#those two cops could call me a slur and id laugh with them but if mcqueen and yulie dulies even came near me

[klugpuuo]

i fucking hate the darkside detective so fucking bad ohhh h mm y ygod

[fanfictiondotmess]

The pulsating sound of music made conversation hard, but Kaito had decided to relent and take a seat at a booth with the reluctant soon-to-be detective who had finally agreed to come out to a club. It’s important for a man to get out and de-stress once in a while, and though a good workout was the best for that, dancing was another way to shake off the pressure of the daily grind. Hopefully Shuichi would learn that sooner rather than later.

“So! Pretty cool, huh?” Kaito asked dropping on to one of the cushy seats of the booth. With a laugh drowned out by music, Shuichi sat on the other side. “What? What’re you laughing at?” He asked, raising a hand to signal to a server that the two were ready for a drink.

“Nothing.” Shuichi shook his head and looked back out toward the dance floor.

“You’re making fun of my dancing, aren’t you?” Kaito asked, shrugging in a self-admitted defeat. “Can’t be perfect at everything, but a real man can admit that and still have fun. Remember that.” He sat back in his seat, still grinning.

“Right, Kaito.” Shuichi agreed. There was a small lull in music as one DJ passed it off to the other and some generic- but probably quite popular by club standards- song played while the new guy set up some equipment that the other DJ hadn’t had. Perfect timing for the server to swing by.

“What can I get for you boys?” A middle-aged woman asked. She had a warm smile despite the bags under her eyes.

“We’ll have whiskey. Straight.” Kaito answered immediately.

“He’ll have whiskey. I’ll have a blue Hawaiian.” Shuichi interjected, earning a laugh from the server. She scribbled something down on her notepad and leaned in a bit, checking to make sure that both were wearing wristbands for those old enough to drink. She gave a nod of approval.

“Our kitchen will be closing soon. This’ll be your last chance to order something to eat.”

“Thanks! I’d hate if my sidekick here missed out on the fries here. Two orders!” Kaito exclaimed. The server continued to smile as she looked to Shuichi, giving him a cue to speak his order if he wanted one. He gave a smile in response.

“Alright then. It’ll be out in a minute.”

—-

“Hahaha! Your face!” Kaito doubled over, nearly hitting his head on the table as he laughed.

“Ugh! How can you drink this stuff?” Shuichi asked, fanning himself with his hands. His face was scrunched up in disgust.

“Really puts the hair on your chest, huh?” Kaito accented his statement by downing the rest of the drink. The two had been talking in shouts for well over an hour, conversation becoming more animated with every drink.

“You said you’d try it.” Shuichi said, pushing a blue drink across the table.

“Alright alright. You-“ Kaito stopped in mid-sentence when he felt someone grab his shoulder and shake him. It wasn’t hard or violent or anything. Just unexpected.

“Hey. I’m dizzy.” An unfamiliar voice slurred. As Kaito turned, a small person climbed on to his lap, wrapped an arm around one shoulder, and let his almost limp body fall with a full weight against him.

“Uhh...”

“What the...?” Kaito pushed his back against the booth, trying to put some space between himself and the purple-haired stranger. It didn’t accomplish much.

“Is this your friend, Kaito?” Shuichi asked, eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

“I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Kaito glanced toward the dance floor for any hint of an identity. Needless to say, the mass of people bobbing and swaying didn’t give him much to go off of. To his relief, a group of three men approached after not too long.

“That’s our friend. Can’t handle his liquor for shit.” A man with uneven patches of facial hair explained. “I’ll take him off your hands.”

“Thanks-“

“What’s his name?” Shuichi asked, putting a hand out quickly to stop the advance of the man. Kaito and the man both looked at Shuichi.

“I don’t think that’s really important right now, Shuichi.” Kaito said.

“Yeah.” The man agreed with haste.

“It is. What is his name?” Shuichi asked again. “Give me his wallet.” He asked, rising from his seat.

“Alright.” Kaito said, uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Uhhh, Kazuki.” One of the other three spoke. The third remain silent, crossing his arms over his chest in a sign of hostility.

“Come on. You can give me your number and I’ll have him call you if you’re that interested. We need to get going.” The first man spoke and took a step closer. This time, Shuichi put himself entirely between himself and the other three.

“That’s not his name.” Shuichi stated.

“What’s up, man?” Kaito asked, ready to be rid of the strange trio and the obviously intoxicated fourth.

“Don’t you find it strange that they’d have spent the entire night with him but don’t know his name?” Shuichi explained.

“We’re newly acquainted. We met last week. I probably wrote his name down wrong when he gave me his number. Clubs are loud.” The second man explained, not missing a beat.

“Alright. Then call him. Call his phone.” Shuichi ordered. By then, Kaito had gotten wind of what was going on. He wrapped one arm around the male, protecting him from being grabbed away and freed his other arm, ready to jump to his feet on the drop of a dime.

“This is stupid. Just hand him over. It’s late.” The first man spoke while Shuichi and the second man stared each other down.

“Yeah? Then all three of you hand me your ID’s right now.” Kaito demanded.

“Fine.” The second spoke. The three all started pulling out their ID’s when a female voice interrupted.

“Are you all together?” The server from earlier asked.

“No.” Kaito and Shuichi answered in unison.

“Butt out, lady.” The third man said, his voice just as hostile as his demeanor. The woman seemed unbothered, almost like she hadn’t even heard the man speak.

“Excuse me, but did he come with these three?” Shuichi asked.

“Hm? Oh no. He’s here all the time, but these three just arrived. Is there a problem?” She asked.

“No.” The third man spoke. “We’re leaving. You fags can-“

“Hey! We don’t tolerate that kind of language here.” The server spoke over the remainder of the man’s sentence. The group retreated hastily with the server on their heels.

“Good call, bro.” Kaito complimented Shuichi as he returned to his seat. “Man! That was so cool! You didn’t even waver!”

“My hands are shaking.” Shuichi admitted and held his hands out as proof.

“That’s even cooler. You were scared but stuck to your guns. Looks like I’m rubbing off on you!” Kaito said, relaxing into his seat. Shuichi scratched the back of his head and cast his gaze to the side, a look of embarrassment clear on his face.

“Anyway, what are we going to do about him?” Shuichi asked, gesturing to the still unconscious male.

“Maybe the waitress can take him- nah. I’m not gonna push anything else off on her. She got rid of those guys for us already.”

“True.”

“Not that we needed her help. We could’ve taken ‘em down with our hands tied behind our backs!”

“Whatever you say, Kaito.” Shuichi put a hand to his face, not caring to dispute the other on this. For all he knew, he’d find the guys in the parking lot and challenge them to a three-on-one fight just to prove himself. He didn’t even need to be drunk to do that. “Ah...”

“What’s up?”

“If they are waiting out front...”

“Not a problem!”

“No, it probably would be a problem. After all, we don’t know if they’re armed.” Shuichi reached out for his drink, but paused and pulled his hand back having decided against putting anything else in his body that might come to hold him back later that night.

“There’s a back entrance. I’m sure the waitress’s let us use it. It’s employees only and there’s a cop monitoring the lot.”

“What? Why do you know that?” Shuichi asked.

“Oh yeah! I never got to tell you. This one time there was this guy causing problems. You know, refusing to leave this girl alone. So I kicked his ass. But then his buddies came in. I was ready to go! But then the cops showed up. They couldn’t arrest anyone, but they said I should probably leave through the back when I did so that I wouldn’t get jumped if anyone was waitin’ up on me. I couldn’t convince ‘em otherwise, so I had to.”

“That’s a pretty impressive tale.”

“Yeah. It was cooler in person. It felt like an action movie. And with the music-“

“Hey. You’re loud.” The purple-haired male interrupted, lifting his head a little bit. His eyes were as purple as his hair. “It’s annoying.” He mumbled before closing his eyes and resting his head against Kaito’s chest.

“Hey! I just saved your ass! You could be a little more... ugh. He’s asleep again.” Kaito shook him a few times, but to no avail. “What a brat.”

“What did he say?” Shuichi asked, leaned across the table. He’d been too far away to hear him over the noise of the club.

“He said I’m annoying then fell back asleep.” He answered, his voice bitter. Shuichi stifled a laugh. Before either had a chance to say more, the server returned.

“Hey, boys. Thanks for looking after him. He’s a bit of a troublemaker, but I’d hate to see anything happen to him.”

“Do you know him?” Shuichi asked.

”Well, not really. Every time I talk to him, he tells a different story about where he’s from or what his job is.” She looked the male over and sighed. “It might be best if you leave through the back tonight. Just in case.” And though she had not told them it was time to leave, both understood the hint well enough.

“Gotcha. Let’s go, punk. You’re coming with us tonight.”

“Us?” Shuichi asked.

“You don’t think I’m gonna let my sidekick go off on his own with those three losers prowling around, do you?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t.”

“Hell no!”

“Sidekick? I didn’t realize you were a superhero and an astronaut.” The server said, her smile back on her face.

“Ha! I can do it all.” Kaito exclaimed. He readied himself to stand, bracing himself a bit for the struggle of carrying an entire human being along with him, and stood. “Man. I’ve carried sacks of potatoes heavier than you.” Kaito spoke to the unconscious male. “What’s his name anyway, Shuichi?”

“Kokichi.”

“Huh, Kokichi. Well, I sure as hell hope this is the last time I have to deal with you.”

[thepersephonecabin]

Questions of Faith (fic)

Short daisy/basira fic about daisy stepping in when some Islamophobes in the station have something to say to basira.

Just as a heads up, I’m not a Muslim, so I’d love input from Muslims about Basira’s characterization and how Islamophobia is dealt with in this fic!

Check out full list of warnings and notes on AO3

The Hunt was the only religion Daisy had ever known, even before she’d known it had a name.

But that didn’t mean she had never had a crisis of faith.

Being a gay cop, even after the Thatcher era, was never easy. Turns out, that even if you did replace the bastards who led the witchhunts and raids on gay bars and BDSM clubs back in the day, it didn’t erase centuries of systemic oppression, no matter how hard you tried.

Believe it or not, Daisy first joined the force for that exact reason. To take out the trash.

She’d gotten the idea in the late 90s. She was sixteen at the time, and had snuck into a local gay bar with a fake ID. It was her first interaction with the gay community, the first time she’d tasted beer. She was so naive back then, a baby butch with a fresh boycut and leather jacket she wasn’t allowed to wear with her school uniform. Not that that had ever stopped her. In truth, she was rather proud of herself when the school’s nuns ripped her a new one for donning it over her green plaid skirt and white blouse, even if the traditional sweater was cozier.

 She’d always been a bit of an agitator, just like her Dad, a staunch Welsh nationalist. So she did the things most “bad” kids did. Listened to loud music, snuck smokes outside the school gates, kissed girls she shouldn’t. Mum and Dad didn’t like that last one one bit.

 But she did it anyway. Really, going to the bar was just the next phase of her teenage rebellion. She was pretty excited about it, too. At least until the butch bartender caught onto the fact that she was underage. That bartender was about halfway through manhandling her out the door saying, “Look, kid, it's nothing personal. It's just sometimes things go down in places like this that a kid shouldn't be here to se-"

 Daisy was about to tell her to take a goddamn hike and that she'd seen plenty of things no one her age should've seen anyhow, thank you very much, when a whole squadron of police officers burst in and chaos erupted.

 Long story short, an hour later, Daisy was sitting in the police station wearing a pair of handcuffs surrounded by a dozen or so drag queens and kings, men in leather, and assorted other characters from the club- the bartender, a young lesbian couple barely older than her who looked scared shitless, leaning on each other for support as much as their restraints would allow. The police were responding to an “anonymous tip” about a drug deal in progress, but from the looks on the faces of the others who were taken to the station with her, it seemed that this an excuse they’d heard many times over.

 They were booked one by one, but it seemed that she was the only one shepherded into the captain’s office after fingerprinting.

 The chief- Reynolds, collar number PC2729 according to his uniform and badge- was a white man with grey hair and facial hair that was still a tad brown in some places. He had smile lines and crow’s feet, and for some reason that made her angrier than anything else did.

 He gave her a smile as she was pushed into the room and onto a cold, metal chair in front of Reynolds’ desk. Daisy sneered at the officer that had brought her in, pulling her arm from the woman’s iron grip with a little more force than necessary simply for the sake of being contrarian. Reynolds’ smile widened.

 As the door shut behind the female officer, leaving Daisy alone with Officer Reynolds, the man cleared his throat and said, “Alice Tonner, sixteen years old, no priors. Booked on possession of a false driver’s license, underage alcohol consumption, resisting arrest, and assaulting an officer. Normally, for someone your age, a first-time offender, I would simply confiscate that fake ID, call your parents, and let them handle it.”

 “But?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

 “But, assaulting an officer is a very serious charge, Alice. According to the briefing my officers gave me, you struck one officer in the face, elbowed and kicked several others until you were tackled. It makes me wonder if this is truly your first time getting into things you shouldn’t, or if you are simply a repeat offender who hasn’t been caught until now,” Reynolds said.

 “Don’t see how it’s your business anyhow,” she challenged. “Maybe I have done something like this before and maybe I haven’t. If your subordinates can’t do their jobs and stop crime, that sounds like your problem, not mine. And if your subordinates didn’t assault innocent civilians in that club first, I don’t think that I would have had to defend myself against them.”

 “When criminals pose a significant threat, it is sometimes necessary to use appropriate force to subdue them,” Reynolds said calmly, and still smiling. “It’s simply every officer’s duty to enforce the law.”

 “Sure,” Daisy laughed, shifting forward in her chair. “Enforcing a tip from an ‘anonymous do-gooder?’ I don’t think so. Dispatch records and calls to the authorities are public record, after all. Charge me if you want, but the first thing I’m doing if you do is calling my father’s attorney and submitting a FOI request. Do you really want to pretend that I’ll find a call from some worried mum that would justify- what did you call it? Appropriate force?” Maybe having a nationalist parent wasn’t so bad after all. At least it taught her her rights.

 Reynolds wasn’t smiling now. “How does a nice little girl like you get wrapped up in a place like that anyway? If you’re so concerned with the quality of policing in your-” he made a face, “      community    , maybe you should try our jobs and see just how easy it is, Alice.”

 Daisy saw red. “My name is Daisy, actually, and if you knew anything about me at all, you’d know this little girl isn’t so nice,” she snarled. “Thanks for the tip, 2729. Maybe I will try your job, and maybe when I do I’ll come for criminals in higher places. Like this office, for instance.” She took a minute to appraise the room exaggeratedly. “Nice trophies.”

 Officer Reynolds stared her down for a moment. Daisy didn’t know what he saw, but whatever it was, the next thing he did was call the female officer back in and say, “Officer Nicholson? Take Miss Tonner up front and telephone her parents to pick her up. She’s free to go.”

 Officer Nicholson wasn’t exactly pleased with the decision to let someone who had struck several of her fellow officers only an hour ago free without even being formally charged, but in the end it wasn’t her call. Daisy was released to her parents with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and a stern warning noted in her permanent record. All things considered, if mouthing off was all it took to get out of an arrest, it made a little more sense now why Calvin Benchley had gotten away with everything for so long.

 Two years later when she appeared for her police academy interview, and the officer in charge asked why she wanted to be an officer, she remembered Reynolds, and his too-wide smile and his crow’s feet. She was coming for him. Maybe not even him, maybe just the very idea of him.

 At first, it was tough. The other officers made no secret as to how they felt about a dyke like her in their ranks, but Daisy was more ruthless than any of them could hope to be. She closed more cases, by any means necessary and left those impotent, rent-a-cop, busybodies in her dust. When she got sectioned, it almost seemed like the natural next step for a person like her, but now she had scarier suspects to go after.

 Years passed, vampires burned, and Daisy never really considered that along the way she might have started to become the same type of monster she joined up to stop. By the time a new officer fell into her precinct, the homophobic pricks that had fueled her for so long were afraid of her. They were at least smart enough to keep their slurs to the locker room. Whenever she did catch wind of them running their mouths, she made sure to give them a scare, and she reveled in the way they fled with their tails between their legs. Or she did, at least for a little while, but soon, it felt like it wasn’t enough. It was getting boring.

 The new officer, Basira Hussain, was a new sort of breed, she thought. They didn’t know each other well at first, since at first, Basira wasn’t sectioned like her, but Daisy liked Basira. She liked the way her name rolled off her tongue-      Ba-si-ra    , she would whisper to herself in the comfortable isolation of her own darkened rooms at night, just to taste the shape of the syllables. But most of all, Daisy was surprised to find that she liked the way Basira wasn’t afraid of her. It was refreshing, she thought, to finally have someone around with a backbone.

 When she wasn’t tracking, interrogating, or disposing of suspects, Daisy dedicated her time at the office to dissecting Basira’s movements and habits. It gave her an excuse to ignore the paperwork.

 Unlike her, Basira likes paperwork. Once when Basira was happily depositing reports in the proper outbox, she caught Daisy staring and demanded in a teasing voice, “What? Unlike you, some of us actually complete our reports, and even enjoy getting work done. Shocking for you, I’m sure.”

     She’s been watching me, too    , Daisy thought with a delightful thrill. Daisy plastered on a playful smirk, and stretched her arms over her head, catlike and languid. “What’s that old saying? Something about working hard or hardly working?”

 Basira rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Mock me if you want, Tonner, but I don’t mind the tedium of it. It feels nice, to be able to mindlessly do a task and check it off your to-do list.”

     How adorable    , Daisy thought.      How positively quaint.    “I suppose I can understand that. But if you ask me, desk duty’s a waste of your talents. Also, you can call me Daisy.”

 Basira raised one perfect eyebrow at her, “And what talents are those,      Daisy    ?”

 Daisy shrugged noncommittally, hoping it wasn’t entirely too obvious how something deep inside her purred at Basira saying her name like that. “Well, you don’t seem to mind me being around, so I assume that means you’ve got balls. Someone like that should be out there,” she jerked her chin at the window, “handling the real police work. Not stuck inside.”

 “Filing reports is just as important to our job as handcuffing people,” Basira retorted. “Otherwise, how would we account for everything, and make sure we’re not taking advantage of our authority.”

 “And do you think everyone is truthful on those reports?” Daisy asked, leaning forward on her elbows, the way she did in interrogation rooms.

 Basira was silent for a long time, appraising her, and finally she said, “You’re strange, Daisy Tonner.”

 Daisy wasn’t sure she knew what that meant, but she categorized it as a win and moved on.

 After that, Daisy and Basira were a bit closer, trading playful conversation whenever Daisy was actually in the office. It was strange, how Daisy was usually itching to go out on assignment, always ready for a stakeout, but now, she actually missed the opportunity to sit at her desk across from Basira for a while.

 One day, she came into the office to find Basira crouched behind Daisy’s desk, facing the wall. She was rolling out what looked like a small rug, and tensed when she realized Daisy was standing there, watching.

 “Sorry,” Basira blushed. “I just need a place to pray. I usually do it here since the position is right and you’re usually out. I can find somewhere else, if you like.”

 Daisy blinked, feeling dumbfounded, “No, no, it’s fine. Carry on. I’ll be quiet.”

 As she slid into her chair, and heard Basira shifting, and then begin muttering to herself softly carrying a quiet harmony, Daisy pondered this.

 Daisy had never really spent much extended time around Muslims before Basira. She knew Islam was the second most common religion in Wales, but her community had been predominantly Christian. In London, of course, things were a lot more multicultural, with a high population of immigrants and asylum-seekers. But still, she’d never found herself thinking that much about it.

 Suddenly, she felt overwhelmed by how much she really didn’t know about Islam, and she was a bit discomfited by it. She didn’t like feeling like she was fumbling around something, and she liked the knowledge that she’d spent a few months sitting across from Basira without giving any thought to her culture even less. Now she was sitting on her desk flipping through a folder and not taking in any of the information, just to stop herself from Googling stupidly obvious questions about Islam while Basira was right behind her.

 Unluckily, she didn’t have much time to stew in this, because some of the other officers, Shadley and Packwell, her mind helpfully supplied, began stalking toward them with intent.

 Daisy looked up from the file, brows furrowed, glare on, but Shadley and Packwell didn’t notice her at all, their gaze was decidedly fixed on Basira. A quick glance told Daisy that Basira was tuned out, still in the motions of raising and lowering her body to the ground in prayer. Daisy whipped an arm out, and moved to stand, to prevent the other officers from interfering, but she was a second too late, and Shadley pushed right by to stand inches behind Basira.

 “Hussain, get back to work,” he ordered loudly. The whole room had to have heard him, but horrified, Daisy looked around, and everyone- every single person but her- was ignoring it, steadfastly going about their business with their heads down.

 Basira’s brows furrowed, but otherwise, she made no sign of having heard Shadley. Clearly, she was used to this.

 “Did you hear me, officer? Someone’s got to go over these traffic reports.”

 “Step off, Shadley,” Daisy growled, fists clenched. “She isn’t bothering anyone. Go do your own damn reports.”

 “She’s bothering me,” Shadley retorted.

 “And me,” Packwell pitched in.

 “I’m warning you,” Daisy told them, doing her best to shoulder her way between them and Basira. “Walk away.”

 “Or what, Daisy dyke?” Packwell asked. “Got yourself a little girlfriend?”

 Daisy ignored that. This wasn’t about her. It was about keeping Basira safe.

 But then quick as a flash, when her eyes were on Packwell, Shadley reached down, put his hand on the headscarf Basira wore, and      yanked    .

 Red flooded Daisy’s vision, and distantly she heard Basira make a surprised, pained grunt. Daisy’s body was on autopilot as one hand reached over, grabbed her leather jacket off her seat and tossed it at Basira, and her leg kicked out and smashed into Shadley’s shin hard.

 Shadley howled with pain, but Daisy didn’t give him time to recover. She wrapped her hands around his collar and threw him up against a file cabinet with an audible bang. A dispatcher manual toppled from the top of the cabinet from the impact, but Daisy didn’t hear it over the almost inhuman growl that ripped through her throat.

 “Don’t fucking touch her,” Daisy snarled, putting her nose right up to his, “or the next time I swear to everything, I’ll rip you limb from limb, do you hear me? Do you hear me?”

 Shadley whimpered, pathetic, and nodded. He was shaking. She liked that.

 “I don’t want either of you to say a word to her unless it’s specifically related to a case. If I catch you so much as looking at her with ill-intent, you’ll regret it. Now get out of my fucking sight.”

 She pushed him with all her might at Packwell so that they collided and toppled to the floor messily. They both scrambled to their feet and got away as fast as they could. The other people in the room hastened to look away, pretending as if nothing happened once again.

 Daisy was still seething, sneering at the place Packwell and Shadley had vacated. She wanted to hit something, she wanted to      kill    something.

 Then, as suddenly as they came, the thoughts dissipated as she felt a gentle but firm hand on her shoulder, and heard Basira say, “Daisy.”

 Daisy let the tension in her shoulder release, and foggy through the adrenaline, she turned to look at Basira’s stern face, her hijab readjusted so it looked as if it had never been out of place at all.

 “It’s alright,” Basira said. “I can handle myself.”

 “I…” Daisy began, and then blinked a few times to clear her head. Shame began to creep in. She hadn’t meant to overstep her boundaries. “I know you can, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made such a scene.”

 There was something unreadable in Basira’s eyes, but her mouth twitched, and she said. “It’s alright. It’s good to know you’re looking out for me. But maybe next time, don’t assault another officer in the middle of a police station with everyone watching, yeah?” She pressed Daisy’s leather jacket into her hands. “Thanks for letting me use this, by the way.”

 Daisy was too stunned to make heads or tails of how quickly the mood had shifted, and soon Basira had gathered up her prayer mat, and had returned to her own desk, quick as you please.

 The next day, when it was time for Dhuhr (Daisy had spent some time that night looking up the proper times for prayer throughout the day), Basira gave her a nod as she walked around Daisy’s desk and rolled out her mat. This time, Daisy stood once she was through, and made herself a physical curtain between her desk and the file cabinet, so no one would get through. She idly looked over and ticked boxes on the report she’d been working on before Dhuhr started, but mostly she just stood, feet shoulder width apart so she was ready to protect if anyone tried anything, throwing looks at anyone who passed by.

 When she was finished and had rolled up her mat, Basira asked, “What are you doing now?”

 Daisy tried to sound playful, but also a little submissive as she spoke, wanting to show Basira that she would listen, if Basira told her to stop. “Doing my paperwork as you’ve so frequently recommended, Basira, dear, and stretching my legs of course.”

 “I see,” Basira said, quirking a smile. “And the timing of your leg stretching wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with yesterday, would it?”

 “Of course not,” Daisy said with mock surprise. “Not everything is about you, you know.”

 Basira rolled her eyes and snorted, “Sure, it’s not. Whatever, see you again at afternoon prayer.”

 “Looking forward to it.”

 From then on, during all their time at the Met, whenever it came time for Dhuhr, Asr, Maghrib, and oftentimes even Isha, because Basira so frequently worked late, Daisy stood watch, and they never had any incidents like the one with Shadley and Packwell again. Basira often rolled her eyes at Daisy’s “guard dog” nature as she called it, but never objected to it. Daisy knew she was being overprotective, and territorial, but as long as Basira was safe and happy, it didn’t matter.

 No, Daisy Tonner had never known a religion but the Hunt, but she was beginning to think whatever she had with Basira could be one.

[rainbhrts94writes]

Honey

Wrote this for a friend of a friend! I hope it brightens your day!

Jooheon x Reader

Warnings: teeny tiny baby angst, alcohol, its so sweet your teeth may rot. 

Honey

You had spent the better part of the evening getting ready; it wasn’t every day Jooheon was in town, and you wanted to make sure you looked good. Sure, you’d know him forever, being friends with his sister and all, but that just meant looking on point was even more critical. You did not need to get made fun of at the bar again, especially by someone as good looking as Joo.

After nearly two hours of ransacking your closet, you had decided on something simple. The winning number was a pair of light wash denim jeans, an oversized black knit sweater, your favorite pair of keds, and the most fun hoop earrings you owned. 

With a spring in your step, you headed out of the house towards the uber waiting for you. You smiled and greeted the woman as you carefully tucked yourself into the back of the car and buckle your seatbelt. It wasn’t a long drive, you could honestly have walked there, but just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. 

Upon arrival, you gave yourself a quick once over in the bar window, fixing your hair and lipstick before you headed for the door. This was your favorite spot in town, the music was never too loud, the drinks were just potent enough, and when the weather was nice, you could sit out back on the swings under the stars and string lights. 

Standing on your toes you scanned the crowd, Jooheon had sent you a message about ten minutes ago saying he’d gotten a seat. It was dimples for days when you finally made eye contact, doing everything in your power not to wave like an excited thirteen year old and run over. You had to play it sort of cool right? Though you may have jogged a little bit, if anyone asks, you’d tell them you were just enjoying the beat to whatever song was playing. 

“Long time, no see!” You exclaimed, parking yourself on the stool beside Jooheon. 

“Who’s fault is that?” His face was indignant as he smiled and leaned closer. 

“Yours.” You poked his shoulder, ignoring the heat you felt rushing to your cheeks, “Totally yours, Mr., I live in a totally different country and never have time to see my friends.”

“I see my friends all the time.” Joo shrugged, and you balked, doing your best to stifle the laughter that threatened to bubble up. 

“Are you saying we’re not friends?” Your hand flew to your chest in mock offense as you continued. “And here I was ready to buy you a drink.”

“You were going to buy me a drink?” His eyebrows raised and you ignored the little flip your heart did. “That’s nice of you, noona, but I think I should be treating you.”

“Noona!? You’ve never called me that before.” You felt your eyes close as you leaned into your laugh. “Does this mean I’ve finally earned respect as your elder!”

“Uh,” He paused for a moment too long before smiling again. “you’ve always had my respect, which is why you should let me buy you a drink.” Joo’s dimples were showing again as he casually wrapped an arm around your shoulder. 

“Fine, we each buy a round?” You suggested, as you settled against him, fighting another laugh when you noticed his ears turn a deep red. At least you weren’t the only one. Maybe it was just warm in here.

“Sure, sure.” Jooheon nodded vigorously before he lifted a hand and flagged down the bartender. 

“ID.” The young man asked as he gave you much too long once over. 

You had gotten into the bar, hadn’t you? Why was he trying to card you again? With the roll of your eyes you slide your card his way and watched as he scrutinized your photo. It was almost comical the way his gaze switched between you and the tiny picture on the card. You said almost because the last time you went to a bar with Jooheon, the bartender thought it was a fake and refused to give you your license back. You had to call the cops to have them come retrieve it and prove your innocence. By the time the whole ordeal had been resolved, you didn’t even want to drink anymore. You had given the man a sour look before leaving with your friend in tow. 

Fortunately, this particular encounter didn’t take more than three looks and an eye roll. It was clear he didn’t believe you, but that wasn’t going to stop him from serving you tonight. Besides, it wasn’t your fault you had such a babyface. With an animated wiggle, you swiped your card off the bar top and whipped your head around to look back at Jooheon. 

“Wait, why didn’t he card you?” Your jaw dropped slightly as you poked at his face. “You’re younger than I am!”

“My dashing good looks come in handy at times like this.” Jooheon’s eyebrows wiggled moving  his elbows onto the bar to wait for your drinks. 

---

Four margaritas in and definitely more than two rounds later, the room had an unexplainable shimmer to it. Perhaps that was because of the company you were in? Or it could be the drinks. Eyeing your empty glass, you stood up with a bright smile and pulled your friend through the throng of people onto the dance floor. Jooheon blinked and smiled, those damn dimples showing again. Not wasting any more time, he grabbed your hand and joined your happy bounce across the floor. 

The words of the next song were unintelligible, and you weren’t sure if that was because your brain was stuck thinking in Korean, the alcohol, or a mixture of both. Either way, you were happy with the softer rhythm and a chance to slow down. 

This wasn’t your first time dancing like this, head resting perfectly in the squishy part of Joo’s shoulder just beside his armpit. He smelled like himself, a content hum escaping your lips before you could stop it. With eyes half-lidded Jooheon looked down at you, and your heart would have nearly jumped out your chest. if it hadn’t gotten stuck in your throat. With a heavy swallow, his eyes held yours. 

“Need some air?” He asked, his breath hot against your ear. 

With a squeak, you nodded your head and pulled away, stumbling towards the door. An arm wrapped around your waist to steady you, and you were ready to say something stupid until you saw the concerned look on his face. 

“I’m okay, justa little warmm~” Your words slurred, and those ridiculously cute dimples warmed you from the inside. Or was that the liquor?

It was cool and crisp, and you closed our eyes as you inhaled the refreshing bit of air you so desperately needed. Relaxing against the cold brick wall, you couldn’t help the smile on your face when the entire left side of you warmed. 

“Jooheon-ah?” You asked, eyes bright as you leaned into his warmth. 

“Noona?” He snickered, arm snaking behind you again as you tettered, gluing you to his side. 

“Aish- it’s like you’re trying to get me fired up!” You exclaimed, grabbing a fistful of Jooheon’s shirt as you swayed a little too far to the right. 

“Careful!” When he pulled you forward he closed the gap, your chest flush against his own as his hands held you carefully around the waist. “You’re gonna fall if you keep doing that, Noona.”

“What’s it matter if you always catch me?” You pouted, and his expression softened. 

“I’m more worried about when I’m not here to catch you.” Joo’s voice was soft, his face so close you could see your breath mingling. 

“Then how about you always keep your noona close?” Eyes closed, you stood on your toes until your lips met. 

It was the briefest of kisses, soft and sweet, but the shocked look on his face was enough to make you want to throw up. Had you miscalculated? You were drunk, so probably. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry! Oh, gods!” You pushed away from him, stumbling a little as you run your hands through your hair. Trying to find the best way to get out of there as fast as you could. 

You booked it towards the street, fiddling with the clasp on your purse to try and get your phone out. Uber, you needed an uber. Shit. Why was this so difficult? Walk, you were just going to walk. There was no way you would be able to get your purse open right now, and even if you could, there was no guarantee you wouldn’t throw up the moment that car started moving. 

Before you could make it to the corner, a warm hand gripped your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. Trying your best not to cry, you looked down at your feet and started to mumble out an apology, only to be interrupted by the gentle hands on your cheeks. 

“Say that again.” His eyes were wild, but Jooheon’s hands were steady. “Please.”

“Then, how about you always keep your noona close?” Your earlier question came out a whisper as you swallowed nervously. Your heart pounded against your chest, but you didn’t have time to think before Jooheon’s lips came crashing down against yours. 

“I thought you’d never ask.” Happy laughter now coming in waves between kisses as Joo picked you up and spun you around. 

He walked you home. Both of you stopped at your door, waiting, awkward, neither of you wanting to be the first to say goodnight, at least until you started to shiver. 

“Go inside, yeah? You’ll catch your death out here.” he snickered, gingerly placing his jacket around your shoulders. 

“Too late for that. I brought you home with me, didn’t I?” You smiled up at him, begrudgingly pulling out your keys. “You can come in, you know?”

“I know.” A hand slipped through your hair and you leaned into the touch. Happy when you felt his lips against your forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Breakfast?”

“That sounds good. I’m going to need something greasy to soak up all this alcohol.” You blurted out, trying to feed the key through the lock. Why did they make these holes so tiny?

“Same.” Jooheon leaned in, giving you one last flurry of kisses before he stood up straight and winked. “Goodnight, Noona.”