A Poll On Possible Stories

I love your oblivious op!! Stories!!

-Mod

In that case, here's a peek of a short writing (draft) I'm currently working on, of more oblivious Optimus, for the moderator! 😁 (It's mostly a flustered warlord after an oblivious prime tho.)

---

Optimus Prime was in one of his more relaxed moods today, something that Megatron found simultaneously irritating and, well… fascinating. The mech seemed to float through the halls with a kind of effortless confidence, a spark of optimism in his optics that made it impossible for anyone to stay upset around him for long.

Megatron, on the other hand, was in no mood to appreciate such things, he was just trying to get through the day without throwing something at someone’s face. His temper was at a slow simmer, not exactly anger but rather frustration, a strange irritation that cropped up whenever everything around him seemed calm. It made no sense to him, but that didn’t stop it from happening. Somehow if anything, it was worse when people weren’t angry at him.

"You're in a strange mood," Megatron muttered, crossing his arms as Optimus approached, a rare soft smile on his face.

Optimus turned to him with that familiar, unbothered air about him, his expression softened into something that resembled contentment. "I am? Well, I guess I’ve just been thinking," he said, offhandedly.

That was never a good sign. Megatron frowned and raised an optic ridge, bracing himself for whatever ridiculous statement was about to spill from Optimus’ lips. He had learned by now that no words ever came from the Prime without some level of deep, often profound sincerity. Optimus never seemed to realize how utterly... loving his words could sound. “Thinking about what?”

Optimus hesitated for a moment, gaze drifting toward one of the windows as if searching the stars for words. “About... us. Everything we’ve been through. What we’ve become.”

Megatron narrowed his optics, ready to scoff, but Optimus didn’t stop.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye,” Optimus said, voice low now, the tone gentler than usual. “And the past between us is... complicated. But no matter the distance—no matter the miles, or cycles, or shadows—we’ve always found each other again. I suppose I’ve come to realize… I don’t want that to ever stop.”

The former warlord stiffened slightly, unsure how to respond, but Optimus continued—his voice quiet, but unwavering.

“I still believe in you, Megatron. Even when you don’t believe in yourself. Your strength, your conviction—those aren’t just relics of war. They’re part of who you are, and they’ve shaped more than just battlefields. They’ve shaped me. And... I’ll always stand by you. Even if you don’t always understand why.”

There was a pause. A heavy silence.

Optimus continued, unfazed by the way Megatron was glaring at him. He sighed, his voice a soft murmur, his words were meant for only one. "No matter the shadows of our past, I will never stop caring for you, Megatron. I will always believe in you, even when you cannot see your own worth. Your strength, your conviction—those are not just remnants of war, but the very essence of who you are. And I—I will stand by you for as long as the stars burn bright, never wavering in my belief that there is more to you than what the universe has tried to define. You are someone worth fighting for, always."

Megatron stood frozen, every system in his body locking up in slow, stunned succession. His mouth opened, then closed. Then opened again.

Did—did he just—? Megatron blinked rapidly, heat flooding his faceplate. Was that... was that a confession?!

No. It couldn’t be. Optimus couldn’t possibly be aware of what he’d just said, right? He was always saying things like that—deep, philosophical, Prime-like things—without thinking about how romantic they sounded. That had to be it.

Except…

His spark was fluttering. Fluttering.

Optimus smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just poured out what sounded like a confession that could melt even the coldest of sparks. "So yeah. That’s all I wanted to say. I’ll see you around, Megatron. Hope you have a good day!"

And with that, Optimus gave a casual wave, turning away to continue on his calm and fragging unfairly collected way as if nothing unusual had just occurred. As though he hadn’t just cracked open his spark and handed it to Megatron on a silver platter.

Megatron stood frozen in place, his systems suddenly on overload. His faceplate flushed—was that even possible for him? His spark fluttered uncomfortably, and his thoughts spiraled. Had he... had he just been romanced? No. No, that couldn't be right.

Optimus didn’t even know what he was saying half the time, did he? The Prime had just confessed how much he cared for him, and for some reason, it sounded like the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to Megatron. But the problem was—did Optimus even know he was being romantic! He was just so cheerfully oblivious!

"Ugh," Megatron muttered, feeling the heat in his faceplate intensify. He gritted his teeth, desperate to collect himself. How was it possible that a mech like Optimus could make such an epic love declaration with the risk of still being oblivious? "Of all the slagging... Prime... you—" he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples in frustration.

The Prime had turned to wave, his smile so genuine, and somehow... Megatron couldn’t stop the flicker of something far deeper in his chest.

“Frag,” Megatron hissed, pressing the heel of his palm to his helm. “Any cryptic nonsense he could choose to spout and he chose this! He—he can’t just say that and walk away!”

Yet Optimus had. Without flair, without any intention of cruelty. Without realizing, apparently, that he had just unraveled Megatron’s entire processor with one gentle, impossibly sincere statement.

Megatron glanced back, only to find the Prime already gone, the echo of his words still heavy in the air.

He scowled. Or tried to. It came out more like a grimace.

For now, he was left in the wake of Optimus’s (most likely unintentional) romantic confession, caught somewhere between bewilderment, irritation, and—well—something else. Something far more complicated.

And as the moments stretched on, Megatron only had one thought echoing in his mind:

“I really need to have a conversation with that bot.”

---

Three Days Later

Megatron had not, in fact, had a conversation with that bot.

He had planned to. Several times. He’d even rehearsed it—well, muttered angrily to himself in a mirror until Knockout walked by and asked if he was finally cracking.

But every time he so much as caught a glimpse of Optimus in the hallway, all words abandoned him. His mouth would go dry, his optics would flicker, and instead of storming up to demand clarity—to ask, What the frag was that supposed to mean, Prime?!—he would… turn around and leave.

Quickly.

Maybe too quickly.

“I am not avoiding him,” he snapped at Soundwave, who had cocked his helm at him in absolute silence for a full twenty seconds after Megatron took the long way around to avoid the conference room Optimus was in. “I’m simply taking the more tactically sound route. Which just so happens to be in the complete opposite direction.”

Soundwave said nothing. But Megatron could feel the judgment.

He wasn’t hiding. He was observing. Gathering intel. Strategizing.

Which apparently involved watching Optimus from behind corners, ducking behind pillars like a coward, and absolutely not admitting to anyone that every time the Prime smiled at someone else, Megatron’s spark did something complicated and gross in his chest.

He even went so far as to try spying on the Autobot lounge once—Soundwave’s advice, surprisingly. Or perhaps just Soundwave being petty. Either way, Megatron found himself crouched beside a ventilation duct like a glitch-infected fool, watching as Optimus laughed softly with Ratchet over datapads.

It was unbearable.

Unbearably endearing.

“Why is he like this,” Megatron hissed under his breath, gripping the edge of the duct. “Why does he say things like I’ll stand by you for as long as the stars burn bright and then just... carry on like he didn’t just wreck my entire spark chamber?!”

He groaned, thunking his head against the metal.

He couldn’t take much more of this. His pride was suffering, his logic processors were overloaded, and worst of all—he’d started imagining conversations with Optimus in his head. Flirtatious ones. Gentle ones.

Disgusting.

“Primus,” he muttered, dragging his claws down his face. “I’m pining. I’m actually fragging pining.”

That was it. This had to end.

Tomorrow.

Definitely tomorrow.

Probably.

---

Day Four

“You’re staring again,” Knockout said without even looking up from his datapad.

“I am not,” Megatron snapped, all too quickly.

“You are,” Soundwave added, voice bland but with the faintest undertone of judgment.

“I’m monitoring potential threats!” Megatron growled. “That’s strategic.”

“You’ve been monitoring Optimus Prime for twenty minutes,” Knockout pointed out dryly. “He’s just reading.”

“He could be plotting.”

“He’s highlighting passages in a poetry anthology.”

Megatron narrowed his optics at the lounge window where Optimus sat, bathed in the gentle lighting of the rec room, a cup of energon in his hand and a contemplative look on his face.

It was unbearable.

No one had any right to look that serene. Or that handsome. Or that good in lighting.

“I’ll stand by you for as long as the stars burn bright—”

Megatron’s claws clenched involuntarily.

“Ugh.”

He turned away before he could get soft about it again and nearly walked face-first into a grinning, smug, and far-too-amused Starscream.

“Well, well,” the seeker purred. “This is new.”

“What is.” Megatron’s tone was sharp, a warning wrapped in steel.

Starscream was not deterred. “You, getting all dreamy-eyed over our favorite Prime. Are we finally owning up to that long-standing mutual obsession? Because frankly, it’s been killing the morale of everyone who has to witness your romantic incompetence.”

“I am not—!”

“Oh, you are.” Starscream leaned in close, voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “It’s delicious. You’ve been skulking around corners like a glitch-ridden creeperbot, sighing whenever he walks by, and groaning into your servos like some kind of pre-war drama star.”

“I am not groaning—!”

“You literally did yesterday. In the middle of a tactics briefing. You sighed and said ‘Primus, he’s unbearable.’”

“That was abou—about you bring a general pain!”

“No it wasn’t,” Knockout chimed in from across the room, without looking up.

Megatron looked to Soundwave for backup. The spymaster tilted his helm ever so slightly.

Traitor.

Starscream grinned wider, smug satisfaction oozing from every polished strut. “So. Are you going to actually talk to him, or should I just forward him the recording of your latest muttered meltdown in the corridor outside his quarters?”

Megatron froze. “You… recorded me?”

Starscream wiggled his claws mockingly. “Soundwave did. I just watched it. Twice.”

Megatron inhaled slowly through his vents, his expression going perfectly still.

“Starscream.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron?”

“I will melt you into a decorative wall sconce.”

Starscream beamed. “You’ll have to catch me first. I’m light on my peds these days—love does that to a mech, I hear!”

The shriek of rage Megatron let out was entirely unbefitting a warlord.

From the far corner, Soundwave quietly played a three-second clip of Megatron muttering, “How does he sound like he's proposing marriage with every third sentence?”

Starscream cackled as Megatron stormed out, trailing smoke and wounded pride behind him.

Some important information on online safety that should be shared.

Farewell online privacy

Where to find me?

Oblivious_Prime - Ao3

Oblivious_Prime - Wattpad

@oblivious-prime- Tumblr

Oblivious_Prime, @Oblivious_Prime_Optimus YouTube

Note:

I will be posting information about the winning au in the following blog. Info: Chapter onr will be released in AO3, by the end of May 18th 2025. Updates/info/will be posted in this side blog.

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

The Planner Hidden Away

Title: The Wedding Files: Confidential. Do Not Read, Seriously. Stop.

Part One: Journalistic Crimes and Conjux Chaos

Elita One wasn’t snooping.

She happened to be organizing files in Optimus’ quarters—because he sure as Pit wasn’t going to do it himself—and a misplaced datapad just happened to fall into her hands. The bold red words across the front were… “TOP SECRET WEDDING PLANS – DO NOT OPEN – PRIVATE – MEGATRON DO NOT READ (unless you said yes?)”

Which immediately made her open it.

“Elita, we are not violating Prime’s privacy,” Ratchet said, wobbling in with arms full of medical logs and an expression like a mech who desperately wanted plausible deniability. “Put it back.”

“But Ratchet,” she said sweetly, flipping the datapad open, “he labeled it.”

“…With instructions not to open it.”

“Right. That’s like hanging a sign saying ‘No cookies inside, definitely don’t eat.’”

“…You would eat the cookies.”

She grinned. “And look—look at this!”

Ratchet, a medic and war veteran, had seen many horrifying things in his life. Never had he been more stunned than when Elita rotated the datapad toward him and he saw an entire file titled:

"Bridal Veil Options for Megatron (He’ll Pretend to Hate These But Secretly Love Them)"

Ratchet’s face slowly turned a tired grey. “No. Absolutely not. This is—this is romance. I’m out. I’m too old for this slag. I fought in four wars. No.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Elita grabbed his shoulder and forced him back down onto Optimus’ berth. “You’re in this now.”

Entry 17: Veil Option C - Soft white mesh, long cathedral length, attached to a silver head-plate crown (not too gaudy, subtle Decepticon sigil etched beneath). He’ll roll his optics, but I know he’ll smile later when he thinks no one’s looking. Note: ask Knockout to help design.

Entry 42: Vow Draft (Optimus to Megatron): "I once thought you were my enemy. But you are my other half—every fierce word I shouted into the void, you returned tenfold. And through the static and war, I heard you. I still hear you. Even now, I kneel, not in surrender—but in devotion. To you. My fiercest love. My hope, my endless...." It goes on for several pages.

Elita covered her mouth. “He wrote vows. He wrote Megatron wedding vows.”

Ratchet blinked. “He wrote thirty-seven versions.”

“Oh my Primus,” Elita whispered reverently. “He has a color palette for the reception.”

There was an entire spreadsheet labeled “Which shade of blue brings out his fusion cannon best?” with comments like “lavender is too romantic too soon?” and “is navy blue too ‘war criminal chic’?”

They didn’t stop reading until two hours had passed, both of them crying from silent laughter, and Elita desperately trying not to scream “HE PICKED OUT THE FLOWERS BASED ON WHAT HE THINKS WILL MATCH MEGATRON’S EYES.”

—

Part Two: Two Years Later (and One Toddler)

“—and then the handsome, wise hero raised his sword,” Megatron said, seated beside their young sparkling who sat in a soft, reinforced berth, swaddled comfortably, “and he struck down the evil warlord with one mighty swoop—”

“Carierrrr,” the sparkling (named Amorvëael Pax, because “Warcry” was vetoed by Optimus. Aaaand maybe also because Megatron was intensely partial to the name Optimus suggested, not that Megatron would admit), said, squinting up at him. “But what happened to the warlord?”

Megatron grinned—teeth, fangs, and menaces. “Oh, he exploded, obviously.”

“Megatron,” came a low voice from the doorway. “You know the warlord wasn’t evil.”

Megatron groaned, leaning his helm back against the armchair. “Optimus, I am telling a bedtime story. This is a dramatic tale for developmental benefit.”

Optimus stepped into the room like he hadn’t just been doing peace negotiations all day, still looking like every romantic ideal Megatron would never admit he had. He bent over, kissed Megatron’s cheek, then his mouth, and murmured, “The warlord was a victim of their circumstance, of their society’s broken system of repression, and also very pretty.”

The sparkling blinked. “Carrier, were you the warlord?”

Megatron stared. “No.”

Optimus grinned. “Yes.”

Megatron side-eyed him, scowling. “That’s false information. Your sire has no idea what he is talking about.”

Optimus kissed him again, this time longer, and added softly, to both his Conjux and sparkling “Also, I loved him very much. Still do.”

Their sparkling giggled and groaned. “Ew.”

“Someday,” Optimus said cheerfully, ruffling Amorvëael's helm, “you’ll be grateful your parent's are romantic.”

“Someday,” Megatron grunted, dragging Optimus down to sit beside him, then shifting to sit atop the Prime’s lap, “you’ll learn how to properly villainize your spouse for bedtime entertainment purposes.”

Optimus leaned in closer, letting his hands slide to Megatron’s waist. His voice dropped to a mumur, a whisper. “Do you know what I was thinking about all through that meeting?”

Megatron narrowed his optics, suspicious. “…What?”

“You, wearing that wedding gift I picked.” Optimus’ hands squeezed just slightly. “On our first night together. You remember what we did after you took it off?”

Megatron made a small, choked noise that sounded like pure denial and deeply repressed enthusiasm.

“Because I do,” Optimus continued, lips brushing against the tip of Megatron’s audio receptor. “I remember how soft you were. How vocal. And how many hinges we broke off that berth.”

Megatron growled—growled—low in his throat. “We are in front of the sparkling.”

“Hmm.” Optimus grinned, completely unapologetic. “Then you’d better save it for tonight. Besides, they can't hear us, sweetspark.”

The sparkling blinked up at them innocently. “Why is carrier’s face red?”

Optimus stood, lifting Megatron in one arm like it was nothing, and turned toward the hall. “Because we’re going to talk about love and its many expressions, Amorvëael. Bedtime for you.”

"Don't sneak out and eat cookies in the night again! It's bad for your health!” Megatron chastised over his shoulder as he was carried bridal-style down the corridor. He then turned to falsely argue with the Prime. “I am a warlord! I had a feared name! Put me down!”

“You’re my beloved warlord,” Optimus said, lovingly, “and you’re very cuddly when flustered.”

Later that night, Megatron did wear the gift again. Luckily they had long invested in soundproofing.

—

Meanwhile, in their quarters—hidden in the deepest drawer—was a datapad still carefully preserved with labels like:

“Bouquet arrangements for a very stubborn, secretly romantic tyrant.” “Megatron Vows – Final Draft (don’t cry reading these again, idiot).” “Honeymoon suggestions (some of these are just excuses to see him blush).” “Intimate gift plans – do not open until date night (Megatron Edition).”

And at the very bottom: “Wedding File – Complete. Conjux Endurae status: Happily ever after, and then some.”

---

I definitely put way more than necessary thought into their sparkling's name.

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.

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.

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.

Confident Megatron

Chapter Three: Unexpected Quarters (Draft of something I'm currently working on)

Diplomatic missions were supposed to be peaceful.

Which was why Optimus had specifically—firmly—requested separate quarters at the neutral Iaconian outpost. And why Megatron, of course, had very charmingly and deliberately talked the diplomat into giving them one.

“For trust-building,” Megatron had said smoothly, slinging an arm over Optimus’s shoulder. “After all, there’s no greater symbol of peace than two once-rival leaders sharing recharge space.”

Now they were in a single, sleek guest suite, with one berth, one wash station, and one Megatron already sprawled across 80% of the sleeping surface.

“This is ridiculous,” Optimus muttered, arms folded as he surveyed the lack of personal space. “I am not sharing a berth with you.”

Megatron reclined lazily, optics half-lidded in victory. “Why not? It’s not as if you didn’t already fold me in half the last time.”

Optimus paused mid-step. “Megatron—”

“I was gutturally moaning,” Megatron continued smoothly, voice rich with smug satisfaction. “You pinned me to the berth, fragged me so deep my spinal relays misfired. I believe your exact words were, ‘I’m going to break you open until you forget your own name.’”

“Megatron!”

Megatron didn’t even blink. “You did. I walked funny for a cycle and a half. I had to bite a pillow to stop screaming your designation, remember?”

Optimus covered his face with one hand and groaned. “This is a diplomatic summit.”

“Which you’ll be attending after sleeping beside the mech you wrecked last week,” Megatron purred, scooting over with zero shame. “Now come to bed, Prime.”

“You’re insufferable.”

Megatron smirked, “You like that.”

Optimus inhaled sharply through his vents… and finally sat beside him, grumbling as Megatron made room.

“…You’re impossible.”

“You’re the one who made me scream like a corrupted comm file. I’m still recovering.” Megatron falsely pouted.

Optimus rolled his optics, grumbled softly, and pressed closer—mostly to shut him up.

But Megatron didn’t smirk this time. Not entirely.

Instead, his hand found Optimus’s in the dark. Their fingers entwined slowly.

“…I like this,” Megatron murmured, voice softer than before. “Lying here beside you. You’re warm.”

Optimus exhaled slowly and rested his helm back against the berth’s edge, his grip tightening on Megatron’s. “You’re still an aft.”

“I know.”

“But I like this too.”

The silence that followed was quiet. Warm. Something for them and them alone to share.

Peace, for once, wrapped around them like a cloak.

And if Megatron leaned in closer during recharge, if Optimus didn’t pull away—well.

The diplomatic crisis could wait until morning.

---

Shy Optimus x Confident Megatron never fails to make me laugh.

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.

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.