An Argument's Resolution

Draft A Possible Optimus x Megatron Story

NOTE: This will be made into a full work.

This is a potential idea. The short portion below would probably be somewhere near the ending of this story after a lot of ✨ feelings, drama, and pining✨.

----

During yet another painfully familiar attempt at a peace treaty—one of countless efforts that had all ended in spectacular failure—Optimus Prime finds himself exhausted. Worn down not just by war, but by the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. Still, he persists. He has to. For Cybertron.

But when words fail once again, and negotiations spiral into the usual shouting and threats, Optimus tries something… different.

He proposes.

To Megatron.

Megatron, caught off guard, turns a shade of blue no Decepticon has ever achieved, screams a storm of profanities and obscenities, and promptly flees the scene by punching through a wall and making his tactical retreat.

What follows is an agonizing stretch of silence, longing, and entirely too many feelings. Until—finally—

----

Title: Peace Through Passion: Article I

--The Proposal That Ended the War--

Peace talks had never been pleasant, but this one was particularly wretched.

Megatron was lounging sideways across his chair like he owned the building (he did not), Soundwave had hacked the holoscreens to loop footage of Optimus getting hit by debris (again), and Starscream had already said, “Maybe we should just assassinate the Prime,” at least twice.

Optimus, trying to remain diplomatic: “We cannot kill our way into a future, Starscream.”

Starscream: “That sounds like weak Autobot talk.”

Meanwhile, Bumblebee was stress-eating energon cubes, Ultra Magnus was shifting albeit minimally , and Arcee was sharpening a blade with a look that said she wasn’t opposed to ending someone.

And then—it happened.

Megatron leaned back with that insufferable smirk, voice like smoke: “You’ll never get what you want, Prime. You never do.”

And something in Optimus just… broke.

Tired. Lonely. Overwhelmed. Drenched in the sound of decades of war and Megatron’s voice echoing in his head.

So he said: "Then marry me, and we can stop fighting forever."

The room froze.

Soundwave’s optic flared. Starscream gasped like he’d won a drama award. Arcee whispered “What the actual frag.” Ultra Magnus fainted.

Megatron? Megatron turned blue. The deepest, most mortified, short-circuiting shade of blue.

He made a strangled noise.

Pointed at Optimus with the most accusatory servo Cybertron had ever seen.

And then screamed: "YOU—YOU—INSUFFERABLE, SELF-RIGHTEOUS—ROMANTIC FRAGGER!"

Then he ran. Literally ran, punching straight through the hundreds of pounds of steel, and dashing out. Shouting obscenities. Down the hall. Out the building.

Post / The Fallout- Oblivious Prime Strikes Again (the mech not my username, lol)

Optimus: “…Was it something I said?”

Ratchet stared at his very foolish friend:

“... Optimus...You proposed to the Megatron.’”

Bumblebee excitedly witnessing the whole situation: “This is the best day of my life.”

And from that moment on, everything changed.

--The Pining--

Optimus sent flowers.

Daily.

Soundwave kept posting “updates” that were really just edited footage of Megatron brooding on cliffs with dramatic music.

Ultra Magnus locked himself in a closet again. Occasionally screamed into the void.

The treaty was unofficially renamed The Accord of Romantic Intentions.

Ratchet accepted the situation and created an entire seating for potential wedding guests.

Starscream wrote several thinly veiled fanfics and tried to sell them to Knockout.

Optimus tried to be noble. Patient. Dignified.

But secretly?

He missed Megatron so much it hurt.

He missed their fights. Their arguments. The way Megatron’s optics flared when he got mad. That arrogant smirk. The fury.

The fire.

He loved him. Stupidly, endlessly, hopelessly loved him.

And now Megatron was a avoiding him.

--The Return--

Lightning split the sky. Thunder cracked. Dramatically.

And the door to the lounge exploded open.

Megatron stood there, drenched, furious, glowing with righteous rage.

He kicked the door aside and yelled:

“YOU CAN’T JUST LOVE ME, I’M TERRIBLE AT EMOTIONS AND ABSOLUTELY A WAR CRIMINAL!”

Then he hurled the bouquet, yet another one of the Prime's courting gifts, at Optimus.

It was Heliotropes, Forget-me-nots, Red Asters, Hyacinths, and Edelweiss.

Optimus caught it. Smiled.

“Then we’re both disasters. Let’s be terrible together.”

Silence. Crackling lightning. And a flustered warlord.

Megatron stomped forward, grabbed his pauldron, dragged him down, and snarled:

“If you’re going to marry me, you better mean it.”

Optimus, voice soft: “I have a cape picked out.”

Megatron, flushing cobalt: “I HATE YOU.”

Optimus, dreamily: “You will look radiant.”

Starscream sobbed in laughter in the background. Ultra Magnus fainted. Soundwave projected doves and sparkles.

Miko eavesdropping: “NO ONE TELL ME WHAT’S HAPPENING!”

----

Idk if I should make it a full story. But here's a draft of Soundwave's editions to the peace treaty document.

----

Official Treaty Document

THE ACCORD OF ROMANTIC INTENTIONS Ratified on the 20th Cycle of Awkward Love Confessions.

PARTIES INVOLVED:

Optimus Prime, Commander of the Autobots.

Megatron of Kaon, Commander of the Decepticons.

PURPOSE: To formally transition from time of War to marriage proposal as the primary form of Peace.

ARTICLES OF AGREEMENT:

Article I: Public Displays of Affection Shall be mandatory at diplomatic functions, including but not limited to:

War memorial dedications

Annual Peace Summits

Starscream’s sentencing hearings

Article II: Excessive Flower-Gifting Clause Optimus Prime is required to send one (1) bouquet per solar cycle. Failure to comply will result in Megatron throwing a chair. Again.

Article III: Emotional Availability Addendum Megatron will attend weekly sessions with Ratchet titled “Learning to Accept Compliments Without Hissing.”

Article IV: Starscream Gag Order Starscream is not allowed to comment on “the optics of this unholy alliance.” Violation punishable by being seated next to Ultra Magnus at the wedding. For dinner. For eternity.

Article V: The Wedding Shall be a public affair. Dress code: Formal Regalia Theme: “Explosion of Feelings.” Reception music provided by Soundwave. Catering by Knockout. Security by Ironhide, who disapproves.

SIGNATORIES:

Ratchet Soundwave Miko

Megatron

Optimus Prime

----

Optimus put extra thought into the bouquets:

Heliotropes: Devotion and eternal love.

Forget-me-nots: True love and remembrance, a symbol of enduring connection.

Red Asters: Undying devotion and deep emotional love, often symbolizing powerful affection.

Hyacinths: Sincerity and heartfelt emotion, with different colors carrying specific meanings (e.g., blue for constancy, purple for sorrow or asking forgiveness).

Edelweiss: Courage, noble purity, and love, especially in the face of hardship or sacrifice.

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.

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.

Love, War, and High-Grade

New chapter up!

Also thanks to the readers for the lovely words you have left at tumblr. Idk how to reply privately to messages left at inbox so I left my reply in a post without mentioning names in case of privacy.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64323400/chapters/165120823

Cover: Love, War, and High-Grade

I have begun adding my story into Wattpad, so I gave it a cover.

Idk, I may change it.

Title: Love, War, and High-Grade

Oblivious_Prime

Summary:

Optimus drunk calls the Nemesis, resulting in the most embarrassing day of Megatron's life.

Chapters 1-7 on Ao3

Codephrase Choices

Draft of More Oblivious Optimus Moments

Optimus casually recalls teasing Megatron about marriage, unknowingly triggering Megatron’s long-buried crush—leading to flustered punches, dramatic exits, and a room full of exasperated friends finally explaining to Optimus that Megatron likes him, you glorious idiot.

The following is a very, very short/incomplete draft.

---

“Okay,” she said, arms crossed. “We’re doing this now.”

“Doing what?” Optimus asked.

“The conversation,” Ratchet added, rubbing his optics with one hand. “The one we should have had years ago but didn’t because your processor runs on honor and dense titanium.”

“I—thank you?” Optimus said uncertainly.

Ultra Magnus cleared his throat, which meant he was about to say something uncomfortable. “Optimus… Megatron was not enraged. Not truly. That—was not anger.”

Bumblebee leaned over and helpfully translated: “He was blushing. And flailing. And screaming. You don’t do that when you’re mad. You do that when someone tells you they want to marry you and your internal fans fail trying to keep up.”

Optimus blinked. “He punched me.”

“Because he didn’t know how to handle it!” Elita said, exasperated. “Primus, he probably dreamt about that moment for a megacycle afterward and screamed into his berth-pillow about it!”

Soundwave made a soft clicking noise. When everyone turned to him, he shrugged—a clear “She’s right.”

Optimus frowned. “But his face turned red from rage—”

“Nope,” Ratchet cut in. “That was embarrassment. Full energon-flushed facial plating. Textbook flustered warlord.”

“I—what?” Optimus looked genuinely baffled. “But… I joked about marrying him. That’s—surely that’s not something that would make him—”

“Elita,” Ratchet said dryly. “Please tell your noble idiot what flirting is.”

Elita said. “You basically fake-proposed to your secret crush and flirted without knowing it.”

“He’s not my crush!” Optimus blurted.

The entire room fell silent.

Even Soundwave tilted his head, as if questioning the very fabric of reality.

Optimus cleared his throat. “I mean—I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.”

Bee clutched his helm. “Optimus. He punched you twice and ran away screaming both times. That is the universal Cybertronian symbol for ‘I can’t handle how much I like you.’”

Elita sighed, stepping forward and placing both hands on Optimus’s shoulders. “You are the smartest mech I know. You’ve led armies. Taken down tyrants. Been chosen by the Matrix itself. But for the love of Primus, you are the densest mech on Cybertron when it comes to love.”

Optimus opened his mouth.

Then slowly closed it.

And very quietly said, “...He likes me?”

Soundwave made a series of chirps, translated loosely as, "He has liked you since before the war, you chrome-plated romance novel."

Optimus staggered back half a step and sat down heavily in his chair.

A beat of silence passed.

Then:

“...Should I apologize for not realizing sooner?”

“No,” Elita said. “You should go find him before he explodes from mutual pining and throws a chair through a window.”

Bumblebee grinned. “And maybe bring flowers.”

Ratchet muttered, “And wear extra armor. Just in case punch number three’s a knockout.”

Optimus buried his face in his hands.

“Primus help me.”

“No,” Elita said, already pushing him toward the door. “Go help yourself. Preferably by knocking on his door and asking if the proposal still stands.”

“Or if he wants to propose this time,” Bumblebee added.

Ratchet snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Soundwave hummed a quiet tone that sounded suspiciously like a wedding song. "Here Comes The Bride", Richard Wagner's opera Lohengrin.

Shameless Megatron Moment (Lap Gremlin)

Post War A.U. Moment

The council chamber was in chaos.

Councilor Crackhead was red-faced and stammering. Councilor Flatline had her helm in her hands. Starscream looked like he’d combust from sheer secondhand embarrassment. Ratchet had long since given up and was just slumped in his seat, mumbling about resignation letters.

And Megatron… Megatron was purring.

In Optimus’s lap.

And not just sitting there innocently—oh no.

He was grinding, subtle but unmistakable, the smooth curves of his interface panels rubbing slow, deliberate circles against Optimus’s thighs. His hands lazily cupped the Prime’s shoulders, thumbs brushing teasing arcs along the seams of his plating.

Optimus sat bolt upright, stiff as a board, his optics locked on some invisible point on the far wall like it would save him from the situation. It wouldn’t.

Megatron leaned in, lips brushing his audial.

“Do you remember the sound I made when you fragged me over the console last week?” he purred, just loud enough for Optimus to hear.

Optimus didn’t move.

Megatron rocked his hips just so, sending a flicker of heat straight through the Prime’s lap. “The one where I begged you to overload while you were still deep in me?”

Optimus’s vents stuttered.

“And how I whimpered when you called me your pretty thing. You growled it like you meant it.”

“Megatron,” Optimus said tightly, still facing forward.

“Yes, dear?”

Another slow grind. This time, Optimus’s servos twitched where they rested on the arm of the chair, as if fighting a torturous urge to grab Megatron by the hips and make him stay still.

“Last night,” Megatron whispered, mouth curved into a smug grin, “when you took me apart with your fingers and made me say your name like a prayer—how long do you think I’ll last if you do it again? In this chair. With them watching.”

Optimus made a strangled noise. Across the table, Starscream audibly choked.

“You’re impossible,” Optimus muttered under his breath.

“And you’re hard,” Megatron said smugly, arching his back slightly to rub down again. “So I’d say we’re even.”

Optimus was two seconds from transforming and driving into a wall.

“I am going to throw you.”

Megatron curled closer, optics lidded. “You’re going to frag me.”

Councilor Crackhead finally slammed a servo down. “I—! This is a diplomatic hearing! Not your personal berth!”

Megatron tilted his helm innocently. “I’m just engaging in some peaceful bonding.”

“You’re rubbing your aft on the Prime’s lap!”

Soundwave raised one digit in agreement.

“Confirmed.”

Flatline threw down her datapad. “Banned. Banned until further notice. Both of you.”

Optimus stood—with Megatron still in his arms—and nodded solemnly.

“I understand.”

Megatron just smirked. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep me restrained. Eventually.”

—

They didn’t make it five steps down the hall before Megatron resumed whispering filth into Optimus’s audials.

“I want you to tie my wrists again. Press me into the wall. Frag me until I cry.”

Optimus groaned. “You’re going to get us arrested.”

“Then you’ll have to visit me in prison,” Megatron purred. “Bring cuffs. Leave the key behind, we won't need it.”

On Ao3 to read - https://archiveofourown.org/works/64716754