back with a smirk, crossing his arms, mug still in hand. “Though I have to say… you were much more fun to tease when you were armed.”

Megatron glared at him with every ounce of dignity he had left, which wasn’t much considering the purple blooming across his faceplates and the slight tremble in his thighs. “When I finally destroy that thing, I will find retribution against you later.”

Optimus sipped his drink, unfazed and winked. “Why don't I have a taste of your aft instead?”

Megatron’s systems hiccuped.

His processor tried to register Optimus’s words—taste of your aft—and promptly gave up. Static crackled behind his optics as he froze, speechless for the first time in vorns. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as he glared at Optimus like the Prime had just declared war with a love poem.

“You—! You slag-slicked menace!” Megatron hissed, his voice cracking like old Energon lines. “That is not appropriate battle banter!”

Optimus only smirked deeper, the corners of his lips curling with smug satisfaction as he sipped from his mug again, voice slow and syrupy. “Oh, is it not? Forgive me—would you prefer me to be more specific? Such as what exactly I plan to do to your valve?”

Megatron’s cannon clanked to the floor.

He didn’t even notice it falling.

Instead, he lunged forward, servo wrapping around Optimus’s shoulder plating as he snarled low and furious. “You insufferable, undignified, irredeemable—”

“—attractive, charming, and deeply in love with you?” Optimus finished calmly, setting his mug down with maddening nonchalance.

Megatron's vocalizer gave a low, glitching pop. “That is not—”

But Optimus didn’t let him finish. His hands were suddenly there again—sliding around Megatron’s waist and down to his aft, gripping it boldly.

Megatron yelped, his entire frame jolting. “Stop touching me there!”

Optimus just hummed, leaning closer until their chassis brushed, frame heat humming in shared contact. “You don’t actually want me to stop.”

“I do,” Megatron lied, not very convincingly.

“Then push me away,” Optimus whispered against his audial. “Right now.”

Megatron’s servos twitched. One rested limply on Optimus’s chest, hovering, trembling.

He didn’t push.

He didn’t move.

Optimus’s mouth curved against his plating. “That’s what I thought.”

“You manipulative, spark-charming glitch,” Megatron rasped, his voice barely a growl.

“Your glitch,” Optimus said softly, voice dipped in heat and fondness. “Forever.”

A moment passed.

Then Megatron, cheeks still burning hotter than an overclocked cannon, snarled, “Fine. If you want my attention so badly, take it. But I swear, if that Roomba records anything—”

“Soundwave’ll delete it,” Optimus said without missing a beat, grabbing Megatron by the hips and spinning him around until his back hit the wall.

Megatron let out a stifled grunt as his plating struck the wall, but before he could snap out a protest, Optimus was on him—mouth at his neck, servos firm and steady as they slid up his inner thighs again.

Megatron gasped, optics flashing wide. “You—slagger—!”

“Shhh,” Optimus breathed, finally pressing his frame flush against Megatron’s. “Let your Conjux worship you properly.”

Megatron stood rigid, every inch of his frame bristling with tension—not from battle, but from the sheer audacity of his so-called Conjux.

Optimus leaned back on the doorway with that smug little smirk that had no right being so devastating. “Come now, darling,” he purred, voice dipped in honey and sin, “surely your vendetta against the vacuum can wait until after I’ve finished thoroughly appreciating you.”

Megatron’s vents hitched. “You—you are insufferable.”

“And you are incredibly grabbable,” Optimus replied smoothly, “It’s hardly my fault. I’m merely reacting to your—assets.”

He reached around and gave said assets another gentle squeeze, just to emphasize the point.

Megatron jolted again, his cannon sputtering pathetically in his grip. “Optimus, I swear on the Pit—”

“Mmhm.” Optimus buried his face against the side of Megatron’s neck, plating warm and lips curved. “I love when you make threats while glowering. It’s so hot.”

“I am NOT glowering—” Megatron glowered as his faceplates heated up. His legs shifted awkwardly, bracing against the wall as Optimus’s servos began a slow, torturously confident massage along the back of his thighs. “Slagging—Prime”

Megatron tried to summon his anger. He really did. But it was difficult to maintain righteous fury when his spark was fluttering and his knees were moments away from giving up entirely. His cooling fans sputtered to life with a pained whrrr, and he swore vengeance on his own subroutines for allowing this betrayal.

“I should... exile you for treason,” Megatron managed weakly, as Optimus slid one hand around his waist to pull their hips together.

“Mm,” came the reply, a low hum against his neck. “You’d miss me too much.”

Then, slowly—torturously—Optimus’s other servo dipped down, slipping between Megatron’s thighs with all the confidence of a mech who knew exactly what buttons to push.

Megatron’s mouth fell open. A pitiful, high-pitched sound escaped him. He clamped it shut, optics flickering violently.

“I hate you,” he hissed, voice shaking.

“You love me,” Optimus corrected, pressing closer, his tone smug and affectionate in equal measure. “Unless, dearest, you truly wish for me to stop?”

“Pit take you,” Megatron growled.

Optimus smiled warmly.

Megatron let out a short, strangled noise—not quite a snarl, not quite a moan—as Optimus’s fingers made an especially devious pass along the paneling of his inner thigh.

And then, the Roomba bumped gently into his ankle again.

Both mechs froze.

Megatron slowly looked down at it. It beeped. Cheerfully.

Optimus, with zero shame, leaned closer and whispered, “Maybe we should take this elsewhere. Or are you into being watched now?”

Megatron's fusion cannon sparked and fell off his arm with a pathetic clunk.

“I’m going to kill that Roomba,” he rasped.

Optimus chuckled and pressed a kiss to his neck cables. “After you’re done letting me take you apart, one plate at a time.”

Megatron’s processor fuzzed.

“…Fine. But I still destroy it afterward.”

“Of course,” Optimus said sweetly. “Right after I destroy you—in the best way.”

And with that, he swept Megatron off his feet. Literally. Because nothing said “fearsome warlord” like being carried bridal-style while stammering curses and demanding vengeance on household appliances.

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.

i feel seen at this post, also I figured out how to reblog stuff, (I don't click any buttons randomly unless I research/find out what it is or risk accidently buying something again)

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