#just saying the same shit in an XD arm slung around your shoulder tone now. dont want me saying Idiot this is why i love ableism

[fanfikfanatik]

DBH Imagine: Bad Driver

While I was driving to work one morning, I realized that I’m not the most passive person on the road, so I wondered how the DPD gang would react to their s/o being a very aggressive driver while they sat in the passenger seat. It was very entertaining to think about, so I came up with this gender neutral imagine xD Enjoy! (I take requests, too! Ask awayyy!)

Connor:

He definitely doesn’t approve of your road rage and found it hard to relax, but he tried not to be too vocal about it since you didn’t really listen to him anyway. Plus, he would know if the danger of crashing was high or low – surprisingly, you appeared to know exactly what you were doing, so he never felt the need to butt in.

Connor doesn’t understand why you let the actions of others on the road affect you so much. You’re never like this outside of the car. He’ll often hold your hand and stroke your skin with his thumb to try to calm you down, and if that fails to work, he’ll run his fingers up the back of your neck and into your hair, petting softly, or giving your neck gentle squeezes to release the stress and tension or bring your focus elsewhere.

That method usually seems to do the trick, but there are days when the rage just cannot be quenched.

Connor: “Slow down, Y/N… you’re above the speed limit.”

You: “Relax, I’m only 5 miles over - that’s legal.”

Connor: “Actually, you’re 21 miles over.”

You: “I’m just trying to get away from–” You laid on your horn, almost ramming into the back of a pickup truck. “Woah! What an asshole! Did you see that!? FUCKING CUNT!”

Connor’s eyes were wide as he flinches away at your hostility, even though it wasn’t directed towards him. He just wants you to be safe and you keep putting yourself (and others) at risk. “Maybe we should listen to some music…” You merely grumbled in response. The music did nothing at all, just adding an unnecessary soundtrack.

Connor grips his thighs with his hands when you accidentally cut off another car in an attempt to avoid colliding with another driver who was weaving dangerously through traffic. They almost smashed into your driver’s side. It was like a racing video game. Connor didn’t particularly care for those when you two played them, but he especially didn’t want to actually live it in real life. He’s driven with you countless times in the past, but he was worried for your safety and your judgement calls because you made a lot of poor choices and were so easily influenced.

When you finally reached your destination, your mood was laughably different now that you arrived and were finally off the road, well away from all those shitty drivers. You smiled joyfully up at him as if you didn’t just treat the open road like a Mario Party racetrack in the middle of a warzone. Connor was calm when he got out of the car and slung his arm around your shoulder as you both began walking. He decided to butter you up a bit, acting especially affectionate and loving. His boldness in PDA was rare, but hey, you weren’t about to complain! He intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed your knuckles.

Connor: “So, how about I drive us from now on?”

Hank:

Boy is Hank nervous and pissy… This is the first time he’s experienced your driving habits and this will be the last.

What if you got into an accident!? God, just the thought of getting a call hearing that you perished in a crash was enough to make his heart wrench in pain. He’s going to give you a serious talking to.

He’s a backseat driver all the way (well, passenger seat driver), which pisses you both off because you want him to shut up and let you drive, but he thinks you’re driving like ass and doesn’t want you to get them both killed.

Hank grips the door handle tightly, muttering curses under his breath and out loud whenever his anxiety becomes overwhelming.

Hank: “Y/N! For fuck’s sake, watch it!”

You: “That asshole cut me off!”

Hank: “So!? Let him pass you! And slow down, I’m about to have a heart attack over here…”

You would tone it down a bit, but god forbid a poor soul failed to use their turning signal, slowing your speed 2 miles under the speed limit. Your rage is rising, you’re trying hard not to crack…

“Y/N…” Hank warns when you start tailgating someone going slower than you would have liked them to. Ugh, he can’t watch anymore. Hank averts his eyes from the road and focuses his gaze down in his lap. “Shit, I’m going to die in here.” He mumbles. A second driver does the exact same thing the last person did, causing you to almost rear end them. You slam your brakes and a loud screech resounds in response. Hank is jerked forward in his seat and sends a death glare your way.

You: “MOTHERFUCKER! I will end you, you piece of shit fucking–”

Hank: “That’s it! Y/N, pull over right now! I’m not kidding, pull this deathtrap over right now in that parking lot!”

You: “NO. Calm down, I got this–”

Hank: “I SAID PULL OVER, GODDAMNIT. Please, I can’t take it anymore. Either you pull over or you let me out right here at this red light.”

In the heat of the moment, you were about to tear him a new ass, but when you looked over and saw the white in his face, the worry and the fear in his tired eyes, your heart softened while you remembered how he lost his son in a car accident. And here you were driving like an adolescent doucher.

All the anger immediately deflates from you. “Okay… okay, I’m sorry, I’ll pull over.” Hank sighs a breath of relief, still  obviously pissed off at you as he crosses his arms and stares straight ahead of him like he wanted to burn a hole through your windshield, “Good.”

When you put the car in park in the parking lot, and before you two switched seats, you were worried that he’d give you the cold shoulder since he didn’t look at you at all and you suddenly felt ashamed of how poorly you drove and how many bad memories you must’ve conjured because of it. “I’m so sorry, Hank,” your voice cracked. Hank didn’t utter a single sound as he got out of the car, with you following suit. You passed by each other while walking around and your hand lingered on the passenger door handle – god, you really were the scum of the earth, weren’t you? How could you drive like that with Hank in the car knowing his history? While you stood there in shame, Hank suddenly slammed the driver’s side shut and stormed back over to you. At first you were scared he was going to yell, so you flinched when he got close to brace yourself throwing yourself at his mercy, but the only thing he did was pull you in for a tight embrace. Your hands gripped at his back as you returned the hug, breathing in his scent and shuddering out a relieved breath. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I won’t do that ever again,” you whispered.

He didn’t let you go for a good minute, but then he gave you a chaste kiss on the temple and waved a finger in your face. “You drive like absolute shit. You’re stuck riding shotgun from now on, you understand me?”

You: “Yes, I promise.” And you sealed it with a kiss.

Gavin:

Gavin drives worse than you do, so he isn’t too affected by it. He actually finds all of your swears hilarious and prefers that you drive since it’s way more entertaining.

At times, he would join in by shouting profanities at the more shitty drivers, flipping them off as you drove past. He didn’t see anything wrong with how you drove on the whole, though.

But sometimes you did cut it a bit close and almost caused an accident; only then will he say something about it and scold you – and pretty harshly, at that.

Gavin: “Are you a fuckin’ idiot? You almost hit that asshole!”

You: “Oh shut up, we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Gavin: “You’re lucky this isn’t my car or you’d be so dead.”

There was this one time you were actually driving like a model citizen which pissed someone off and they proceeded to bait you. Turned out to be a couple of college boys who decided to target you for a sick game: getting in front of you and slowing down to make you slam on your breaks, blocking you in between cars when you tried to pass them, flipping you off when you cursed at them in response; it was enough of a dick move that Gavin was getting more pissed at them than you were. You gave those jerks all the opportunities in the world to leave you in their dust, but they just wouldn’t leave. The jerks actually followed you everywhere you went down every road you turned off of.

The last straw was when they slowed down beside you and kept pace with your car. The two men cursed at you, flipped you the bird, taunted you and called you unflattering names, and going so far as to throw their trash. Gavin had had enough of their shit.

Gavin: “Y/N, roll down the window.”

You: “No way! I don’t want their shit in my car!”

Gavin: “Just do it, roll it down – and lean back for a sec.”

Reluctantly you complied, the men’s shouts now louder with the window open as they swerved dangerously close to hitting you. They continued taunting you with bluffs and threats when Gavin leaned over. “Hey, assholes! Hope you didn’t have any plans tonight!” Gavin smugly called, reaching his arm over you to hold up his police badge for them to see. “Pull over,” he commanded.

It was a moment of delicious, utter glory watching their mouths drop open like gaping fish, relishing the look of sheer fear in their eyes when they realized that they fucked with the wrong car. You were legit shocked they didn’t peel off to escape: the fools actually pulled over at the nearest opening. No doubt they were shitting themselves as they waited for one of you to approach their vehicle to offer them the consequences of their actions.

You parked up right behind them and looked over to Gavin in a combination of surprise and adoration. His shit-eating, triumphant smile at being the badass that he was reignited the blazing love you had for him and you had to admit…. that was pretty hot and he couldn’t have been more attractive to you than he was now. “Have I told you how much I loved you recently?” you asked.

“I dunno, you may need to refresh my memory,” Gavin cooed and leaned in to kiss you quickly but fondly. “But first, I gotta rough up a couple assholes who messed with my lover. Hang tight, okay?”

When Gavin strolled up to their window, showing off his badge and the gun he kept clipped to his hip, you couldn’t suppress your cackle. Those boys were screwed.

Nines:

Childish, that’s what you are. How could someone so dignified, spritely and wonderful behave this way behind the wheel? Nines had no idea what was in store for him when he allowed you to drive. He usually preferred to be the driver, but when you insisted that you’d like to drive your own car for once, he didn’t see any problem with it – it was your car, after all. Nines looked your way dumbfounded.

“What the fuck!? Nice turn signal, you jackass!” You screamed. You looked at Nines to see if he saw what happened. “Did you see that? What a dick! Oh, and there he is again!” You gesture to the vehicle in question exasperated. Nines’s eyes never left you. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing: was this really the same person he fell in love with?

“Why do you drive so recklessly?” he asked.

“Hmm?” You weren’t paying attention to him. You were more focused on the road and all the assholes who occupied it. He didn’t press the matter further, but decided to keep a stern watch on the road. Alerting you whenever you behaved poorly.

You: “Fucker! Go the speed limit!”

Nines: “Do you even know what the speed limit is?”

You: “… of course.”

You didn’t. But you figured going 65mph anywhere wouldn’t hurt anybody… Nines slapped your hand away when you reached for the radio. “Eyes on the road.” He commanded darkly.

“The hell is up with you? They are– oh shit!” Nines grabbed the steering wheel, jerking the car out at harm’s way as the honking commenced behind you.

“Oops?” you giggled innocently. Nines’s cold stare made you slink back in your seat. “Geez, it’s not like we crashed…”

Nines: “Make a left here.”

You: “But we need to turn on 64th Ave.”

Nines: “Turn left here,” he repeated, deliberately emphasizing each word as if you were incompetent. The tone of his voice, however, made you obey without any further question as he continued to give you directions, leading you to a random building. “Park,” he ordered.

“Okay. Now what?” You demanded, now annoyed once you were sitting in front of a random business that had nothing to do with where you two were headed. Nines unbuckled his seatbelt and turned in his seat.

Nines: “Now you unbuckle your seatbelt, get out of the car, and sit yourself down in the passenger seat. I’m driving us.”

You: “Excuse me? You brought us all the way over here just to switch seats?”

Nines: “If I’d have known how badly you drove, I never would have agreed to it in the first place. Get out of the car.”

Um… was he serious? Was he really telling you to get out of your own car? As you defied him, his glare deepened. “No, I don’t think I will,” you placed your hand on the clutch ready to back out but Nines grabbed your hand tightly to stop you. Then before you could react, he pulled you in using that same hand so that his lips landed on yours. He proceeded to kiss you feverishly, unlike he’s ever done in the past, receiving an instant reaction from you because he knew how you couldn’t resist him: your body heated up and melted all at once as you fought to get out of his hold, but failed miserably. Without knowing what was happening, your belt was released with a sharp click, his lips never once leaving yours and you tangled your hands in his hair, then down to his tie to loosen it, he moaned approvingly. He somehow managed to move you both to the back of the car, your blood rushing in anticipation. But before anything further could happen, your hands were swiftly cuffed behind your back and you were strapped securely in the middle seat. “What the?” Disappointment blossomed in you. It was too late to realize that you were just played and he used your own weakness to his advantage: him.

Smirking in satisfaction and straightening up his tie, Nines maneuvered his way back up to the driver’s seat and adjusted the rearview mirror to glance his sly blues eyes to yours as he fixed his hair. “I told you: I’m driving.”