#Junkyard Drive

[metal-dortmund]

Steel Panther@JunkYard, 26.06.2024

Klar, Emanzen und prüdes Volk sind bei dieser Band natürlich fehl am Platz, denn hier jagt eine sexistische Bemerkung und Geste die nächste, aber so ist es ja auch bei deren Texten. Das Rockstar-Gehabe der Zweithaarträger war jedoch auch etwas drüber. Nicht nur, dass das JunkYard sich von ihrem sympathischsten Booker Joe Schmidt getrennt zu haben scheint, mussten vor Einlass erstmal Verzichtserklärungen ausgefüllt werden von den Photographen sowie man sich die Leute, die etwas über den Gig schreiben dürfen, "explizit aussuche". Fand ich schon etwas überzogen und albern. Die Vorband Junkyard Drive (die mir die Dame an der Tür witzigerweise als Junkyard Dave vermittelte) war bereits um 19:20 Uhr bei Einlass um 19 Uhr vorbei. Was ich jedoch hörte, war gar nicht schlecht. Solider Hard Rock der alten Schule. Was auch sonst? Ich stand ja noch draußen und musste auf ein Ticket warten, da meine Berichterstattung offensichtlich zu unwichtig für die Band war, die bei gefüllter Open-Air-Fläche mit etwa 2.000 Leuten, endlich um 20 Uhr anfing. Schon um 21:35 Uhr war die Show bereits vorbei, die einem bei einem Gequatsche, das die Ansagen von Bernhard Weiss (Axxis) bei weitem übertrafen, vorkam wie ein Comedyauftritt mit gefühlten sechs Songs als Untermalung. Aber man hatte schon Spaß und das Publikum schien sichtlich begeistert, wenngleich ich die Veralberung der 80er Haircrimes und Klamotten nicht wirklich nachvollziehen kann. Ich war ja noch beim Original dabei. Auch mussten wieder Frauen auf die Bühne geholt werden und einige holten die Möpse raus. Schien mir aber eher, dass die guten Hasen unten geblieben sind. Bei einem Eintrittspreis von 50 Euro und Shirts für 40 Euro hätte ich, ehrlich gesagt, mehr erwartet, aber es war schon recht unterhaltsam. Vor allem als improvisiert wurde und jeder ein deutsches Schweinewort in die versauten Texte einbauen sollte. Fazit: Show war ok, aber am besten waren die Fans, die mir nämlich ein Ticket geschenkt haben. Jetzt haben die auch ihren Artikel, weil ich nämlich einfach meine Pressefreiheit nutze.

[metalshockfinland]

JUNKYARD DRIVE Return with New Album “Look At Me Now”, Out Now

Photo by Klaus Rudbæk Danish hard rockers JUNKYARD DRIVE return with a new album, more energetic than ever before. The new album, with the title “Look At Me Now”, presents a band with new energy and inspiration. Since 2014, Junkyard Drive has been determined to be the band that provides the soundtrack to life in the fast lane with the audience as passengers. Every time! With three critically…

[rockposerdotcom]

Junkyard Drive Re-Release 'Black Coffee' On Vinyl In September

After a promising debut album in 2017, Danish hard rockers Junkyard Drive were ready to explode in the scene in 2018 with their second studio effort, ‘Black Coffee‘. The timing was right, the band was kinda hot, but no one could expect the amazing collection of songs that the collective would write and record for the album. The record was an instant success, with hits such as ‘Where I Belong‘,…

[paunchsalazar]

Dean should have been the new new Bobby… I’ll kill myself

[16cl]

anyone here know anything about cars.... i'm so lost........,,

[melpcmene]

consider this. jay sometimes attempts to save 'cos he's used to saving up his money during his childhood for things that other children easily get, from sweets to the latest comics. ( though then again, in the past i doubt sweets were expensive. they had better financial times back in the day. ) though the impulse to buy whatever he sees is strong. especially when it comes to sweets 'cos why not? but he tries to save and seeks out any discounts because he's so used to it.

[townofcadence]

“Is there a reason yer here on yer own?” (From Rin LET’S GO ARTAIR!!)

First Meeting Starters

Artair blinked at hearing the voice, before wheeling around. There was a kid-- well, a kid by his standards, if the rounder edge to her face was an indicator of her age-- standing there, about his height. She was a young girl with brown hair and warm gold eyes. He could immediately see freckles down her nose until they disappeared behind a band-aid, a scar on her cheek and one on her lip.

She looked a little scruffed, with grease in a few places, like maybe she'd been out here in the scrapyard too for a while. If he had to guess she might frequent here, given she looked strong, and recognized it was weird he was here. Maybe she worked around here or something? Or if there was a buddy system rule, she might know he shouldn't be here alone.

He supposed it was weird either way, to see a random guy out here alone at night.

"Uh--" He rubbed at the back of his head, tilting it slightly into his hand to offer her a curious, but sheepish look. Maybe he'd look clueless enough not to come across as bad news. "Am I... not supposed to be?"

[midnightmishaps]

Not to be dramatic but what was the point of this car crash bc it wasn’t my fault OR bad enough to write off my car on insurance (which might be worth more than what I paid for this car)

All I get is just an uglier car and no life lessons or money like ily misty but u look poxy asf babe and I can’t afford to fix u

[keferon]

Hey uhm, just thinking bout your mecha au like usual, nothing new for me at this point.

But something came to mind when thinking about Ratchet and Deadlock, specifically how, Deadlock isn't well, a mecha suit, he could very well just have a car altmode, right???

Like, did he have one before coming to earth? He has no reason to take the form of a mecha suit since Ratchet most certainly has no plans on riding one.

In general tho, if he needs to go into hiding my guy could just pretend to be an old car Ratchet found in the junkyard that is earth rn.

Yep! Absolutely

Ratchet would be like: Damn, we need to hide you somehow. You’re too big to walk around on your own

And Deadlock would just like: oh yeah. Not a problem. Lemme just cssht-tche-tch-thu realquick

Meanwhile Ratchet is just WAIT YOU CAN DO THAT?????

Deadlock would happily drive his lil human around hehe

Next

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Feverish Confessions

G/N. 1.8k. You kindly take care of Gun. Soft. Masterlists

You were under the notion that Gun Park could not get ill.

That his antibodies also had ultra instinct and there was no virus strong enough to even consider invading his body.

But alas, you found out he was human when you discovered him unsteady on his feet, pink cheeked and sweat sheened.

"You ok?" You ask, reaching out the back of your hand to feel his forehead.

"Don't touch me," he says without any of his usual bite. That was the first warning sign.

The second one comes when he fails to dodge your grasp and you do make contact with his skin.

"You're burning up."

"I'm not."

"You're ill."

"I'm not."

"You're being a child "

"I am not."

.

.

You decide the best course of action is to get Gun home. He's in no fit state to find his own way back and Goo is no help. In fact, no one is any help at all when Gun's energy quickly drains and he struggles to stay upright.

"How fucking heavy are you," you grit out, trying to push his weight off you.

"Fuck you," Gun mutters as Goo whispers something to Kouji and he snorts.

"Poor oppa," Crystal titters, a smirk on her face, watching you both with sharp eyes.

"Fuck you," Gun now directs in her general direction.

"Yeah, fuck you all," you snap in agreement, staggering under the heft of his body.

.

.

With a strength and patience you didn't know you possessed, you wrestle him into the passenger seat of your car and drive Gun home at breakneck speed.

He murmurs, delirious fever-induced ramblings, between laboured breaths as you hum in response, keeping your attention on the road.

To your surprise, you catch him speaking your name and each time your eyes flicker to his, you find him staring at you, even if his own eyes appear glazed and unfocused.

Gun repeats your name again, like a question.

"Nearly home," you tell him as a way of comfort and seemingly appeased, he doesn't say anything else.

.

.

"All that money and you still live in a junkyard," you comment, holding on to his arm around your shoulder and the other around his waist, slowly ambling towards his shack.

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up when you don't live in a shit hole anymore."

"Shut up."

"Make me," you stop in your tracks and send a cocky grin his way.

Gun, in his weakened condition, only manages to glare back.

"That's what I thought."

"I said shut up."

.

.

Gun collapses into bed, or more accurately you try and throw him off you and hope for the best that he lands onto a more comfortable surface.

You take in his sorry state and actually find yourself feeling sympathy for him. All that money and power but when it comes down to it, who is there to look after him when he needs it? It's a lonely existence.

(Not that you're faring any better but you push that thought out of your mind.)

"Don't you dare kick me," you warn, bending to take off his shoes.

"Stop," he moans, barely lucid and you know that if he was any healthier, you would have been booted in the side of the head.

You look at him again and probably against your better judgement, decide your next move.

"I swear I'm not taking advantage of you," you say, holding your hands up to show you mean no harm and making quick work of his clothes - unbuttoning his shirt and his slacks and removing his socks.

Gun doesn't respond and he doesn't fight you. You know this looks questionable. Undressing an unconscious person is never a good sign. Except he's lying there with his flushed cheeks and clammy forehead, fringe flopping down and sticking to his face and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth for him.

Once he's down to his underwear, you tuck him under the covers.

You hum to yourself, feeling for his forehead again. Gun groans under your touch but he's no worse than this morning.

.

.

Gun's pantry, despite the threadbare surroundings, is exceptionally well stocked.

You know from your many outings together of his high standards though you didn't expect that he was much of a cook himself. Of course, you should have known that Gun Park doesn't do anything by halves.

After rooting through his cupboards and drawers, you find what you need. You cover a saucepan with rice and adjust water levels according to the length of your finger knuckle, seasoning it with various spices and adding ingredients from his fridge.

What you're doing for him is above and beyond. You've already assured his comfort, cooking him rice porridge is unnecessary, and you can imagine unappreciated-

However, you think of all those times you've been out with Gun and Goo, drank more than your fair share of Soju and Gun is the one who has delivered you safely home; Gun’s cruel taunts when you come back from fights with bruises and cuts and his disparaging comments even as he makes time to train you to be a better fighter; how Gun never snaps at you the same way he does Kouji, or talk to you how he does Crystal, or treat you how he does Goo and-

Well. Maybe he does deserve a little of your kindness.

.

.

An hour later, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon and you’ve had more than your fill of doom scrolling - the rice porridge is ready.

You spoon a small bowl for Gun and set it on his nightstand.

“Who are you?” comes Gun’s croaky voice, hand shooting forward and snatching at your wrist.

“It’s me,” you say, “And be careful you don’t knock this off.”

HIs grip lessens but he doesn’t let go. “Knock what off?”

“I made you food,” you sit down on the bed next to his lying form.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why, look at you!” 

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, don’t be an asshole.”

Two blinks, then - “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Because!” you huff, feeling your face flush.

“Do you like me?” Gun asks, and the question is so left field you’re reeling. You don’t have a chance to respond or even collect your thoughts before he continues on in his fever haze.

“I caught a fragrance the other day that smells exactly like you. It’s odd that I know this.” He looks towards the ceiling, mind a blur of thoughts.

“When did I start to hoard these facts like a pathetic idiot? I barely know who you are, what you like and what you dislike. And yet I look at you and I can tell exactly what you're thinking."

"Can you do the same to me?" Gun turns to look at you, eyes a dull bronze and you forget to breathe. There’s a startling clarity as his gaze pierces yours. 

“Wh-what?” You stammer at his sudden confession, the sight of his natural eyes leaving your sanity further hanging by a thread. Did he just- Did he mean?

“Maybe not.” The clarity fades. Gun closes his eyes and finally lets go. "Only a fool wouldn't be able to tell."

"Oh." Then you add, “Am I a fool?”

"Only a fool would like another fool."

.

.

The bowl of rice porridge is left uneaten. 

.

.

You watch Gun, coughing in his sleep, and message Crystal that you won’t make it into work the next day.

.

.

That night, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Gun’s timeworn sofa digging into your back and his jacket as a make-shift blanket keeping you warm.

It smells like him. Of course it does, it’s his. But you realise you recognise his scent too.

.

.

Gun spends the next day floating between half-conscious and sleeping. He no longer has any burst of energy to compose his thoughts or spill his desires.

You check in on him every now and then, pleased when you find his bowl empty and refilling it each time. 

You hand searches for his forehead. It never fails to smooth the furrow between his brow as he murmurs your name in his sleep.

.

.

It’s sort of funny how those few words changed how you look at this man.

The other day he was a pain in your backside, and you could have sworn you were one in his too.

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you wanted to punch him for his scathing remarks, that arrogant glint in his eyes, that smirk on his face.

Yet now, those feelings don’t really lessen, but you wonder if Gun would keep smirking or would he shut up if you kissed him instead.

.

.

Crystal: Assume you’re not coming into work tomorrow?

Y/N: Sorry, Gun still looks bad.

Goo: Gun????????

Goo: You’re shacking up with Gun????

Y/N: What?????

Y/N: No!!!

Y/N: I’m not shacking up with anyone!

Goo: Liar 

Kouji: Ok…

Kouji: But

Kouji: You’ve been skipping work to look after hyung?

Y/N: …

Y/N: No?

Y/N: Maybe…

Crystal: Yes you have

Goo: What!!! Nooooooo

Kouji: Pay up, Goo Kim. I was right.

.

.

Gun’s fever breaks the day after.

Your hand reaches out to feel his forehead and he opens his eyes, dark as night once more, to look at you.

“You’re still here?”

“I am,” You give him a smile when you feel his temperature back to normal.

He reaches up, large hand and long fingers wrapping around your own, and manoeuvres it down to rest your palm against his cheek.

“You’ve been here all this time?”

His fever has subsided, but the contact makes you feel like you’re on fire, “Yep.”

A hum, then “Good.” 

Gun leans into your hold, turning his head, the side of his lips lightly grazing your skin.

“Can you tell what I am thinking?”

You’re rewarded with a smile, small and serene, when you roll your eyes and tell him yes, and that you're both fools after all.

[embarrassingmf]

What Was I Thinkin’

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: you find yourself sneaking out of bobby’s house to be with your boyfriend, dean.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k (I’m writing longer fics yay!)

WARNINGS: established relationship, early seasons dean bc I feel like he’d be more likely to do this, me trying to combine lyrics of a song into a fic (yes, that deserves a warning.)

A/N: uhh obviously this was inspired by What Was I Thinkin’ by Dierks Bentley (PLS LISTEN TO THAT AND 5-1-5-0, THEY’RE BOTH SO GOOD🙏🙏 /nf) also I know dean probably wouldn’t listen to country music but let’s js pretend for the sake of the fic!

You were lying in bed, staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling as you waited for a certain someone to throw a small pebble at your window.

When you heard the thump against your window, you immediately sprung up and looked out.

It was your boyfriend, Dean.

Well… secret boyfriend, technically. Your father, Bobby, didn’t know about you guys yet!

You always remember all the times Bobby had chewed you a new one, blabbering about how much of a bad influence Dean would be.

You didn’t think so, you saw the good in Dean, how sweet he could be despite his rough edges.

Once Dean saw your head peek through the window, a wide grin appeared on his face.

He threw you a wink before beckoning you to come to him. You nodded and quickly shut your window.

You snuck out of your bedroom, narrowly avoiding the floorboards that you knew for sure would creak and possibly wake up your father.

Sneaking out with Dean or friends in general had its perks.

That perk being knowing which floorboards to avoid and which ones to not avoid.

It took you a few extra minutes to get out the front door this time around because last time Bobby had already been awake for some odd reason and asked what you were doing up.

You quickly made an excuse, saying you were getting some water before hastily filling up a glass and retreating back to your room.

It was safe to say that you made it out of the house without any interference from Bobby.

That was until you heard him faintly cursing from inside the house, and you just knew that he saw or heard you sneak out.

You rushed over to Dean’s Impala — or *Baby* as he always called it — and swung the door open, almost ripping it off before climbing inside.

“Drive. Now!” You told Dean in a slightly panicked tone.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over, seeing Bobby running out of the house and waving a 12-gauge.

He put Baby in drive and tore out of the junkyard and he could hear Bobby fire a few shots.

He’d have to check his tailgate later.

After speeding down the road for a bit, Dean reached over and pulled out a mixtape for you to take.

me ‘n them was the title that was messily scrawled onto it.

“What’s this?” Came your questioning voice, yet you put the mixtape into the dashboard anyway.

“It’s a mixtape I made. It’s ‘bout us.” Dean explained proudly, hitting a button on the dashboard before you heard a country song start playing.

You looked over at him, slack-jawed and eyes wide. In all the time that you know him, he never listened to country music.

“What Was I Thinkin’ by Dierks Bentley, seriously?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if Dean was in the right headspace.

“Just listen to it!” Dean assured, casting a glance in your direction. “I promise it’ll remind you about us.”

You sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat of the Impala, listening to the lyrics of the song that was playing.

She snuck out one night and met me by the front gate

Her daddy came out wavin' that 12-gauge

We tore out the drive, he peppered my tailgate

What was I thinkin'?

You scoffed at listening to the lyrics, it sounded just like what had happened moments earlier.

You reached out to turn it off, or skip the song, but Dean smacked your hand away.

“Uh-uh, you’re listening to this song whether you like it or not.” Dean chided, waving a finger in your direction. You huffed.

Oh, I knew there'd be hell to pay

But that crossed my mind a little too late

You had later noticed Dean taking a dirt path that was off the highway, but you didn’t question it. You had a vague idea on what he was planning to do.

So instead, you busied yourself with listening to the lyrics of the Dierks Bentley song that was starting to become catchy.

'Cause I was thinkin' 'bout a little white tank top

Sittin' right there in the middle by me

I was thinkin' 'bout a long kiss

Man, just gotta get goin' where the night might lead

I know what I was feelin'

But what was I thinkin'?

What was I thinkin'?

You felt the Impala jolt slightly as Dean put it in park, opening the car door and climbing out.

You climbed out as well, watching as Dean sat on the hood of Baby and glanced back at you before patting the spot next to him.

You wordlessly complied, the front of the Impala shifting and creaming under your guys’ combined weight.

Dean leaned in close, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin where your neck and shoulder met.

You chuckled, nudging Dean away before looking at him.

“Did you really take me out here just to see the stars?” Dean placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense at the prospect that you didn’t like his surprise.

“You don’t like my gift?” Dean asked, his tone full of playful accusation. “I’ll have you know that I planned this out perfectly.”

You laughed, turning back to the night sky.

“Whatever,”

Dean laughed as well, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

—————————————————————————

It wasn’t until half past two that Dean had gotten you home, and he couldn’t deny the spike of slight nervousness he felt when he saw Bobby sitting on the porch.

That stupid 12-gauge was still with him, too. It was leaning against the porch steps, almost taunting him.

To be honest, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Bobby decided to shoot him in the chest right there and then.

But he didn’t.

Instead he slowly got up and walked over, arms crossed as he examined the two of you.

Bobby’s eyes landed on Dean, his gaze scrutinizing.

“You idjit, thinkin’ you could just make my child sneak out the house to hang out with ya?” He grunted before moving his gaze to you.

“And you.” You shifted awkwardly, swallowing down your nerves.

You were a hundred percent ready for your father to demand that you stop seeing Dean, even if it’d break your heart.

“I can tell you really like this idjit,” Bobby admitted with a sigh, his arms dropping to the side. “So I’ll let this whole thing slide.”

You felt relief hit you like a freight train, your eyes lighting up with a hint of hope.

“Really?”

Bobby nodded, “Yup. Just make sure to tell me if you’re gonna sneak out later in the night so I don’t almost have a heart attack worryin’ about you.”

You laughed quietly, looking over at Dean.

“Okay, dad.”

Bobby gave a small smile before he walked back inside.

You turned to Dean, smiling at him. “Well, I’ll see ya next time you arrange a date for us.

Dean smirked, “you bet.”

You stepped closer before leaning up and kissing his cheek.

Dean’s smirk fell into a giddy smile before he pulled you in for a proper kiss on the lips.

Soon after, he watched you run back inside as you waved wildly at him in goodbye before the front door closed behind you.

—————————————————————————

tags<3 : @ryvkkr

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[metalshockfinland]

Exlusive Premiere for Finland: JUNKYARD DRIVE 'Tearaway' Official Video

Photo by Klaus Rudbæk After 10 years on the rock scenes, JUNKYARD DRIVE is ready with their new single release, “Tearaway”. The Danish hard rock band explores the rebellious side of the rock genre, where noise and raw energy are kings, and where society’s rules and norms are challenged. With this new single, from their upcoming album, Junkyard Drive embraces a new sound and lyrical universe,…

[idontknowanyonesblog]

How I think the bayverse bots would react after having an argument/ disagreement with there s/o

This one includes Drift, Crosshairs, Bumblebee, Hound, Hot Rod and Optimus

Cade calls reader kid a few times but he literally calls everyone younger then him kid so don’t worry😭

Drift:

Drift was stressed. He felt like Optimus was relying on him more and more ever since the TRF came after the autobots. Meditating was something Drift did to calm himself down so that’s what he went to do. He sat on the far side of the junkyard trying to clear his thoughts before you came over to him to tell him something before he interrupted you and went off. You just looked up at him bewildered that he would blow up at you for no reason at all. You scoffed at him before speaking in a hurt tone “well if you wanna be alone then we can arrange that!”. It literally took him like 10 seconds to realize that he shouldn’t have done that but you had already walked away. You decided to give him the silent treatment for a few days. It was hard for him to watch you walk right past him and not even look his direction. Once he finally decided enough was enough he cornered you and gave you a genuine apology. “I’m so sorry my precious flower I didn’t mean to yell at you, I wasn’t thinking clearly but that still isn’t an excuse.” He said to you as he kneeled down and bowed his head in shame. How could you not forgive him? Especially as his bright blue optics were full of guilt. He looked like a kicked puppy. “It’s okay Drift, I understand. You just were really stressed out.” You said reassuringly to him to make sure he didn’t feel TO bad. He still felt super guilty and took you out on a drive through a really nice country area and told you how much he loves you and loves being with you.

Crosshairs:

We all know Crosshairs can be a rude jerk (once in a while tho) so it’s no surprise you two finally had an argument. He just being snapping, rude, irritated for no reason and just overall an asshole that day. “What’s your problem Cross? You’ve been so…bitchy to me all day! If I did something wrong just tell me!” You said in an annoyed voice, finally having enough of this. Your words just seemed to piss him off more. He looked at you and went off about how you never leave him alone and how everyone is always on his ass etc. You huffed and walked away not wanting to deal with him anymore. It had been a few hours and he still didn’t come looking for you which actually kinda hurt. You assumed he just didn’t care or felt no remorse but that quickly changed when Cade came over to you. “Listen kid, you needa go make things right with your hissy fit boyfriend over there cus apparently you two got in a fight and now he won’t talk to anyone!” Cade said slightly out of breath from running across the junkyard. You were shocked. Not only because of what Cade told you but because Crosshairs literally never told anyone anything so it was a bit of a surprise he told Cade you guys had an argument. You sighed and went to look for him and when you finally found him he was facing away from everyone with his arms crossed like a child that had just been sent to time out. It was actually kinda funny but this wasn’t the time to laugh. “Crosshairs…I’m sorry that I said you were acting bitchy. I-I didn’t mean to say it like that, I just wanted to find out why you were so rude to me today…” You said in a soft voice as you stepped closer to him. “No, it’s fine. I’m the one who should be apologizing, I didn’t mean to yell at you love.” He sighed and turned to look at you. You smiled at him and walked up to him. He picked you up and placed you on his shoulder and proceeded to tell you how much he loved you for the next 10 minutes.

Bumblebee:

Arguments with Bee were extremely rare like EXTREMELY rare, but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen from time to time. It was late when the two of you got back to the junkyard and to say you were pretty pissed was an understatement. He was being reckless and dangerous with you so you scolded him (and yelled in a very angry manner at him) until your throat was sore. He made a sad little wiring sound and slumped forward, clearly ashamed of himself. You left without saying a word. You woke up the next morning to the sound of something tapping on your window. You groaned and got up to open the curtains and when you did you saw Bee kneeled down and tapping at your window. You sighed and went outside so you could see him fully. You put your hands on your hips as he looked down at you with his light baby blue optics. “Bee listen, I-“ before you could finish he cut you off with a static sound. A few moments later the lyrics to careless whisper started to play out of his radio.

“So I'm never gonna dance again the way I danced with you~

Never without your love~

Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd~”

A small laugh escaped your lips and you let out a little smile at him. You rolled your eyes playfully at him. “Okay okay, I forgive you Bee!” You chuckled lightly. “Good-I love you” his radio buzzed out between crackles. Just as you were about to go back inside his radio buzzed once more. “Love me, love me, say that you love me~” The cardigans, nice band choice. You turned to look at him with a large smile. “I love you very much Bee.” He made a happy little clicking and wiring sound as he bent down to you. You placed a hand on the side of his muzzle and gave him a small kiss before going back inside.

Hound:

Hound was know for being reckless and making poor decisions and this was another one of those poor decisions. The day started off fine until Cade said he needed him to come with him to check out a demolished town about a two or so hours from the junkyard. You heard Cade say something about “traces of energon” and you automatically knew this wasn’t going to end up well. Hound and Cade left the Junkyard for over 6 hours which you made you worry. A twisted sick feeling in your stomach as you prayed that they would come back unharmed, and well they did come back, they didn’t come back unharmed. Cade explained how the TRF found them and how they had to get out of there. Cade was scratched and bruised everywhere and Hound looked worse than you’ve ever seen. After patching up Cade and fixing Hound they got the scolding of a lifetime. Cade went inside his trailer while you decided to walk away from Hound and settle this more in the morning. The next day you went to go find him and went off about

how reckless he was being. “I just don’t understand why you have to always put yourself in these situations! I-i was worried sick a-and I thought you weren’t going to come back!” You said in distress. Hound looked extremely guilty and regretful. He knew how much you worried for him. “I’m sorry Y/n, I really am! I didn’t think twice about it but at least we got out alive. Damn fleshy no good back stabbing humans…” He muttered the last part. You sighed and looked up at him. “It’s fine Hound, I was just really worried. Just please try not to be as careless next time.” You said softly to him. He met your gaze and nodded. “I won’t, I promise. I love you Y/n.” He said. “Love you to Hound.” you said with a light smile.

Hot Rod:

This takes place at Sir Edmontons castle when Bumblebee and Cade arrive so like reader lives at the castle with Sir Edmonton.

Hot Rod was acting strange around you. Giving you short replies to your questions and barely speaking to you ever since Cade and Bumblebee arrived at the castle. It upset you that suddenly he just stopped talking to you but there was only so much you could do. You decided to take a walk through the gardens to clear your head and on the way you found Bumblebee. The two of you chatted a little bit until you saw Hot Rod in the distance and waved to him. He waved back and looked like he was about to come over until he noticed Bumblebee standing next to you and turned away. So that’s the problem. He was mad about you and Bumblebee spending time together. Bumblebee made a small wiring sound and shrugged as he looked down at you with a confused expression. “It’s nothing personal Bee, I’ll go talk to him…” you sighed and went in the direction where Hot Rod was going. Once you caught up to him you realized you were walking near the edge of the cliff that met the ocean. The sunset casting a beautiful orange glow onto the castle grounds. “Hot Rod, what’s wrong? You aren’t speaking to me lately.” You asked him softly as you walked next to him. “There is nothing wrong Amour.” He said a bit irritated. “Don’t lie to me, I saw the way you looked at Bumblebee. And it’s no coincidence that as soon as he shows up you stop talking to me so please just tell me what I did wrong!” You pleaded in a hurt voice. Hot Rod sighed before coming to a stop and kneeling down in front of you. “I’m sorry chérie, I just feel like as soon as Bumblebee came you stopped speaking with me as much and I got jealous so I stopped talking to you.” He admitted in a remorseful tone. You could see the guilt on his face as he refused to make eye contact with you. You felt just as bad, it was never your intention to ignore him, you were just curious when you got to meet another autobot for once. You placed a hand on the side of his face gently. “Hot Rod, I’m so so so sorry. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was uninterested in you, I was just curious about finally meeting another autobot. I would never try and replace you my love.” You said to him with a soft expression. “ I you didn’t mean anything by it Y/n, it was irresponsible of me to act like I did. I love you more than anything.” He said as he placed his hands around your waist and lifted you up. “I love you to Hot Rod.” You giggled before kissing him gently.

Optimus Prime:

Because Optimus wasn’t really in the last knight that much until the end of the movie I’m just gonna stick with the junkyard for this one sorry guys🙏

Optimus was tired. He was tired, stressed, sore and exhausted from everything. For months he had been protecting the autobots, you and Cade. He had been protecting his friends. His family. You noticed how tired Optimus was and you barely ever saw him anymore. You wished he could catch a break but he always overworked himself. One night he looked rougher than usual and that’s when you finally spoke up. “Optimus, you need to rest. You’ve been working your ass off day and night to keep everyone safe and happy but you don’t take the time to make sure you’re safe and happy.” You said as you paced around in front of him. His deep gravely voice braking you out of your trance. “I’m not a child Y/n, I know what I need and I do not need to rest.” His comment made you clench your fists. You were simply trying to look out for him and he gives you some snappy little comeback. You knew it wasn’t his fault, he was exhausted and obviously frustrated with everything going on. A sigh left your lips as you muttered a small goodnight to him before walking away to get some rest yourself but all night you couldn’t stop wishing that he was at rest to. Optimus watched as you walked away, a feeling of guilt ate away at his spark. You were trying to do what was best for him and he pushed you away. After talking a bit with Cade about the little argument he decided to finally get some rest and deal with it in the morning. Once morning finally came Optimus spotted you walking to the auto shop in the middle of the junkyard. You heard his loud thunderous footsteps and looked over at him, your expression a bit gloomy from what happened yesterday. He kneeled down to you and looked you deep in your eyes. “I’m so sorry for talking to you like that the other night my sweetspark, I didn’t mean to snap and you were right, I do need to rest.” He said in a deep tired voice. He looked so guilty but only sincere with his apology to you that it made your heart flutter. You smiled softly at him before speaking. “It’s okay Optimus, I’m just glad you’re starting to realize what’s best for you.” He nodded and gave you another apologetic look before standing up again. “I must go out with Cade, he needs me for something but I will be back shortly. I love you Y/n.” Optimus said before transforming into his truck mode. “Love you to Optimus and be safe.” You said back to him as he drove off towards Cade. You couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

OK THATS IT BYE❤️

[girlystories]

Being the Bowers gang girl

*ೃ::Both platonic & romantic headcanon

– pairings: various x reader

addition warnings: swearing, bullying, very few depictions of sexism, few derogatory names, toxicity, abusive parenting.

words: 2.6k

this was entirely inspired by z0mbiekittyy, so please check them out!

Meeting/joining the gang

you were at first the quiet, loner girl who kept to herself, only having a few acquaintances, with very few friends.

it wasn't because you were a loser. only the opposite. everyone wanted to become friends with you or get to know you in some way but you never let anyone get close.

everyone had heard of you of course. when they realized you were different they stopped trying to read you or make their mind about you.

that was until greta keene couldn't get enough. she hated the attention you got. so one day she started spreading rumors about you.

it was relatively easy, since no one knew you enough to disprove them in any way. one word went to another and everyone in town now started talking shit about you.

despite that, you didn't care. you had your mind somewhere else. popularity and school drama weren't your thing.

you didn't mind hearing the remarks spat at you when you wandered the halls or when you were in class. you were completely and utterly unbothered.

word got fast that it even reached the all too feared bowers gang.

you were making your way to biology class when you were shoved against a locker, all your books falling one by one on the floor.

"well well well, if it isn't derry's most favored whore", henry was the first to indulge in the act.

he was followed by vic, or – as he liked to refer to him as his 'right-man', "hey, hank. why haven't we ever tried to mess with her before?"

you tried to back up slowly, but your back hit against another frame. when you looked up your eyes met with a pair of green ones, followed by an unsettling smile.

it seemed like no one noticed what was happening – or in better words, no one gave a shit about what was happening.

"dont worry, [name], we're not gonna kill you, jeez," belch revealed.

that made henry groan and turn his head towards his friend. "shut up."

patrick, still behind you, held onto your shoulders, which was very easy due to his height. "or we will, you will find out soon."

"both of you shut up," henry silenced them before it could escalate to something else. "so, how about you come with us for a ride? ya'know, get some air n' stuff."

"you mean like skipping school?", you asked.

"why? are you scared? I'm sure your reputation is as shitty as it can get. can't get any worse than that. even ours is better."

you shrugged, and just decided to follow them. just as you sat at your seat – between vic and patrick, you couldn't make out the read ahead of you, as they were driving recklessly. where you were, you hadn't the slightest clue.

they were laughing and howling, sometimes shouting at the drives passing by.

you? well, you were scared shitless. you clung onto your seat belt, and holding back the urge to start shrieking.

after a while you got used to it and had to admit deep down it was kinda fun.

when you stopped, you realized you were at a junkyard. they prepared a fire when the sun began to set down and opened some bottles of beer.

as you all circled around the fire you began to talk about whatever. you also found yourself to... tolerate them. or, better yet, even enjoy their company.

before you knew it, little by little you hang more and more with them, slowly becoming one of them. it was the first time you were a part of something. they felt like home and you could trust them, despite the hardships and more extreme emotional outbursts.

your reputation got even worse but you didn't care. you had found your people.

Activities

other than hanging out in the junkyard, you guys do other stuff (of course).

it's like you all live together, while you also don't. frequent sleepovers, meet-ups on each other houses take place, ect.

vic once convinced you all to go camping a few towns away. despite being the one who recommended the idea, he ended up despicing it. on the other hand, patrick who hated the idea ended up having the most fun. scaring vic by hiding bugs in his tent and pretending he was hearing bears or wolves. belch had enough and kept demanding they'd stop fighting, while you kept laughing at vic's reactions everytime. you never went camping again.

every morning belch picks everyone in order, first henry, then patrick, then you, and lastly – the sleeping queen himself: vic.

then, you make a stop at the local diner, everyone choosing their own specific order that the waitress had already memorized.

unless vic had a hangover from the party the day before, he wouldn't stop complaining about who-knows-what.

sometimes, when you were really bored, you'd go out of town in search of abandoned places, owning them for a while until someone else found them and ruined them almost immediately.

it was expected and common sense you'd show up at ever party. then you all would split for a while but meet up in order to leave. belch was in priority not to drink or get high until anyone else got a license. that's what you all agreed on but that possiblility seemed unlikely.

at school you avoided bullying anyone, but giving up on trying to stop them from terrosizing another kid since it was the only thing they ignored you on. the only time you fought back was to defend yourself. not that you needed to, but because you wanted them to know that you weren't as incompetent as you seemed.

when you had the change you'd shoot empty beer bottles with henry's dad's gun.

Henry Bowers

you and henry would share your deep wounds together. him about his alcoholic and insane old man, and you about your hard time fitting in, both in family and friends.

you would joke around, but to an extent. if you said the wrong thing he'd refuse to speak to you for days, weeks or maybe even months – depending how much it affected him. if he was too stubborn, vic would have to somehow find a way to talk him out of his bitchy attitude.

despite him trying to seem hard-shelled, deep down he was very sensitive. he knew you knew that, and he hated it. it was the only thing he hated about you except the fact that tend to be pushy sometimes.

he had never cried in front the guys, but one day he couldn't hold back when he was only with you. it happened only once, but he still feels humiliated about it and hopes you'd never bring it up. he made you swore to never tell anyone.

butch seemed to like you for a reason, only approving of you from the gang. he hated the rest. when you find yourself at their house, he'd warmly greet you.

at first he and patrick made a lot of sexist joke about you. later when he noticed you went silent you, he started using them less, only saying them once or twice.

always offers you cigarettes, and makes sure to buy your favorites.

sometimes (when he's not in a shitty mood) he pays for your food when you go at the diner without saying a word or giving you the chance to convince him otherwise.

all good things considered, let's be honest here cuz we all know he has more negative that good qualities.

for example; gets jealous super easily and gets mad at you for it, making you apologize for something that isn't your fault.

NEVER admits he's wrong. ever.

when you have a different opinion he tells you to shut up or straight up threatens you.

needs a lot of attention, while also can't have on his tail all the time, making him indecisive and confusing.

sometimes doesn't realize you need help and leaves you deal with your problems alone while you clearly do need some sort of hand.

still, you always have a way to be together again, unable to keep any distance between you both. on weekends you usually take the bus to his house, helping him with the choses around the farm.

Vic Criss

you and vic already knew each other from middle school. you were in the same class and he used to help you with homework.

then, when kids started growing up through that phase everybody did about that sort of rivalry against girls and boys. because of that, your 'friendship' fell apart.

you weren't really friends back then but you could've been.

he never admitted it but he always stared at you from away, wishing you would somehow start talking to each other again.

he was the one who convinced henry to approach you that day. the idea popped into his mind just as those rumors started going around.

he was glad henry agreed. even though he always did, he was anxious of saying no. later, he lied to you, saying it was henry's idea instead and that first interaction you had with him was henry's way of being kind (despite calling you a 'whore').

you and vic were close, in a different way you were with the others. he understood you better and he was very good at telling advice. he was also fun gossiping with. definitely the best when having a sleepover. the others found him annoying or bitchy about it, but with you he was himself.

he also was kinda subtle about his true personality, not showing his true small but intresting quirks only you knew.

speaking of gossiping, almost every weekend he crashed at your place, the excuse being his siblings giving him a headache, while his mom being 'a pain in the ass'.

everytime he had a problem with the others you would be the first to know. he was still henry's 'right-man', but sometimes henry was, well... henry.

at parties he'd get wasted and you'd be 100% sure he'd be found in the bathroom pucking his guts out.

you guys are so close he would be showering while you were doing your business at the toilet, gossiping about everything single detail.

still sometimes helps you with school after some persuation, but keeps reminding you that 'he is not your tutor'.

loves braiding your hair when you're hanging out, especially during class when it's something super boring (even for him).

Patrick Hockstetter

you were honestly pretty scared of patrick at first, and most definitely the only one from the gang who gave you the creepes.

the alligations weren't few, to say the least, and at first you kept your distance from him.

he also didn't try to make a move on you, which you found stange, yet grateful. maybe henry threatened him or something. either way you were considerably on good terms with patrick.

one day at school, while you were waiting for the other three to come at your usual spot during break, he offered you a cigarette. you received it with gratitude, since it was rare for an offer coming from patrick. he even stricked up a conversation, which was... maybe a bit thought provoking.

then he smirked – that one charismatic he wore when you would stop being able to read his mind. he was like a puzzle, but most pieces were missing or switched with incorrect ones. "are the rumors true?", he asked, closing his zippo with a 'click' after he light your cigarette.

"i dont think that you care if they're true or not," you answered back, the tobacco filling your lungs with nicotine.

clouds of smoke escaped his nostrils with each chuckle. "maybe."

on your ride home Black Sun Morning by Screaming Trees was playing from the radio and you found yourself singing alongside patrick. he rose his brows, "you know 'em?"

"duh, of course."

the next day on the ride to school, instead of gossiping with vic you ended up having a deep conversation with patrick about music. you never imagined that you'd be having a conversation about art with him of all people.

since then, you hit it off well. he stopped using sexist comments as well, and even attempted physical contact at the diner, brushing his fingers against your hair. when he realized you let him or try to stop him, he smiled to himself.

in the end you were usually seen together, you sitting on his lap during breaks or at the gym stands, in the car or diner. he would wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder. it was making the others sick.

sometimes you attempted to help him with homework, but he only agreed so you could just hangout. he wasn't really interested in attending college. the thing he was good at was certainly playing the guitar. both bass and lead guitar. vic jokes about him making a band but it something told you he didn't view it as a light joke.

one day he invited you to his house to show you his vinyls and discs. that's when you met his mother and was pretty surprised to find out she was vietnamese. he made sure to never speak vietnamese around you or the others.

when meeting you he became less... interested at the fridge at the junkyard, viewing it less and less. maybe therapy was starting to work out? even for a tiny bit.

extremely protective of you, especially at parties. makes sure to keep an eye out even though you wouldn't know it.

Belch Huggins

belch was the most chill and the most independent one of the gang. aways making sure everything was in check and going smoothly. it was no surprise he was super welcome to you and tried to make you at ease the first few weeks, asking you if you were okay or needed a ride home.

is a gentleman, of course. doesn't tolerance any disrespect towards you, no matter how small it may seem to you.

offeres to pay for you when going out, no matter how many times you don't let him.

one time you both got so drunk you couldn't stop laughing; your bellys hurting and your eyes filled with tears while your faces were bright red. it made henry mad (as usual) but it's a memory you'd never forget. you had no way to get back home, though.

on fridays you watch him play basketball, sitting at the stands, and smoking and encouraging him. sometimes vic or patrick came too, but it was very rarely.

he offers you the ball but you immediately decline, being reminded of the day the ball hit you in the face after you missed your shot.

you requested him to teach you how to drive, which was a bad idea honestly. at first you didn't understand his instructions at all, but when he asked you if you had any questions you lied saying 'no'. after that instead of stepping on going forward you accidentally went backwards, almost crashing his beloved trams-am that he named 'daisy'. then you turned the wheel too far, almost falling at a ditch before he saved you two.

swore that you'd never get a license in your life and forbid you anywhere near the wheel, not even the passengers seat.

his dad owes a workshop, fixing cars. he helped too, supporting him in any way he could. you also helped him here and there while he taught you the basics and answered any questions you had.

he promised that he'd let you fix a car entirely on your own without his help. he said he'd also let you keep it for free.

you have a drawer contained only of belch's clothes. at first you'd ask him to try his sweatshirts on. then you'd complain you were cold and he'd sigh, saying you could give it back another day. but you never did.

you loved it when he gave you biggyback rides. his, especially. he could never refuse, despise how tired he was.

[seat-safety-switch]

Every car has at least one job that's a miserable grind. It's just the nature of the beast. They're impossibly complex machines made up of several subsystems that have to get jammed into pretty close to the same physical space. Eventually, some engineer is going to compromise on "can you actually reach this" in order to actually get the thing out the door.

Similarly, every mechanic can name a job in which they lost all hope for the future. German cars, especially, are quite bad for this. They have even more complexity than a normal car, which means they had to find even more silly places to stuff that complexity. Timing chains behind the engine? That's just the tip of the iceberg, and that's part of why your local Audi mechanic charges enough to buy a new car and drinks constantly at work. They had to put that shit somewhere, and it turns out that "in your wallet" worked as good as any other answer.

That's why the junkyard is so freeing. At the junkyard, you can just go get the part you want, even if it means breaking a lot of other parts in the process. The car's already going to get crushed, so who cares if it enters oblivion with all of its major organs cleanly removed?

On your actual car, you really don't want to, say, smash the power steering bottle into a million pieces with a hammer just to get at the pump tensioner, since you'll need it later. At the yard, the only thing keeping you from doing this is your innate decency: will the next person need this part? If so, maybe just Sawzall right through the power steering hose and throw the rest of it in the trunk. They should give you the key to the city, hero.

In fact, with a morbid enough mentality, you can see all the mistakes of the past. One quick entry ticket buys you a morgue's full of auto bodies to dismantle and see just how hard a prospective shitbox is to work on. If it seems easy, you can go get a running example to serve as your next car. It's hard to understand why everyone doesn't do this. Why visit the used car dealership, take test drives, when you could simply gaze into what the car looks like after you've rammed it into a bus while flaming out on meth?