#crimes of passion choices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inlocusmads · 1 month

Text

gridlocked ~ trystan & nora

Nora and Trystan investigate a case of a missing student, except they realize she might have also gone completely offline; her internet footprints scrubbed off as if she were never there.

wc: 2.9k, warnings: mentions of blackmail

a/n: @choicesmonthlychallenge prompt "new life" // this is the first installment in many case-fics (I'm back writing more case fics!) to come (gonna be very very original here and title this part one of the 'The Casebook of Nora Rose' lmao). This doesn't follow any sort of 'canonical' timeline, so take it however you will

In the cases of missing persons, it is perhaps more important to observe one’s bedroom - especially if they didn’t have a verifiable presence online. The topmost sanctuary on a list of them. (The list went: locked blogs, private social media accounts, bedrooms and boxes, in that order.)

You’d be surprised the number of times Nora found the answer in an unsuspecting drawer. A ticket from a school charity carnival and suddenly the kid is on the run with the fundraising money, not knowing what to do, knowing they couldn’t just give up and afraid to stay in one place, afraid of getting penalized legally.

Maria Palmer’s bedroom was neat. Mrs Palmer had put in extra care in the form of extravagant housekeepers to dust everything with its own scent. Everything had its place. The vanity kit never bled into the verdant mahogany desk meant for working. Books never touched the bedside tables, given their own places on neat shelves. Working stationary was contained to two drawers alone; the ink kept far away from the silk bed sheets.

Nothing suggested a kid lived there; even if the kid just so happened to come from a line of wealthy corporate magnates. And that’s precisely where Trystan came in.

“I just had a talk with David and Clara.” he said, entering briskly.. “They said they last talked to Maria over the phone when she was en route back to her boarding school. They denied any claims of her ‘acting strange’ over the weekend and were puzzled to hear the news that she wasn’t present anywhere in school.”

“But you call bullshit.”

“Obviously. If anything, Maria would know how to hide well. Part of the whole ‘being a part of a pressurizing family’. Look-” Trystan pulled open the vanity drawer. “- generic brands of high-end makeup, never used. Books hardly ever opened. Everything feels so -- new, preserved like a museum here.”

Nora’s phone vibrated with a series of texts from Luke. She picked it up, giving it a quick glance:

Luke: Sending you Maria’s student profile from Wellesley’s. Luke: <sent an attachment> Luke: No luck w the social media stuff, I suggest you look for different means. Girl’s digital footprint is scrubbed off. Luke: can’t track her phone either. Tough luck but I'll keep trying.

“Must be one hell of a phone to have Luke not figure its entire schematic diagram out already.”

“Her student records say she was a well-rounded student with good grades. She started at Wellesley two years ago; transferred schools and got in on a soccer scholarship.”

“Funny. Maria’s parents never mentioned she took an interest in soccer. When I asked them if she liked her time in Wellesley, they said she liked to write and that the school had journalism clubs she was a part of.”

A quick look at the boarding school’s website suggested there was no such thing as a journalism club. A soccer team did exist with everybody’s names and accolades and while Maria’s name was emboldened at the very end under ‘reserves’ - points for trying out and having rich parents, Nora supposed - it still didn’t add up when her student records took her in on a scholarship.

“I don’t think we can trust their word.” Trystan said. “It is likely Father Palmer made a nice donation and they just had to get something on paper to prove Maria was admitted in on merit. And if I am not wrong, boarding schools pride themselves over obscure polo-esque sports. Hence, the field of soccer - pardon the pun - is open for anyone regardless of their skill.”

“They are usually sometimes right.” Nora switched her phone off, slipping it into her pocket. “Maria might probably enjoy writing. It’s the first thing her parents would have told you about her, right?” - she continued, off Trystan’s slow nod, “I don’t think they’re lying. They wouldn’t want us stumbling into this soccer scholarship. It’s good news for whatever press that keeps writing about them.”

Nora fished her phone out of her pocket. She handed it to Trystan. “I don’t think we’ll find any piece of tangible area to cover more than her bedroom. Can you do a sweep?”

“Right, because you think I am qualified because I stuff my poetry in a tree trunk.”

She gave him a you-dug-your-own-grave look.

Trystan sighed, hand on her shoulder.. “Word to the wise, go easy on them.”

___

“We called for carpenters when Maria came over the weekend. She had a bookshelf built for her.” David cupped his mug of tea, taking slow sips. “She was -- herself. Maria talked to us a lot. She seemed to be really liking her classes this semester. Very focused, you see? The bookshelf was a reward for her good grades. We try not to spoil her too much.”

Clara walked back from the kitchen, taking a seat on her plush couch. Her haunted look from before seemed to have dissipated. “Pardon me for asking, detective but - I have heard many things about your partner. He is the exiled prince, isn’t he? From that -- little city we went on vacation once and never again.”

“Yes, he is.” Nora answered, reluctantly.

“Thought I recognized his face somewhere.” Clara chuckled a little. “The memory - it’s a little finicky.”

“Did life get busy after Maria transferred schools?”

“Um- a little.” David was hesitant but hadn’t lost his temper yet. “She lived far away from us - we barely had enough time to think about ourselves because we were too busy worrying about her. It’s been years since we went back to Europe and even more since we took a holiday.”

“Must be rough, but - c’mon, who hasn’t taken a summer road trip anywhere, right?” Nora tried to make her enthusiasm look less synthetic. Fortunately for her, the parents were too dejected to notice whether she had an interest in the Palmers’ holidays.

“Maria spent her summers in Wellesley.”

“The whole summer? Did she have a project or-”

“We assumed so.” Clara interjected. “Guess we can’t trust our daughter anymore with anything, really.”

“Clara-” David motioned, as if he were trying to tell her to refrain herself.

“It’s true. She only came home for the weekend because she cared so much about that shelf. She doesn’t come home if there’s no little present waiting for her.”

“Clara, that’s enough.” David filled her empty mug with wine.

“I personally like to believe Maria would have appreciated the present. It is something she got after doing well in school, I presume? Considering you don’t wish to spoil your daughter.”

“No, of course not.”

“What do you generally reward her with? Might be a bit of an odd question to ask--” Nora started.

“No, no, nothing odd about it at all. Thing is, she never really asks for anything.” David replied. “She’s a good kid - easier to understand. We had no problems with her. She owned tons of books, read a lot, so we gave her a shelf. Told her she could customize it however she liked. We encouraged her to try out for the prom committee. Gave her the best dresses, makeup kits money could ever buy. We supported her journalism stint too - gave her the best camera possible..”

“Did she take them to school?”

“Presumably. Had she had the opportunity, she’d have had her bookshelf built in her dormitory!” David exclaimed.

Nora thought of the unused stationery, the makeup that still remained new, the wardrobe she’d only taken a quick look at - unsure what to make of the well-ironed dresses that never were worn. She thought of the books too, what Trystan told her about them - Books hardly ever opened. Six years in the industry and you too could tell if a book had been used or not judging by the fractures in its spine, forgotten bookmarks or creases on the pages. Judging by the parents’ accounts, it appeared they assumed money could fix their absence.

David purposefully fed his wife alcohol to keep her quiet; exhausted from having to project an image of ‘corporate calmness’ at his daughter’s disappearance. Clara had broken entirely; resorting to blame her daughter because it was easier that way. Nora concluded the mother and daughter wouldn’t have been the thickest of friends, considering how little of Clara appeared on the mantle of framed photos. One parent spoke highly of their daughter, while another shunned her every second they could get their hands on. Clearly Maria had different relations with them.

“Did she have plans after Wellesley?”

“She’d always expressed an interest in the family business.”

“Pfft.” Clara scoffed. “Clearly she had more interest in running away with her imaginary boyfriend.”

“I apologize.” David interjected quickly. “Please go check on the bread. Clara? -” he ushered her away to the kitchen, “I’m sorry for that. My wife is a bit of a cynic sometimes and this has taken a hard toll on her mental wellbeing. Could you give us some time, please? And if possible, could you wrap this up a little sooner? It’s best for Clara that way - if it is okay with you.”

_____

“Have you thought about it?” Trystan asked. The two of them stood staring out of Maria’s bedroom window, at the brilliant front garden. A few books were stacked up on the desk, but left halfway through - something that could be said for Trystan’s “sweep” of the bedroom that had hit a brick wall.

“If Maria is a writer and the parents believe her to be, you and I do the same, where is the expression? The writers I have met are expressive, are - really out there. Nick Bastion would take part in cult orgies to write a mystery book about the same thing. Writers are expressive people. If Maria had free reign to do - well, just about anything with her parents’ money and them willingly giving her everything, regardless of whether she likes it or not - it is likely she has already expressed herself.”

“But what is it? It’s not in writing. Not on social media. Nothing coherent.”

“The very absence of expression - can we say - amounts to some expression as well?” Trystan turned around on his heel. “The bedroom matches the walls, the hallways, and the rest of the house. Where does that leave Maria?” Trystan asked. “If she has her parents’ personality bleeding into her space? These books -” he pointed at the pile at the desk, “-are all from the Wellesley Student Library. They all have that slip of paper attached to their covers. She never took them back to her school.”

“Let’s piece together a timeline.” Nora flipped open the first book, then the second, third, fourth and fifth. She noted down the dates of Maria borrowing them and the dates they were due back. It was clear she’d brought them with her, but left with a suitcase lighter than usual.

Nora went back to the wardrobe, phone in her hand with the Wellesley website open showing her the dates of all the important events the school were to celebrate. Prom was only a few weeks away. The Annual Athletics Meet was only a few days away. All her formals hung limp in her closet. The smoking gun was finding a haphazardly thrown-away jacket with the Wellesley School’s soccer team insignia that had her name embroidered. Boarding schools might be rich, but seldom did they give more than one blazer to their athletes - reserves included.

Suffice to say, the absence of expression amounted to a greater deal than the slightest bit of difference among the gold and silver wallpapers. Maria knew her parents well enough to ensure she left her room in a way that would never reek of suspicion. After all, she was David’s little girl; Clara’s disgraced daughter, the Palmers’ spoiled child who always left with something more than she came home with.

It was a common unspoken piece of information at this point, that it was safe to assume Maria had run away. Whether it be on her own volition or through peer pressure, it was clear she’d prepared herself for it long before she’d come home.

Nora sat on the bed, scrolling through more details she could gather from Wellesley’s website, only to find a dropdown menu that said - ‘summer programs’. Curious, she clicked and gave the article a quick perusal.

“Trystan, do you have a copy of Maria’s student records? Does it mention she has any history of doing a summer program?”

“No- none at all.”

“Language arts, swimming, Latin-” Nora read off the course list. “It says that students who aren’t involved in summer programs would not be allowed to stay back in the school. The Palmers think that Maria is doing a summer program and that’s why she doesn’t come home for summer. And if you wish to stay back, you need consent from your parents.”

“But it says she’s never done them. At all. No mention of it in her records. Or any history of her staying back.”

“Everything - like you said - with her, concerns an absence.” Nora went over to the desk, picking up the books issued by the library. “No wonder we couldn’t find anything about her online. The books don’t have a barcode sticker, which means they’re not uploaded in the system yet.”

“The titles too.” Trystan highlighted. “New York Subway Guide. Perfect for a girl who is new to rapid transit commutes.. Home Repairs and Improvements. Worthy if you are taking a woodworking class. Worthier if you’re starting a new life. You get the idea. Question is, why did she leave them behind if they are useful guides?”

“They’re books.” Nora answered, which didn’t really prove her point.

She sighed, substantiating further. “Books are heavy. She can’t take pictures on her phone camera - no, unless she has one of those low-quality burner mobiles. David mentioned giving her daughter a camera to support her journalism hobby. Perhaps she could have taken what she needed, ditched the books back because she didn’t need all that extra weight. And it works out for her because the books don’t land up in her records. She doesn’t need to have her Google searches leave digital footprints.”

“It is a reasoning.” Trystan compromised.

“Another thing that I found strange-”

“Which is?”

“Her parents. Neither of them - in my brief conversation with them - ever wrestled with the possibility she could have been kidnapped. A sixteen year old girl travels alone. That sentence doesn’t end well in many stories. One could say it’s a likely response to trauma or distress but -- like I said, subjective.”

“We can’t rule that out either. The parents have their own differences to settle. The child could have been caught in the middle. Question is, if she really did wish to run away, why do it now?”

“It’s the timing. David said Maria was very excited to come home to customize her bookshelf. He said they had to get carpenters to work on the customizations. Depending upon the commission, furniture businesses usually insist you pay before you get a shelf assembled for you. Typically the package would also cover the costs for carpenters--” Nora searched the bookshelf for any signs of a logo stamped across the side. She emerged with a satisfying smile, giving her phone a couple of taps, pulling up the contractor’s website. “-- like so.”

“Nora I genuinely have no idea where you are leading with this.”

“She needs cash. She needs a nice check so that she can trade for physical cash. What did you tell me about Maria having free reign?”

“If Maria had free reign to do anything with her parents’ money and them willingly giving her everything, it is likely she’s -- expressed herself?”

A quick word with David and Clara only cemented this theory further.

“Maria told me to address the check to Harriet Trout.” David sunk his head into his hands. “I didn’t -- I thought it -- I mean, it was a couple hundred dollars--”

“Can we get an exact amount?” Trystan queried.

“A thousand dollars. I--- I should have checked, I-- I genuinely thought --”

“We’ll look into this.” Nora told the distraught couple. “We’ll be in touch.”

Wishing not to engage further with the internal politics in the Palmer household, Trystan and Nora took their leave.

____

“Harriet Trout wouldn’t be that hard to narrow down.” Nora said, as they walked back to their car. “A made-up name at that too. Maria would be avoiding getting her transactions on paper, so she’s traveling with cash. She wouldn’t have gone out of state. Last-minute plane tickets can rake up prices. She needs money for food and living.”

“We’ll have to look into nearby motels with cheap price ranges.”

“Somewhere near Wellesley would do it. If she hadn’t come back home for the summer and likely wouldn’t have gone out of state either, given her parents would know either way, she would have hung around in motels. Perhaps someone was sponsoring her stay through the summer. Ensuring she doesn’t have to use her card because her parents would come to know if she were to withdraw huge amounts of money overnight.”

“Do you think she might have opened up an account in Harriet Trout’s name?”

“Possible.”

“Nora wait-” Trystan placed an arm on her shoulder. “What if she didn’t run away like we assumed? What if due to this - sponsor, she was forced to go back and repay the money? But a thousand dollars would hardly cover two, three months’ stay. With three meals a day and transport. And that discounts your everyday expenses. It could be well above a thousand.”

“Maria’s father told me she never really asked for anything. It could be her guilt holding her back.”

“Think about it.” Trystan implored. “The sponsor would likely be more experienced than her.. Them telling her how to get the money, how to get it from her impressionable parents. Her father, especially, because they had a good relationship. It is unlikely for a sixteen year old boarding school student to do something like this if they don’t already have a steady hand guiding them through.”

Nora agreed. “The sponsor seems to understand her better than anyone else that she would leave home for it. Something that is holding her accountable somewhere. One which she had no control of.”

He continued. “After all, that is all people want, yes? Someone to understand them better? And they’re more vulnerable then?”

Vulnerable sent shivers down Nora's spine. She immediately took her phone to call Mafalda.

_____

Tagging:

perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @tessa-liam @stars-are-within-me @thosehallowedhalls

crimes: @trappedinfanfiction @ao719 @cassie-thorne @peonierose @moominofthevalley @jerzwriter @dutifullynuttywitch

Also tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged/removed, as always no hard feelings.

A/N:

This is *technically* my first foray into writing short mystery stories and I really hope I did a good job of it and that there are no unaddressed plot holes that makes me want to astral project myself into hell.

I want to bring out bits of characterisation in the story and I loved writing how Nora sees a problem versus how Trystan sees a problem. Nora's rooted in pragmatic explanations while Trystan tends to challenge both pragmatism and abstract-ism with a flurry of "Wh-" questions.

I especially liked writing the last bit because it kind of has them show a lot more sympathy than they originally started off with and both of them can kind of put themselves in Maria's shoes. I didn't plan on writing an end to this, given it would likely exceed 4k words and I did not want this little short story project to just derail into a pit of hopeless nightmares. You can expect Maria to have a happy ending, reunite with her parents and have Nora and Trystan be able to use their assumptions and deduction to derive a thread of a possible explanation to bring Maria home.

Thank you for reading <33

#w:inlocusmads #trystan thorne x mc #crimes of passion fics #crimes of passion choices #trystan & nora

17 notes · View notes

lexicook74-blog · 2 months

Text

I need there to be a scene in crimes of passion 3 when mc just collapses in Trystan’s arms and she’s like crying or having a moment. I’m a SUCKER for comfort moment. Omg. Do it PB!!!

#choices stories you play #pixelberry #choices #crimes of passion #trystan thorne #trystan x mc #crimes of passion choices #crimes of passion 2

23 notes · View notes

storyofmychoices · 7 months

Text

If you follow your heart just right, it will get you to New York City.

Art by the loveliest irdeinfierno (IG)

[Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose Masterlist]

Drabble below the cut

Follow Your Heart (to New York)

Pairing: M!Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose (F!MC) Book: Crimes of Passion (post book 2) Word Count: <;300 Rating/Warning: General (none, all the fluff) Prompts: @choicesoctober (ship-romantic, finally in the open!); @choicesficwriterscreations (art and fic of the week); @choicesprompts ~flufftober

Synopsis: Trystan and Lilah share a quiet moment in the city that never sleeps.

Beneath the warm, soft glow of the string lights, which dotted the rooftop bar like tiny stars, Trystan and Lilah sat side by side, fingers intertwined, gazing at the Empire State Building lit up behind them. Dozens of tourists flocked to the garden's edge, taking photos with the iconic building in the background. It shimmered like a crown jewel against the city's canvas; and yet, there was only one thing either of them had any interest in admiring tonight, and it wasn't the city's historic architecture or dazzling views.

Trystan brushed the back of his hand gently across her cheek, cradling her face as he admired his favorite view. "It took us long enough to get here."

"There's this saying—" Lilah began. Her face tipped down, but Trystan lifted her gaze back to him. Her lips pulled up in the corners. "If you follow your heart just right—" her voice was soft, as the city that never sleeps sang with life around them, "—it will get you to New York City."

Trystan's eyes glimmered beneath the lighting, his warm gaze a reminder of everything they had endured that had brought them to this moment. "And here we are... my heart guided me here, to you, and all the adventures that await us—on the job...and off."

As the night deepened, the pair drew closer together, their bodies fitting like two pieces of a puzzle. After all they'd been through, the excitement of the city below became a distant murmur. This quiet moment—just the two of them—was their greatest adventure yet.

#trystan thorne #trystan thorne x mc #crimes of passion #choices crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #playchoices #choices game #choices book club #lilah rose #trystan x lilah #lovealexhunt #fan fiction #fan art #my commissions #trylah #october2023

56 notes · View notes

jerzwriter · 28 days

Text

BOOPED!

Carolina's phone would not stop "bleeping"! But when a friend helps her get to the bottom of it, she and Trystan are in for some startling discoveries about each other.

Book Boop: Crimes of Passion (post Book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Characters: Luke Watanabe Summary: See above Rating: Teen Words: 2.150 A/N: All right, so I may have been a total party-pooper with the "boops," but that got me thinking how my OTPs would have handled them... and that led me here! I hope you enjoy it! Participating in @choicesaprilchallenge24 - prompt - "You're not going to believe what I just found."

*Bleep*

The utter silence of the Ginovesi Detective Agency’s offices was rattled each time Carolina’s phone “bleeped.” Trystan eyed the phone warily, glancing between it and Carolina every time it went off. For a woman who demanded complete silence when they were focusing on a case, she was doing her best to ignore it, but Trystan knew it was only a matter of time...

“¡Ay, Dios mío!” she cried out... and there it was. “¿Qué carajo es esto?”

Taking the phone in hand, she frantically tapped away at it, but the bleeps kept pouring in, and with each new arrival, Trystan watched as his girlfriend became more unhinged. “¿Qué es esta mierda?”

That’s when Luke entered the mix. Slinking into the office with his hands nonchalantly stuffed in his pockets, he slouched into a chair with a half smile.

“Oh no. I heard nothing but Spanish coming out of you from way down the hall. This can’t be good.”

“It’s not!” Carolina spat as Trystan debated whether her frustration was utterly adorable or good cause for him to evacuate the office as quickly as possible. “I can’t get this fucking thing to stop bleeping!”

There were many things Trystan could have said or done, but as was often the case for the former prince, he reclined in his chair and chose chaos.

“It seems one of her former suitors isn’t taking the hint and won’t let go easily,” he smirked. “While I may no longer be a monarch, I still have some pull. One phone call to Lydea, my love, and I will have that man relieved of his testicles. Give me a name and number,” he winked. “I assure you, the bleeps will stop within the hour.”

Carolina glared at him with anger in her eyes, but despite her desire to remain cross, his stupid grin managed to do her in.

“Bold of you to assume it’s a he, your highness,” she derided. “There is a far greater likelihood that it would be a she. So, someone will be deprived the pleasure of performing an orchiectomy today.”

“An orchiectomy...” Luke queried, pulling up Google on his phone, but Trystan pushed it aside.

“Spare yourself the pain, man. It’s the art of relieving someone of their balls.”

“Ouch!” Luke shuddered. “Of course, I can see how the inability to do that would cause some Drakovian guard to fall into a deep depression, but still... ouch."

Trystan turned back to Carolina with a shrug. “It’s OK, love. They can remove body parts from women as well.”

“That’s so good to know,” she laughed. “But I’m afraid this isn’t as salacious as a spurned lover trying to get me to bend to their will.”

“Then what is it?” Trystan asked. “Your phone’s been going off all day, and I’ve never heard that notification tone before.”

“It’s,” she began, stopping herself as four curious eyes stared at her, eager for a response. “It’s... nothing. I’ll just turn the sound off my phone.”

“GASP!” Luke mocked. “During work hours! When you could potentially miss... something?”

It would have ended there for Luke, but Trystan wasn't done. Realizing something was amiss, he closely watched his love, not about to let her off the hook.

“Why don’t you just turn notifications off? What’s so embarrassing? Is it... Facebook?” he chuckled.

Carolina was an animal entrapped in a corner, desperate for an escape, but when it became clear that none existed, she surrendered. Burying her face into her hands with a languid groan... she confessed.

“I freaking wish! It’s .... worse!”

“Worse than Facebook?” Luke said with feigned horror. “What is it? Your old OKCupid app?”

“No!” Carolina said, throwing a pencil his way.

“Your old FarmersOnly account!!!”

“What?” Trystan snickered.

“I didn’t have a FarmersOnly account! Well, I did... but it was just a joke to frighten Uncle Tommy! Besides, I deleted that long ago!”

Trystan turned to Luke in confusion. “What... what’s FarmersOnly?”

“That’s unimportant, “Carolina interrupted. “It’s... it’s my Tumblr. I haven’t used it for longer than I can remember; I didn't even know it was still on my phone. But I’ve gotten like seven hundred notifications today, and I have no idea why!”

“So,” Luke shrugged. “Turn the notifications off.”

“I can’t! I forgot my password... and before you say it, I don’t remember what e-mail I created the account with. So I can’t reset it.”

“So,” Luke shrugged again. “Just delete the app! Problem solved.”

“But the detective in me needs to figure this out," she sighed. "Who knows why this is happening? When I go home tonight, I’ll try to remember what e-mail accounts I had circa 2016. Maybe I can figure it out.”

“It was probably something like myglitteringlittlenyyankeepony@ yahoo.com or something like that,” Luke laughed.

“More like [email protected],” she tittered.

“Dear Lord,” Trystan groused. "Both sound dreadful, but can we circle back to something potentially even more embarrassing? You had a Tumblr account?”

“Oh, shut up!” Carolina defended. “It was 2016! All the cool kids had a Tumblr account!”

“I didn’t,” Luke announced.

“I said cool,” Carolina retorted. Still, Trystan was undeterred.

“What on earth did you use your Tumblr account for? Were you in a fandom?”

He had intended to let it go, but when Carolina’s cheeks turned brighter than any apple he ever witnessed in a Cordonian orchard, he knew the quest was just beginning. Raising a brow in wicked delight, he teased. “Yesssss....”

“I was into Divergent,” she said, raising her hands. “Big fan... The Hunger Games, too.”

“All right,” Trystan nodded with a smile. “I can see that....”

But now it was Luke’s turn to incite, “Really? Because I could have sworn you once told me you used to write fanfiction for Princess Di.....”

“Obviously, you’re mistaken!” Carolina shouted. “Katniss! Katniss x Peeta, my OTP! That’s why I was on Tumblr!”

“Wait,” Trystan interrupted. “Princess Di? Were you into Princess Diana?”

“No,” Carolina spat. “Luke is just losing his mind, that’s all!”

“Oh, come now, princess,” Luke chided. “Is this the foundation you want to build your relationship on? A throne of lies?”

“No,” Trystan smiled gleefully. “Thrones of lies are bad. Very bad."

“I believe they are,” Luke chuckled. "I'm sorry, Carolina. It’s confession time.”

Trystan slunk over to Carolina’s side, playfully nudging her with his shoulder. “Time’s up, dear. Tell me the truth, or I’ll have to employ ancient Drakovian torture measures to get you to speak!"

“Yeah! And not the kinky ones you’re into!” Luke grinned.

“Fine,” Carolina exhaled with disgust, her voice barely a whisper. “I was very into... The Princess Diaries."

Trystan’s lips began to curl, the dimple in his cheek becoming more pronounced. “I’m sorry... what?”

“The Princess Diaries! OK!! I used to love The Princess Diaries!”

“In 2016!” Luke scoffed. “Weren’t those movies popular in like... 2004?”

"So?! I was a little behind the times. I was a nerd... so sue me! My Tumblr was all about The Princess Diaries... are you satisfied now?” She asked, hiding her face in shame.

Trystan rubbed his chin in delight as he allowed Carolina to sweat it out, thinking of the best way to torture his prey.

“The Princess Diaries! This all makes so much sense now!”

“What?” Luke wondered aloud. “That she always had a soft spot for monarchy scum?”

“Well, yes,” Trystan responded. “ But, seriously... how long did you have these fantasies about being a long-lost princess, my dear?”

“What! Never! I’m a Boricua from the Bronx! A freaking badass, bisexual Boricua from the Bronx! Being a princess was nothing I aspired to!”

“Yet you were writing Princess Diaries fanfic?” Trystan tsked. “Then... you relentlessly pursued me.”

Horrified, she slammed her hand on the desk. “I DID NOT!!! You know I didn’t!”

“I’m not sure what to believe anymore, Carolina. Right now, I’m feeling sort of cheap and used.”

Luke howled with laughter. “In fairness, there’s nothing cheap about you, Trystan. Used? Sure, I can see that. But cheap? No way.”

“Thank you, Luke,” Trystan acknowledged.

“Don’t mention it.”

But Carolina wasn't smiling. “I never had some monarchy fetish! I just liked the stupid movie! It was escapism for me, OK? But you know damn well you being a royal was a detriment to me, not a bonus! I wasn’t all, ‘Oh, now I need to land this guy!’ you know that!”

“I can't be sure anymore. I think I have to have this investigated to make sure your intentions with me are pure!”

“You know that’s not a bad idea,” Luke nodded as he typed away on his laptop. “I do know of a good agency that could help you.”

“LUKE!” Carolina yelled, so flustered that she hadn’t noticed her phone stopped bleeping several minutes before.

“Relax... princess...” Luke teased. “I just hacked into your Tumblr. The bleeping should stop now.

“But... how?” She asked, immediately catching his sarcastic stare. “Yeah, don’t bother answering that.”

Trystan stood over her shoulder as she opened the app. “700 notifications? Seriously, why the hell did I get all these notifications today?”

“It looks like they were having some kind of a “boop” thing for April Fools? I guess it’s like the old Facebook poke? Everyone seems to be sending boops.”

“But why?” Carolina asked, dumbfounded. "Don't people have better things to do with their time?"

“Look,” Luke chirped. “I'm capable of doing a great many things, but making sense out of anything that happens on Tumblr.... that’s asking too much...even of me.”

“True,” Carolina mumbled.

“He makes sense,” Trystan nodded in agreement. “Now, let’s read some of your old fanfic.”

“Oh, hell no!” Carolina insisted. “There’s no way!”

“Please?” Trystan begged, with puppy-dog eyes in full effect.

“All right, fine! But only on one condition!”

“Name it!”

“You show me your old Tumblr... and don’t lie and tell me you didn’t have one. We both know you did.”

“Sorry, my love,” Trystan shrugged. “But I didn’t.”

The couple turned to Luke when he sighed again. “Do you really want to start this relationship sitting on a throne of lies, Trystan? Or should I call you PlayfulPrince315. Dude! Using your actual birthday? I know you were a tween then, but still, you should have known better!”

“Playful... Prince?” Carolina beamed. “OK, Mr. Playful, what were you doing on Tumblr?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he winked. “I was searching for beautiful want-to-be princesses from the Bronx.”

“Nah,” Luke laughed. “Minecraft. He was into Minecraft.”

“Really?” Trystan asked, dragging a hand down his face.

“Hey, I outed Carolina, and she’s my best friend. You knew you weren’t safe.”

“Minecraft?” Carolina said with mock disgust. “Tell me it wasn’t Minecraft porn... please?”

“WHAT?" Trystan asked in shock. "Was that even a thing?”

“Sadly, it was,” Carolina laughed. “I’m sorry, but I need to know if you were into that. I don’t care how long ago it was; I am not marrying any man who once got off to Minecraft porn.”

A devilish grin slowly spread on Trystan’s face as he stepped confidently toward Carolina.

“Marry... you say?” His grin miraculously grew wider. “Have you been thinking about marrying me, Carolina?”

“I... uh, I...” she couldn't have been more grateful for Luke jumping out of his seat.

“Well, I think I’ll leave you two alone. You can handle this conversation without me.”

He headed toward the door, but not before handing Trystan a scrap of paper. “Here, this is your Tumblr password, Playful Prince. You two can figure out your weird pasts alone.”

“Oh, like you didn’t have weird things in your past!” Carolina yelled after him.

“At least they aren't archived for prosperity on Tumblr,” Luke grinned. “And I’m relieved to say it doesn’t look like Ruby has to deal with that, either. But I can’t wait to tell her about the two of yours.”

Luke whistled as he exited, turning one more time before shutting the door. “Oh, and Playful one? You got 200 fewer boops than Carolina... and you’re royalty, man? Embarrassing! Just... embarrassing! I don't think she should consider marrying you!"

Trystan turned to his blushing girlfriend. "So, back to that marrying thing.... how often does that cross your mind?"

"Uh, you know what," she said, reaching up for a soft but passionate kiss. "Why don't I tell you all about FarmersOnly instead."

"Uninterested," he beamed.

"All right," she said, pulling out her phone. "Then let's say I allow you to read 3,500 words of angst I wrote about Princess Mia and Prince Harry circa 2016?"

Trystan's eyes lit up. "Seriously?"

"Here," she said, handing him her phone. "Go through my whole masterlist. By the time you're done... you'll forget anything else."

Trystan slunk back into the chair, tossing his feet on the desk for comfort. "Don't count on it," he winked. "Don't count on that... at all."

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

#choices fanfic #playchoices fanfic #crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #choices crimes of passion #trystan thorne #luke watanabe #trystan thorne x f!mc #trystan x carolina #playchoices #choices stories you play #choices

50 notes · View notes

moominofthevalley · 8 hours

Text

Sempervirens

A string of letters written by Emily through the years

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of death & grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga – all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. So…here’s a list of things in my life you never got to see.

I stopped doing soccer right after you passed. I’m sorry.

I know even when you were here I had horrible grades. But I made it. I graduated high school. I got into college, worked my ass off, and somehow became the youngest person in NYC to make the Homicide Division. I hope you’re proud of me.

…But it’s brutal. Captain Thompson is just cruel. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and I don’t know. There’s no concrete evidence yet, but I know there’s something up with her. And the rest of the NYPD. I’ll move on to something better eventually.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your ‘Smoke Couch.’ The black leather one in our old living room. It still reeks of cigars.

My head hurts writing this. Me and Tommy still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. Even the files have nothing. I’m so sorry. There has to be something. You’ve been gone ten years and all that I have left of you are old photos and some beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/18

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities by now. I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last letter…a lot has passed. Anyway–some life updates as promised.

I quit the NYPD. Are you surprised? I found so much shit - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. So I left. I spent two weeks moping, just bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s so much better at the agency. There’s this guy named Luke who does all the computer stuff for us. He’s pretty sick. He lost his mom around the same time I lost you. And there’s a forensic analyst who occasionally works with us, Ruby. I know you were never much of a gossip, but they just started dating. They’re cute together. You’d like them.

Also, I got rid of that stupid leather couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably had mold in it. And it smelled like absolute shit. Smoke and Horse Creek. Yuck. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with a fancy fringe at the bottom. I can already hear you calling me bougie right now.

They say this in movies, but I didn’t expect life to change so fast. I have a dog now. Twilight. I found her at some deli during an investigation. (Everything’s fine now, don’t worry). She’s adorable. I woke up this morning with her head in my arms, staring at me with her big brown mopey eyes. I love her so much.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and stay there. I don’t think I’m complaining this time. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s because he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse one day and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it was so nice to talk about you. I know I introduced you to him the last time we saw you.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there might be a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you. I hope you know that.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s only been a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing lawyer for a few minutes. It was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan…Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up. My head hurts. It’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep.

Trystan is sleeping right beside me. He’ll never admit it, but he drools in his sleep. I love him so much. He chops garlic for me, washes my back, and always listens to me talk about you. I want to bite him sometimes. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all of your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just like you did - black. I have your small, bulbous nose. I took a train to Montauk and thought of you.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. Fun fact, this was originally going to be called ‘someday, anything.’ Glad I didn’t go with that! I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @stars-are-within-me@shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads @tessa-liam

@dutifullynuttywitch @juudaimes-true-form @plathski @cnvrsecupid @im-the-galactic-starfish (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my perma tag!)

#crimes of passion #choices #playchoices #trystan x mc #choices crimes of passion #crimes of passion 2 #emily rose #trystan thorne #choices stories you play #grief #choices cop #choices game #losing a parent #crimes of passion choices

10 notes · View notes