#but christ do i not want roommates. ill figure something out. its just annoying and difficult from so far away | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luci-cunt · 3 years

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@petalsfloating ilysm akjsdfajsdlfkjasdlk

#i want details#i am a fann#please how did mycroft and irene get together#how did sherlock and watson meet#is carrie realllly a babey do they have le qualifications huh#please no pressure but i would like to seee

ASK AND YE SHALL RECEIVE!!!! <333

(also @moonsandstarsaregay if you have anything to add on feel free <33)

Ok so #1: How did Mycroft and Irene get together?

asldkfja;sljfal;sdkfj this one’s funny because Moony and I haven’t really thought about how they got together XDD, it was probably something like Mycroft going “oh my god you’re gorgeous please let me feed you expensive food and kiss u” and Irene going “abso-fucking-lutely” BUTT!!! the way they get engaged,,,,, now that’s a story!!!

I’ll give u a snippet from the plot outline:

[More happens but later on Mycroft wisens up and runs through the rain to stand, dripping, on Sherlock’s doorstep asking for Irene.]

“Irene Adler,” Mycroft said softly, her voice shook as she said it, and it was like watching rain fall up seeing this woman so fragile as she watched Irene through her wet, ruined hair. “When I look at you I feel more than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I hate it sometimes, because I think it’s going to kill me,” she took a long breath, setting her jaw as her eyes shone with emotion. “But hell is a heaven compared to what life would be like without you.”

“Yes,” Irene said, tears streaking down her face as she reached out for Mycroft and kissed her frantically. It seemed like an odd response, at least until Mycroft broke from the kiss to curse.

“Jesus fucking christ woman I didn’t even pull out the ring yet,” she hissed, and Irene laughed though her sob and threw herself into Mycroft’s arms.

#1: Is Carrie really a baby?

In the figurative sense of the word? yes. In the physical sense of the word? No akjdssadflkajsd, he’s actually older than Watson!

For context, Carrie, Bill, Watson, and Kent had all been in foster care for a while before they got dumped into a boys home where they all met and became really quick friends. Carlton Watson--a local police chief--helped out at the home enough that he and the boys started getting close, and then when the ppl running the home found out Bill was a “girl” (because he’s transitioned but hasn’t had surgery) they were going to send him to a girls home and in order to avoid that Carlton adopts Bill, but he can’t just leave the other boys so he adopts them all. Their actual ages go: Kent, then Carrie and Bill, and then Watson, but the fam acts like Kent and Watson are the oldest.

Also Carrie and Bill always get called the “twins” because their birthdays are like 3 days apart and they make it “twin week.” Also they’re the closest of the brothers and just akjd;flakjsdf perfect I love them so much.

“Do they have le qualifications?” alksdjf;lajsdflkajsd absolutely.

Carrie doesn’t like confrontation, at all--he had a special spot under the stairs he used to hide in when he was growing up anytime the boys started fighting. He also jsut really wants everyone to get along. He and Bill share an apartment with some roommates because both of them had a hard time moving out of Carlton’s place. He became a cop because his brothers (except Watson) and dad did and he wanted to work with them more. aajsd;lkfajlsdk there’s more but this is so long I love him he’s babey.

Here’s a snippet (also this is technically the begining of Sherlock and Watson’s 2nd meeting!):

he got a text from Bill. Dinner. Bill always phrased questions like that, rarely using question marks. It was something he’d picked up from Kent and Carlton--though, which one of them got it from the other was debatable. Carrie was the only one aside from Watson himself who had actual manners, and his text came through a few minutes after Bill’s. Dinner? Bill wants Chinese but I want pizza. Thoughts?

Before Watson could answer however, another text came through. Please say pizza? Ask Kent, I don’t care. Watson tapped out, filling his coffee maker with water and flicking it on. He poked his head in his fridge, but the contents were abysmal, so he stuck a bagel in the toaster and called it good as his phone rang again. Kent said to ask you :( Because of course he did. A text from Bill came through. If u say yes to pizza its favoritism and Ill hate u forever. Carrie’s: pleeeeaaaseee came through at the same time, along with a string of emojis. Instead of answering Watson called Kent. “What do you want?” Kent answered, picking up on the third ring like he always did. “Pizza or Chinese?” Watson asked. “I’m working Watty,” Kent said, with an exhausted sounding sigh. Watson just waited, and he heard another sigh before the sound of Kent opening the door to his office to yell for Bill and Carrie to stop bothering Watson and get back to work. “There,” he said, back on the phone. “Thanks, are you still working the DeMain case?” Watson asked, pouring his finished coffee into a mug and singing his fingers on the toasted bagel. “Yeah, it’s mostly just paperwork at this point.” “Make the twins do it.” “I’m not--what do you want? What--yeah it’s Watty wh--what?” Kent’s tone suddenly went up four octaves in surprise and Watson furrowed his brow. Before he could get a word in though Kent was back on the line. “Jonathan Watson do you have something to tell me?” he said sharply, and Watson blinked, freezing where he was about to bite into the bagel. “What?” Watson managed. “Do we get to go to the reception at least!?” Carrie’s muffled voice came over the line, which only proved to further confuse Watson. “Watty there’s a nutjob here for you claiming to be your husband,” Bill’s voice suddenly piped in, and Watson swore colorfully. “This had better be some asshole I need to have committed because if this is how I’m finding out--” Kent threatened, and Watson tipped his head back and muttered more curses at the ceiling. “No--no, I’m not--Jesus--relax, ok, I’m not married or getting married,” Watson said, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

#3: How did Sherlock and Watson meet?

At a crime scene askdjf;lasjdf;lkj Watson was hired to steal Sherlock’s job but instead he helped solve the case and then Sherlock fell in love and moved from Portland to Seattle so he could work with him more kajs;dlfkjalsdfj

Here’s a snippet:

[WARNING: non-graphic mentions of suicide]

Before he could really look into it, however, the front door slammed open. “Remarkable how you didn’t even think to call me--” a man said as he sauntered in. “You’re giving me the impression you don’t like me.” The man’s grin was feral looking, a bit unsettling. He was tall--though shorter than Watson by almost a full foot--and lanky. Seemingly all long, sharp limbs that somehow managed to fall exactly where he seemed to want them. He was wearing a haphazard version of the clean suits, with the actual jumpsuit only half on and a pair of gloves. His longer brown hair was tied back and he didn’t have a mask on. Watson knew in a moment this must be Sherlock, and he was already annoyed by the man simply by his blatant disrespect of sterile crime scenes. He looked like a TV show detective, it was infuriating. “Montez! Baby! Give me the details, who’s our lady?” the man said with a sloppy grin as he crossed the room with his arms out. “What was it this time? Pills? No--don’t answer that I can see it,” he said, frowning a little as he examined the woman’s body, lingering for a moment on the slipper that had fallen off. “See, funny story, I actually didn’t call you because I don’t want you here,” Montez said with a scowl Watson could see even behind her mask. “You just keep getting funnier Montez,” Sherlock said, cocking his head and then following some invisible trail to the bathroom, where Watson was still standing. Watson went back to looking at the iPad. The doctor who’d prescribed the pills appeared to be legit, and the pharmacy was too--just down the street actually. He was scrolling through the other crime scenes to check for pills as well when suddenly Sherlock stopped in front of him. “You--” the man said, narrowing his eyes on Watson. “--are new…” “They called him in to disprove your crack-pipe theory,” Montez said, and Watson suppressed a sigh. “Really?” Sherlock said, his smile was not the reaction Watson expected. “And what are you looking up Mr. Job-Stealer?” He asked, standing on his toes to look over the top of the iPad. Watson jerked it out of view without thinking, but that just made Sherlock’s grin widen. “Oh! That’s something new--look Montez he doesn’t think your people can do basic detective work,” Sherlock said, before patting Watson’s shoulder. “Don’t worry you’re not wrong but--” “What?” Montez asked, and Watson really did sigh then. “I’m not--” Watson started, but Sherlock was spinning around. “I’ll make this easy for you Mr. Job-Stealer,” Sherlock said. “Doctor,” Watson said through gritted teeth. “Doctor Watson.” “She did kill herself doctor Job-Stealer, I’m sure you’ve come to that conclusion, I’m sure you all have--I’d honestly be worried if you didn’t,” he started rambling, and Watson scowled as he went back to the iPad, only half listening as the man continued. “As you can see this room is what one might call the dictionary’s definition of a depressed woman’s home. The curtain’s drawn--no natural light, a dying plant that must have only recently stopped getting regular water, the mess around the corners, like she only had the energy to clean up the center--” Watson frowned as he realized another connection. All the suicide victims had been taking the same antidepressents, prescribed by different doctors, but, they were all getting their prescriptions from the same pharmacy down the street. “--and there’s the disaster of a kitchen, I’m sure the fridge was emptier than heaven, and--” Watson was so busy double checking his findings that he didn’t notice Sherlock slowly coming back over with his head cocked and a curious expression on his sharp face. “--there’s the matter of the slipper, I’m sure of course you found the pills in the bathroom, you can see the scuff marks from where she dragged her feet as she got… closer to the… couch as the drugs kicked… in--Doctor what are you so interested in?” Watson’s head snapped up and he blinked out of his thoughts. “Ah--” he said, but Sherlock stole the iPad, scrolling through the page and flipping through the other’s Watson had been looking at as his eyes widened, and then he looked up at Watson. “You--” Sherlock started, “Are the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on, please explain and tell the cops to catch up,” he said, and then he was gone. Watson blinked, his brain reeling as he tried to comprehend exactly what just happened. “The fuck was that?” Montez asked, and Watson fumbled to come up with a response. “I--uhm--I don’t--” he managed. Thankfully the detective didn’t seem to be actually paying him any attention, instead leaning out the doorway of the apartment to yell something at Sherlock. When that didn’t get her anywhere she turned back to Watson. “Where is he going?” she asked, and Watson just flipped the iPad around to show the pharmacy’s address.

#OS&W #alkjds;flajs;dlfkjasdlkfj ilysm for fueling my addiction

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flutteringphalanges · 7 years

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Not Your Average Prophecy

Chloe is quite certain she's seen it all. Her partner, and now boyfriend, is the actual Devil himself. She's got a demon of a roommate, both figuratively and literally. And of course you can't forget to throw in Lucifer's angel of a brother, Amenadiel. But when Los Angeles' favorite detective becomes pregnant, everyone is in for a ride. FFN and AO3

((I hope you guys enjoy the introduction! I would love to know your thoughts! Until next chapter! -Jen))

Prologue

For the umpteenth time that week, Chloe woke up to the all too familiar wave of nausea. It was, in a way, a crude alarm clock of sorts, except there was no snooze button that she could hit. She tried everything to settle the figurative storm in her gut: curling up into a ball, trying to fall back asleep… Hell, she even tried to ignore it all together, but it had been in vain. Every attempt. And her efforts always concluded with a hand clasped tightly over her mouth, trying to keep the rising bile at bay as she rushed into the bathroom to empty what little contents occupied her stomach.

Just her luck. Of course it would be her who'd get sick. But with what, she didn't exactly know. The stomach flu maybe? Dan had caught that last week and, for the sake of Trixie's health, Chloe didn't object in the least bit at his request for her to take their daughter despite it was his weekend with her. Perhaps it was a bad case of food poisoning? Lucifer always did warn her about getting those damn sandwiches from the department's vending machine.

Her hands, clammy from sweat, shakily gripped the sides of the toilet seat. The bile burned the back of her throat as she dry heaved, head completely aching from everything by this point. God, how she craved to be put out of her misery. If there was a list of the worst illness side effects, puking had to at least be in the top ten. Maybe five. Right now, for her, it was one. And it clearly lived up to its place.

"Hey," Maze's voice called out, her fist knocking much louder than need be on the other side of the door. "Are you almost done in there? You're not the only one living here. I need to use the bathroom too."

"Can you just give me a minute," Chloe responded weakly, still hunched over the toilet. "Please?"

Maze huffed, her irritation not muffled by the thin walls which separated the bathroom from the hallway. With purposely heavy steps, she stalked away leaving Chloe, who was very much thankful, a moment to recollect herself. Or rather, as best as she could. Maze was quite an unusual roommate-even without taking the fact that she was an actual demon into consideration.

For the most part, whether it was unintentional or not, she was more so concerned about herself than others. Which meant that if she decided the detective had used up her restroom time, Chloe wouldn't be surprised in the least bit if the Devil's right hand woman smashed and splintered her way through the door. So the LAPD officer pushed herself upright, trying to fight through the dizziness that engulfed her head. The sour taste of bile and the uncomfortable stickiness brought on by sweat only added onto the pile of reasons her day was already shitty. But for the sake of the bathroom door, she decided to take care of her cleanliness after Maze had finished with whatever it was she wanted to do.

"You look like hell."

Maze's comment wasn't even snide in the least bit as Chloe passed her on the way to the kitchen. Actually, it came out almost as if the demon was truly being sincere. Not that being described as looking like crap was a good thing, it was more so the fact the other woman noticed her disheveled state and did not mock her for it. She merely nodded in response, moving towards the cabinet to get a glass for water. God was she thirst.

"You should just play hooky," the demon simply stated. "The dead don't have schedules to keep up with." She paused, a smile playing on her lips. "For the most part."

"No," Chloe mumbled, running her hand through her hair. "No, I'm fine."

She ultimately decided to forgo showering, feeling just shitty enough to the point where she didn't care what other people thought of her appearance. Her mouth was still sour when she entered her office and, though she personally couldn't tell, she wouldn't be shocked if her smell was far from pleasant. Screw the flu. Professionalism be damned. Chloe's gut twisted as she sat down, and for a moment, the fear that she'd spew all over her desk popped into her mind. But she doesn't. Thank Christ for that. And she drew her focus to the various piles of paper strewn across the table.

"If I didn't know any better, I would assume you went out drinking last night." Lucifer stood in the doorway, the ever present cocky smile playing on his lips. "But your idea of fun centers more around watching some silly movie and indulging on cheap popcorn." His grin widened and for some reason, Chloe felt the urge to sock him hard in the face. "Unless you partook in something spontaneous and failed to invite me."

"Wheel of Fortune was on," and she didn't need to look at Lucifer to know he was rolling his eyes. "That and a rerun of The Price is Right."

"Bloody hell," Lucifer shook his head. "We really do need to work on your tastes in entertainment. As your significant other, it is my duty to not allow you to bore yourself to death."

"I sure feel like death," Chloe muttered, causing Lucifer's smirk to fade. "This stomach thing hasn't gotten any better. You're going to want to avoid being in close proximity to me. Trust me, you don't want to get whatever this is."

Now he had this look of worry about him. If stares could burn, the intensity of Lucifer's eyes studying her body would've left her in a crisp of black ashes. She annoyed by this. It was a ridiculous thing to be irritated about, but right now, the last thing she needed was for her partner to play Dr. Devil-the one that wasn't a role in their sexual roleplays. Chloe was independent. Always had been. And the thought of having someone hover over her due to something as simply as a little fever was less than ideal.

"Stop looking at me like that," she frowned. "I'm fine. I should've said anything."

"Perhaps you should go to a-"

"I'm fine," she nearly snapped, a tone she knew she would later regret using. "I don't need a doctor."

He doesn't push the idea any further after that. Instead, he sat close by as she scanned page upon page of paperwork. It was a slow day and nothing noteworthy had come up that required any sort of fieldwork. Chloe felt Lucifer's eyes remain fixated on her through the entire few hours it took to process things. He was worried, and deep down that meant a lot. But right now, she felt so awful physically that the mere aspect of him coddling her or showing any sign of affection could've easily set her off the edge.

"Let me at least drive you home," he nearly pleaded when the detective finished and stood from her chair. "I don't like the thought of you driving like this...Well, by that I mean, you know...sick."

"Lucifer," Chloe sighed, exhaustion heavy in tone. "I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I'm fine. Look," she met his gaze, noting that irritating, secretly adorable look he gave whenever anything wrong involved her. "I'm fine. I'll text you when I get home. Go to Lux. You have that party thing to host tonight."

"College graduation students from their respective sorority and fraternity houses," he corrected. "But I could easily have Maze or someone else cover-" Chloe's frown deepened and Lucifer sighed in defeat. "Call me if you need anything, yes?"

"Okay," her voice lacked promise, but it seemed ligament enough for the Devil to buy it. "Go have fun, okay? I'll see you tomorrow. We're still on for date night?"

"Yes," he agreed, seeming to perk up. "I have cleared all of my appointments for bringing in new Hell occupants just for you."

"I'm honored," she smirked. "Have fun tonight, okay?"

She could tell he wanted to kiss her and she'd be lying if she didn't admit she wished the same. But she was sick. Infecting Lucifer would only make things worse-trying to solve a case with two vomiting, coughing detectives wouldn't exactly be ideal. So she shoulder bumped him. Why the hell she did that was a question she asked herself immediately after doing so. Lucifer gave her an odd expression, but returned the motion nevertheless. He never questioned her quirks. God she loved him.

It was drizzling when she made it out to her car. Quickly, as to protect what work she was bringing home with her, Chloe tossed the bag of briefcases onto the passenger seat. By some miracle, her nausea had subsided a little and for the first time that day, the idea of actually eating something wasn't an immediate turn off. Actually, the thought of eggs and toast sounded quite wonderful. She'd need to run by to the store to grab a new dozen, but it was on the way home.

Turning on the radio, she scanned the channels to find a station Lucifer would make fun of her for liking. Who was he to decide what was or wasn't good music anyway? She breathed through her nose and allowed her fingers to drum against the steering wheel as she cruised towards the local grocery store. Maybe she'd buy a tub of chocolate chip cookie dough too. That sounded surprisingly delicious.

The parking lot had a decent amount of open spaces which Chloe attributed to people not wanting to go out in the less than pleasurable weather. Pulling up into a spot that was reasonably close to the front entrance, she hurried inside. Eggs and cookie dough, that was all she needed, and without Trixie in tow to ask for a plethora of other things, Chloe easily located the items.

It was only when she was making her way towards the checkout line that she found herself pausing in front of the pharmaceutical section. It was an odd feeling. This sudden thought that she needed something she previously hadn't even considered. Glancing around, which she knew was stupid because she had no reason to act suspicious, she walked over to a section off to the side. There were rows of them. All different brands. All different ways of telling results.

For a brief moment, Chloe hesitated, fingers barely brushing against the colorful box. Maybe she was being dumb. That these silly conclusions her mind was considering were just that. Silly. But for some reason the urge only grew and, after she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, she snatched the object from its spot on the shelf and hurried to check out.

Maze wasn't home by the time Chloe got there, juggling her purchases as she went about unlocking the door. That made things easy. The last thing she needed was for Maze to find out about something that most likely was nothing at all. She put the bags on the counter, placing them second in priority to the little box that accompanied her into the bathroom.

Multiple times Chloe tested and retested the door's ability to lock, which only fed into her paranoia. Finally, after being certain no one could barge in, Chloe turned the box around and carefully read through each line of instruction. Conducting the actual test itself was the easy part. Pregnancy tests weren't exactly made to be that confusing. The most difficult aspect was the waiting itself.

C'mon. She thought to herself. C'mon. C'mon.

Three minutes felt like three eternities as Chloe sat there trying not to look at the stick. It was ridiculous. There was no way. She wasn't even late. Was she? She'd been so busy...God, was she? Her stomach twisted, but this time the nausea wasn't from whatever it was she had. Nerves. Chloe closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe evenly. Then, inhaling deeply through her nose, she looked down.

Pregnant.

"Oh shit."

#Lucifer #Deckerstar #Lucifer Morningstar #Chloe Decker #Lucifer on Fox #Not Your Average Prophecy

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