Hellooo, everyone! Welcome to my first fanfic! I really hope all you guys enjoy! Please read and review, no one be sneakin', alright? Besides, if you guys want faster updates, reviews are a big boost in enthusiasm. Also, if you guys want another update, how about... 6 reviews? I don't want this to be a forgotten, terrible reject, but if it is, I would like to know. Spamming the archive isn't something I wanna do.

SO THERE WON'T BE ANOTHER CHAPTER IF 6 REVIEWS IS NOT HIT!

Note: I do not swear, but my oc's and others do to make the story a little more realistic.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Transformers (that would be AWESOME though), I only own my oc's and the plot you don't know about.

Ahem, anyways... (jumps off metaphorical cliff) GERONIMO!

Chapter 1

In Which I See a Huge Ass Truck and Get Saved By Said Truck

...

A sunny day.

That is, what it currently was at this time, hanging in the sky above already roasted Tranquil, Nevada.

It was that type of sunny day where the clouds weren't completely gone, just avoiding the area above your town, wisping by without a single thought, that would be, if they could have thoughts.

It was the kind of day that would give you nostalgia, make you think about the days you would play tag with your parents and swing on the swings in your backyard, laughing at anything and everything.

And I hated it.

Hated it with a passion.

It just wasn't fair, that such a beautiful day could make me feel so guilty about. Absolutely. Nothing.

I was getting shoved and bumped into on my way out of the school by howling, hyperactive guys, excited by the fact there was another party tonight.

It was easy to miss me, only being 5"3 compared to all the other 5"9 girls.

Speaking of girls, they were all somehow weaving their way through the mass of teenagers, while texting rapidly on their phones. How the shit can they do that?

Well I, on the other hand, was completely occupied by trying to find an opening in the giant, hormonal crowd, hoping to finally escape to the weekend.

It had been a long day. Well, longer than usual. I had forgotten to write an English essay and had lost over 5 and a half hours of sleep I needed; there was a pop quiz, too (and I'm pretty sure I failed that), which made my day all the more worse.

By the time I was finally freed, I was only about 3 blocks away from home. I was sitting at the little intersection in the middle of town, waiting for the light to signal a safe cross for me. The setting was the same as always.

Two tiny little cafes (which one of sells great muffins)sit comfortably right next to each other with a dress shop to the left of them on the left corner. A bar and grill called "The Office" to the right of that; currently closed. An antique shop on the right corner, and a tattoo shop behind me; all of which had a second story apartment above them. There was also a diner, 3 pizzerias, a Dunkin Donuts, a subway shop, a hardware store, and at the end, a repair shop. How convenient.

The traffic wasn't to bad either, seeing as it wasn't rush hour yet. The wind from on going vehicles gently shaking the poorly taken care of trees, if that's what you would call them.

There were some runner's, too; preparing for the marathon a month from now.

There were also some cars, which sat alongside the road parked, waiting for their driver's to finish whatever business they had.

Nothing had changed. And yet...

Who the fuck would buy such a big truck?

I mean, really? This thing is fucking MASSIVE. It was taking up almost half the road!

How the chocolate shake did I miss it before? WAS it ever there before?

Tourist's don't seldom come, but it happens. They just don't usually come to this little town surrounded by almost nothing. There's no point really.

I couldn't tell the exact model, not being a car person (but I will say there are some cars that could convince me to be one), but I can say it was a GMC, seeing as it was labeled in big letters across the grill.

The big, black monstrosity was settled (albeit, sightly cramped) behind a small, red Fiat.

And the scene was truly hilarious.

If cars could have facial expressions, this truck would look ready to murder someone.

I chuckled aloud.

The light finally turned green, and I began my short trek across the street, still lost in my thoughts. A little too lost.

The screeching of tires and the cries of sirens filled my hearing, shaking me from stupor, but it was too late to react.

I whipped my head around to see a car veering around the corner UNUSALLY fast.

"Oh, fu..."

My instincts (and common sense) took over and I jumped, tucking my knees as far as I could into my chest. I'd rather roll over a car and land hard on the pavement than break my legs, not doing anything.

I clenched my eyes closed, expecting to feel the hood of the car against my back or windshield break beneath me.

But it never came.

Instead, a strange noise inundated my hearing, replacing everything but my own rapidly beating heart. It sounded like a... sparkler? Whatever it was, it stopped shortly after wards something even stranger happened.

Strong arms grabbed my curled form; one arm slipping around my shoulder, the other around my waist, tucking me into an EXTREMELY well built chest.

Really, Beth? Really, you could have DIED, and that's what you're thinking about? Jeez...

Wind blew past my face, tangling my already unbrushed hair in front of my face. Wow, that's fast.

My back was gently placed upon the pavement, dirty blonde hair pooling around my head, when I assumed we were out of harms way.

The strange hands were removed from me and placed on the pavement next to their original positions.

I peeked open one eye, not at all expecting what I saw.

Blue eyes. The bluest to ever blue. I am NOT kidding. They were a deep, dark blue; as if it was the depths of the sea itself. Is that even humanly possible?

And that was the first thing I noticed.

And holy vanilla was this guy handsome.

His hair was black, not very long, and it was slightly ruffled (probably from the wind), but the look suited him. He looked within his late twenties and his features were fair, even and at the same time rough. Military. It has to be.

He grunted and stood up.

He was tall, about 6"2 and really well built. His outfit consisted of a black shirt, with a black leather jacket over it; he also had dark blue jeans on over a black pair combat boots. Not very into colors, are ya? Not that I mind... SHUT UP!

He offered a hand but I refused. No way was I gonna let my hormones get anymore out of hand.

I pushed myself off the ground. All the sounds came rushing back. Police sirens could still be heard alongside shouts and extravagant curses.

"Next time be more cautious of your surroundings."

Douchebag discovered. Damn, I should've known there'd be a catch.

And that voice... holy crap, it sent shivers down my spine. That never happens. It was an evenly mixed concoction between an American accent and British accent. It was deep, too. And that's another weakness of mine... Awww, crap.

But before I knew it, I had vocalized my own words

"Well, I hope that you are aware of the fact that that car was speeding. There is no CONCIEVIBLE way I would have been fast enough too avoid it. MAYBE you could, but I CAN'T." An amused glint appeared in those pools. Why is he being sooo... obliging? Noo, casual? No... Why can't I put my finger on it?

"Is that any way to treat your savior?" Oh, you have no idea... wait, NO, NO. BAD BETH! BAD!

Thankfully, I had a retort in mind.

"Savior? You saved me from some cuts, bruises and a sore back." Awww... fuck me, he's smirking.

No Bethany, NO. You just met him! And don't fuck me.

And since when was I so confident?

He looked at me expectantly, as if he was waiting for some sort of apology.

Sorry to disappoint you dude, but that is not happening.

I take a deep breath and sigh, tilting my head to the right, looking down the road. Is he still looking at me? He's still looking at me...

"Thank you..." I turned my head back around and he was gone.

Well... that was cliché as FUCK.

Like something straight out of Twilight. Unfortunately.

"Well," I mutter "better get home..." walking away from the scene, not at all paying attention to the warmth emanating from the sizable beast as I passed by.

"Bets! Bets?..." 3 hours, that's how long it's been..."BETHANY!"

"Oh, CHOCOLATE FUDGE!" I whipped around too see who had assaulted my poor eardrums. Damnit, Annie...

"You can turn off your swear filter, you know that right? Mrs. Rosette isn't around." Her footsteps were quiet on the tile as she came closer and wrapped her arms around my shoulders leisurely.

"Yeah, but you are. Shouldn't you be doing your homework?"3 hours since I started my homework at the kitchen countertop. Why do older kids get more homework? We have more responsibilities to take care of other than homework.

Her golden blonde hair fell over her shoulder, falling on mine as well.

The contrast was very noticeable. While her's was straight, bright and only a shade darker than a true blonde's; mine was wavy (from not brushing it) and only a shade brighter than a true brunette.

Our eyes were a different matter. We both had hazel eyes.

"I finished it an hour ago. I just wanted to finish my drawing. Do you still have homework to do?"

"Nah, I'm just staring at random pieces of paper," I sassed back. "Yes, I do. And I'm almost done. Why?"

"I wanna watch Netflix. Also, Mrs. Rosette is makin' meatloaf tonight." Ahh, that's why.

Mrs. Rosette is our caretaker/ maid, though more of a mother figure than anything else.

She was the one who made sure we did our wretched homework; the one who made sure we brushed our teeth before bed; the one who came to our soccer games. The one who cared for us and wiped our tears away when we missed mommy and daddy.

She's the one who looked after me and my 14 year old sister, Annalyn; since our parents left for their 'vacation'. 6 years ago.

The crazy, neatfreak Latina; who was dreadful at cooking, taking care of rebel 11 year old and a clueless 9 year old.

And she did. She did it perfectly.

"So you want Mac n' Cheese?"

"I want Mac n' Cheese," she reaffirmed.

"Annie wants Mac n' Cheese. Got it. Just let me finish first."

"Okay. Call me when you're done," she requested. She turned around and headed back upstairs to her room, to text her friends, most likely.

I looked down back at my paper, which was filled to the brim with scribbles and erased answers. I know the answer to this right off the top of my head. My school really is full of idiots. Not excluding the teachers.

I picked up the dulling #2 pencil, and began to write.

And then my pencil broke.

"Shit," I murmured, looking at the faulty writing tool, "There goes another pencil." Tossing the now broken pencil away, I got up to grab another.

"BETHANY MIRANDA LEERAN! WHAT DID I SAY? WHAT DID I SAY?!" I froze. CRAAAPPP...

"To not swear in the house," I replied briskly, hoping to somehow avoid the tempest's wrath.

I didn't succeed.

The, tall, skinny, frizzy dark haired woman stormed through the door and around the corner. Her face was twisted in an angry grimace, upset with what I had said.

"Yes," she said venomously, "And if you don't listen, I'll warm your bum with the wooden spoon. Do you understand?" Her accent was thick, but it was still simple to understand her.

"Yes, Mrs. Rosette. I understand."

"Good. Now, I overheard something about Mac n' Cheese?"She questioned. Her face immediately relaxed back into it's usual, smiling face. Wow, that was fast...

"Yeah, I promised Annie I would make some."

She took a deep breath and sighed.

"I suppose you shouldn't break your promise, then," she sighed again, "So come along now, hurry up. I'll start boiling the water for you." She grabbed a pot from under the island counter, filled it up with water. She then proceeded to place it on the stove and turn on the burner. Her back was to me.

"So did anything interesting happen today at school, novia?" Sweetheart. That's always been her nickname for us.

"Same old, same old. Had a pop quiz today, but that's about it." She turned and walked around the table' heels clicking against the cold tile, and sat next to me.

"Really?" she inquired, "Nothing?"

"Yep." I responded. Nothing.

Nothing at all...

Welp... that's the end of the first chapter. I hope you all enjoyed Bethany so far. All of my oc's (well, the ones I have so far) relate to me in some shape or form. I know not much has happened, but I did that on purpose; to make you curious and come back for more. :-b It's strategy, I tell you, STRATEGY!

If you have any writing tips, they will be gladly accepted. RUDE COMMENTS WILL NOT BE GLADLY ACCEPTED. IF YOU DON' T LIKE IT DON'T READ IT! Simple as that.

POLL: There is a poll on my profile page. I want to see if people want: a relationship where Beth is unaware of Cybertronians and holoforms, a relationship where she is aware of Cybertronians and the fact Ironhide is one; but not of holoforms and the fact that Ironhide has one, or a relationship where she is aware of both Cybertronians and holoforms; and the fact the Ironhide has one and is a Cybertronian.

Please vote! This is detrimental to the plot of the story!

I do not have a beta reader, so if you're bored and a beta, PM me please.

DON'T FORGET TO READ AND REVIEW!

~Adamas out.