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jerzwriter · 5 months

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I just couldn't let the first chapter stand. This story is not part of my headcanon. In my HC, Trystan is in tune enough with Carolina to know she'd consider an engagement premature at this stage. But, I can conceivably see Trystan wanting to propose for... reasons. So, I wanted to do a little fix it... and here it is in two parts. Oh, and since I can suck at getting subsequent parts up, part two will be posted later today. :)

Book: Crimes of Passion: The Proposal Pairing: m!Trystan Thorne x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Characters: Ruby Webster, Luke Watanabe, Mafalda Ginovesi Words: 2,074 Rating: Teen Summary: Carolina makes an unexpected discovery in Trystan's kitchen, then runs out to seek advice from her friends. A/N: Participating in @choicesmaychallenge24 Hera: Marriage

Part Two Crimes of Passion Masterlist Complete Masterlist

There’s something special about early mornings in New York City - before the sun peeks through the clouds and the first bird has yet to sing its song. It’s the only time you’ll find the City that never sleeps at rest and it can be intoxicating. But the serenity on the streets of New York at this early hour was nothing compared to the tranquility inside Trystan Thorne’s apartment.

There, he slept peacefully with the love of his life nuzzled closely at his side. But while Trystan was adrift in dreamland, he awakened Carolina from hers, courtesy of somniloquy, or as the masses would call it... talking in his sleep.

“Yes, Your Majesty... Right away... I’ll find it...”

Carolina opened her eyes with a smile; she had seen this show before and found it quite entertaining. It rarely had a repeat, so she never knew what was in store.

“Unhand me, you beast! Otherwise, I can’t promise the search will be thorough!”

She cocked a brow at that one, gently rubbing Trystan's back. “What the hell are you dreaming about, my prince.”

With a quick jerk, he rolled over, desperately reaching out in his sleep. “Don’t go, Carolina! I love you!”

The level of desperation in his voice tugged at Carolina’s heart, and she quickly pulled him into a protective embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, kissing the top of his sleepy head. “You silly man. I love you, too.”

Still sleeping, Trystan's face visibly changed as he snuggled closer; peace and contentment were the rules for the day. Once she was certain he was sleeping soundly, Carolina decided returning to her slumber was the best thing to do, and she was just about to reach that goal when the ring of her phone jolted her awake. Not wanting to disturb Trystan, she lowered the volume and quickly tiptoed out of his room, grumbling the whole way. She saw Mafalda’s name on her screen and answered with an exaggerated yawn.

“Who’s dead?” she asked, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“If you’re calling me this early in the morning, I’m assuming someone died, and you need me to find out who did it.”

Mafalda’s sarcastic grin was so powerful Carolina could hear in her voice. “It doesn’t always have to be that deep... or tragic... But I have a case I want you to start on immediately.”

She went on to explain that one of New York’s wealthiest and most influential socialites had her dog stolen while strolling in Central Park; time was of the essence, and the heiress was willing to pay handsomely to have her precious poodle back home.

“Really?” Carolina asked. “This sounds like an easy payday to me!”

“I admire your confidence; now, see it through. The client’s name is Nina Ricci, and her address is....”

“Hold on a second,” Carolina replied, fumbling through a kitchen drawer. “I need to find a pen.”

Still groggy, she was quickly awakened when her fingers brushed over a soft, velvet box. Her heart stopped when she looked down—after all, she had only seen that color blue in movies... and she knew what it meant. It wasn’t nosiness as much as her detective’s acumen that made her open the box at once, and she gasped loud enough for Mafalda to hear when she saw what was inside.

“Carolina... are you OK?”

It was a ring. Not any old ring, but an engagement ring fit for royalty glistening in her hands.

“No... this... this can’t be....” she muttered.

“Carolina, what can’t be?”

“Oh, uh... Mafalda... it’s uh... it’s nothing. Uhm... I’ll be at the office within the hour.”

She hung up without waiting for a reply, her heart racing as she stared at the glittering gem in her hand.

“This can’t be...” she repeated. “He’s not planning on proposing... is he?”

She brought the ring closer, the radiant light it emanated assaulting her startled eyes. She had never been one of those girls who dreamed about engagements from childhood, so she couldn’t even begin to guess how many carats this was, though she knew it eclipsed the two-carat boulder that graced Mafalda’s left hand.

“This had to cost him more than I’ve earned in my lifetime,” she muttered. “This is crazy! And he has it in the kitchen drawer... the kitchen drawer. The man has, like... five safes in this apartment! And he keeps this in the kitchen drawer?”

She let out a shaky breath as a million thoughts raced in her mind. She’d be lying if she said she never thought about the two of them getting married...someday... in the future. The distant future, but this... this was far too soon!

“Is he really ready for this? Am I?”

A vision of Trystan on one knee appeared before her. He cradled the precious gem in his hand, and that sweet, doe-eyed look she had become unable to deny was all over his face. She broke into a sweat. She considered Googling her symptoms. Dizziness, nausea, and a rapid heartbeat could indicate many things, but she felt guilty for hoping to find "discovering an engagement ring in your lover’s kitchen drawer" among the culprits.

The sound of footsteps plodding down the hall pulled her from her panicked state. She returned the ring to the exact spot where she found it and grabbed a container of orange juice from the fridge. Jumping into a chair at the kitchen counter, she scrolled through her phone, attempting to look nonchalant.

That's where a groggy Trystan found her. "Look at you!" He mumbled as his arms encircled her. “It should be against the law to look that good so early in the morning.”

“Really?” She grinned. “You look pretty good in the mornings, too, sir. If they make it illegal, I would have to arrest you.”

“Kinky,” he growled. “As long as we’re in the same cell, I wouldn’t mind one bit.”

He shuffled to the counter to make a pot of coffee. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Mafalda called. She has a case for me. I’ll be heading into the office momentarily.”

Trystan’s face fell. “Today! But we just got back from Drakovia! Surely, Mafalda can spare you for a day!”

“You have a lot to learn about Mafalda... and what it’s like to be a working person,” Carolina grinned.

“Then it's time I learn. I’ll get dressed and go with you.”

“NO!” Carolina yelled, halting him in his path.

“Why? We are partners, aren’t we?”

“Uh, yeah. But Mafalda only requested me, and, uh, hon... life’s been a whirlwind lately. I think I need a few hours to focus on myself and my work... is that OK?”

“Of course it is. Maybe we could meet up later, at...”

“Oh, look at the time!” Carolina interrupted, planting a quick kiss on Trystan’s cheek before bolting toward the door. “I have to go! Talk to you later!”

“Carolina, wait...” he hollered after her, but it was pointless. She was already gone, and Trystan’s dazed look turned into one of pure amusement.

“I always knew it would be interesting to date an American,” he grinned, raising his coffee cup to his lips. “I just had no idea how interesting.”

~~~~~

A short time after, Carolina burst into the agency, startling Ruby and Luke, who were already there.

“Carolina,” Ruby chuckled. “Is someone chasing you?”

“Ruby!” a red-faced Carolina panted. “I need your help! I need your help right now! It’s an...emergency!”

“If it’s about finding the poodle, I’m not your woman. I don’t know much about dogs.”

“It’s not about the dog! It’s about the ring!”

Ruby scrunched her nose. “Did someone lose a ring?”

“No! No, it’s not about a lost ring; it’s about a FOUND ring! An engagement ring! In Trystan’s drawer!”

The room fell silent as the couple’s eyes grew wide. They exchanged a shocked look before Luke turned to his friend with alarm.

“You’re right. This is an emergency!”

“I know!” Carolina screeched, crumbling into a nearby chair. “This has never happened to me! What am I supposed to do with this?”

Ruby sat at her friend’s side, resting a comforting hand atop her knee.

“ Carolina, I realize this is... soon... and it's a bit of a shock, but the man you adore is planning on proposing. You may not be ready, but this isn’t exactly a tragedy.”

“Well, that depends on how you define tragedy,” Luke injected.

“Honestly, it’s not even all that surprising,” Ruby stated, glowering in Luke’s direction.

“It’s not?” Carolina questioned. “We’ve been together three months, Ruby!”

“Sure. But if you kept up with the latest royal gossip like I do, you’d know that royals operate a much different playing field than us mere mortals. Engagements tend to happen pretty quickly in their world. Granted, most of them are arranged, but still.”

“Well, I’m not a royal!” Carolina huffed. “And I haven’t talked to my Uncle Tommy today, but I’m comfortable saying that he hasn’t been having late-night conversations with Viktoria and Maksim to discuss my dowry!”

Anxiety overwhelming her, she jumped to her feet, pacing the floor furiously before her friends.

“Who does this! Who goes and buys a ring... a very expensive ring, from TIFFANY’S, I might add...”

“Oh! It’s from Tiffany’s!” Ruby cooed.

“.... without even talking about it first! In the year of our lord 2024!” She motioned for Luke to get out of his seat. “I need to sit... I’m hyperventilating!”

Knowing better than to fight her, Luke acquiesced. “Carolina, you could always just tell him you found the ring and, you know, talk about it like grown-ups?”

The three friends turned toward the sound of an exasperated sigh and found Mafalda leaning against the frame of her office door. She crossed the room and placed a steaming cup of coffee before her beleaguered employee. “You need to calm down.”

“How much did you hear?” Caronlina asked wearily.

“All of it.”

“You heard all of it, and you’re telling me to calm down!”

“Yes. Get yourself together! You’ve faced down mobsters, cult killers, and murderous evil brothers; for fucks sake, you can handle coming face to face with a ring in Trystan's apartment!"

“She has a point,” Luke agreed.

“Mafalda, you’re the only expert on marriage present,” Ruby interjected. “What advice do you have?”

“Please,” Mafalda scoffed. “The only marriage I’m an expert on is my own.” She turned to Carolina, arms crossed and a look that was both comforting and commanding on her face. “I know you love Trystan, but have you given any thought to marrying him?”

“I mean... maybe a couple times... in passing. But I imagined it the future... the distant future... Even if marriage was important to me, in the three months I’ve known him, we’ve been busy chasing down those killers and murders you mentioned... never mind clearing Trystan's name and keeping him out of a Drakovian prison! When would I have had time to be thinking about... marriage?”

Mafalda screwed her eyes shut as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You need to talk to him. He needs to hear these things from you, not us. Look, some people have whirlwind courtships, get married, and go on to have a beautiful life together, but Carolina, a marriage takes two people, and if you’re not ready for it yet... that’s fine. But tell him that.”

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s going to up and leave you if you say you’re not ready,” Luke added.

Carolina turned to him, and for the first time today the anxious look in her eyes was replaced with one of fear. “How... how do you know that?”

“Because I have eyes,” he half-smiled. “He’s crazy about you, and you’re crazy about him. Just... go get your timelines straight.”

“He’s right,” Mafalda agreed. I always say that if people in a relationship are honest and love each other, they’ll get through anything.”

Carolina gulped down the rest of her coffee, appearing more at ease than she had since this morning’s discovery. “You’re right. Now, do I tell him I found the ring and have this conversation with him now? Or wait until he proposes and say...no.”

“Offh! That’s a tough one,” Ruby jumped in. “You know Trystan... he’s go big or go home. If he’s proposing, I’m sure he has a flash mob planned.”

Carolina ran a hand down her face. "Thanks for that, Ruby," she groaned.

“You’ll have to make that call,” Maflada smiled, tossing a file Carolina’s way. “But you have some time to mull it over because, right now, you have a poodle to find.”

Part Two will be up later today. :)

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#crimes of passion #crimes of passion choices #trystan thorne #trystan thorne x f!mc #crimes of passion the proposal #playchoices #choices fanfic #choices stories you play #playchoices fanfic #choices

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moominofthevalley · 9 months

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Turpentine

While snowed in together, Trystan asks his friends a morbid question.

trystan thorne, emily rose, ruby webster, luke watanabe

teen | wc: 2.1k | cw: spoilers for book two, chapter fifteen, and talks of death

cfwc prompt: stuck in a snowstorm

Glistening fairy lights cornered all four walls of Luke and Ruby’s apartment, the yellow bulbs warming their hearth. Honeysuckle wine and a charcuterie board made by Emily were set on the table, crackers and prosciutto splattered across. The detective giggled, crossing her arms at Trystan’s creation.

“You are such a showoff.”

Trystan laughed as he set the main course on the dinner table. Steam slipped out of the honey-glazed duck, leaving their mouths watering. Roasted pears and plump blood sausages sat beside it, the heavenly aroma wafting around the air.

“You know I live to boast.”

“I think my dish is way better,” Luke beamed, setting his strawberry spongecake beside the duck. Ruby giggled, laying a batch of cookies on the table.

“It certainly looks amazing,” Ruby said, “I can’t wait to try it, honey.”

“Ah, yes, but did you spend two days making it?” Trystan teased, pouring himself a glass of wine — a floral zest with a crisp aftertaste. Emily elbowed him, playfully furrowing her brows.

“Anyways,” Ruby cleared her throat, “I’m so glad we’re finally home.”

“Agreed,” Luke plopped a grape in his mouth, “I don’t think I can ever handle being in a room with every Thorne again.”

Emily and Trystan shared an uneasy glance, silently unveiling mutual sorrow. Months have passed since their case in Trystan’s homeland, though the time spent there forever stained them. Emily’s mouth ran dry as Sebastyan and Vasili rushed through her mind. The dagger tight in Vasili’s chest, the petrified eyes of Sebastyan as he died at the hands of another Thorne. Two ghosts clinging on their shoulders.

“It’s hard to believe our little stint in Drakovia is over,” Emily shook her head, “I wonder what our next big case is gonna be.”

“No more cheating husband cases for you?” Ruby asked, her brow cocked amusingly.

“As tempting as that sounds, I might need bigger fish to go after.” Trystan chuckled, splaying his hand on top of Emily’s.

“Drakovia has spoiled her. Good luck getting her to take the common cases again.”

“Do you think you’d ever look into…your dad’s murder?” Luke asked, almost nonchalantly. Ruby sent him a warning glance, lightly bumping his feet underneath the table. Trystan’s hands curled into Emily’s, solace in his eyes.

Emily gulped. Each time she debated looking into Jimmy’s death, there were far too many holes, far too many questions, and not enough evidence. Distant memories of bickering with Uncle Tommy and Trystan struck her, and she cringed at how cruel she became. Desperately hungry to solve the only question she had left. She refused to let her and Trystan turn into a pair of tectonic plates – subtly rubbing against each other, then drifting away forever. To not catch the death of a relationship until it’s already rotting, staining every moment with resentment and twisted words. Even the slightest possibility of another heartbreak sent her spiraling.

“I’ve…thought about it,” she frowned, “One day, though.”

“One day.”

The moment passed, and the Ginovesi crew - bar Mafalda - began their feast. They all vehemently agreed, to Luke’s dismay, that Trystan’s duck was the clear winner. Luke’s shortcake was no match for the savory and crisp flavors of the traditional Drakovian dinner. Though his cake appeared light and fluffy, it was dense and oddly sour. Ruby’s cookies and Emily’s board tied for second place, both sweet and made with love. A blend of cookies framed like snowflakes, snowmen, Snoopy in Santa hats, and candy canes bunched together on a plate. The charcuterie board was a splendid still life, adorning moondrop grapes, saltine crackers, and rosemary sprigs.

“Good God!” Emily groaned, swallowing a slice of Luke’s cake, “What the fuck did you put in this?”

Luke’s eyes widened, “Do you not like strawberries?”

“Try it yourself! I don’t even…” Emily spat out the remaining bits, nearly gagging.

Reluctantly, Luke cut himself a small serving. Trystan and Ruby cackled as his face turned red, begrudgingly swallowing the cake.

“Jesus!” Luke shivered, “Okay–I think I know what happened.”

“What did you do?!”

“...I may have used salt instead of sugar.”

“Oh my God!” Trystan slapped his knee, “You are a horrible baker!”

“It-it’s not my fault!” Luke said, throwing his hands in the air. Ruby snickered, patting his shoulder.

“Babe. You literally made the cake.”

Rounds of laughs echoed through the kitchen; contentment and joy present on the soft New York night. Blissful moments fell around them as snow tumbled like raindrops, piling up minute by minute.

* * * *

Standing by the window sill, Emily tracked the ebb and flow of snowfall. Faint Christmas tunes slipped through the window crack, presumably from the neighbor. She hummed delightedly, eyes shut. Moonlight burst into the room, dimly lit and warm despite the glowing chill from the glass before her. The swell of nearby saxophones and Earthly beauty brought her to ease.

“Don’t tell the others, Detective, but your charcuterie board was my favorite,” Trystan grinned, sitting beside her.

“Oh really?” Emily smirked, “Are you sure you’re not being biased?”

“Hm,” Trystan gave her a so-so gesture, “Definitely not.”

Cupping both sides of her face, Trystan’s pupils widened fondly. Emily turned slightly, kissing his palm.

“Your hands still smell like garlic!”

Trystan chuckled, sniffing his hand. Sure enough, the pungent odor attacked his nose. He shrugged it off, focused on the gruff detective.

“I love you, my little moon!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know! You’re a bit…glum. And very short.”

“I am 5’3, you tall shit!” Emily swatted his arm, “I would call you my ‘sun,’ but you’re more like a little dog.”

“What? How?”

“You follow me around all day. And listen to my orders – for the most part.”

“Not to ruin the moment,” Luke announced as he pointed to his phone, “There’s a snow squall warning. It’ll clear up tomorrow morning, but you guys will have to stay the night.”

“A sleepover!” Ruby squealed, “How fun! I’ll go get blankets so you two can sleep on the couch.”

She disappeared into the hallway closet, hunting for the thickest blankets and pillows possible. Luke cocked an eyebrow, unamused as Trystan and Emily sat on the couch across from him.

“So when you said you loved Ruby’s cookies you were lying?” He asked Trystan, crossing his arms in faux-anger. Trystan chuckled, unashamed.

“I did love Ruby’s cookies – they were phenomenal. Much better than your shortcake anyway,” He teased, “Emily’s just happened to be my favorite.”

“You two are literal children,” Emily snorted, “I–”

Darkness surrounded them. The only light left was the waning candlelight on the kitchen table. Gusts of wind flickered from the cracked window, a biting chill creeping up on their skin. Concerned, Ruby poked her head out of the closet.

“Hot-diggity-daffodil!” Luke slapped his knee, “I guess the power’s out, too.”

“We can see that, Luke.” Ruby returned with a bundle of blankets. The crew settled in the living room, the window now shut, bottles of wine and lively candles by the coffee table. An easy silence shrouded the room, with only the croaking rats in the walls and the crackling candles to distract them. They all sipped the remains of the honeysuckle wine, sweetness trickling down their throats like candle wax melting onto the table.

“I have an idea,” Trystan cleared his throat, “It is a bit morbid, though.”

“What is it?” Ruby asked, curious.

“In Drakovia, we go around in circles asking certain…questions. Usually around New Year’s, but we’re in the middle of a snowstorm. It’s not like we have much else to do.”

“What type of questions?”

Trystan sat still, contemplating. An eerieness in his eyes, a peculiar tenacity about him. He flinched at the briefest second, then shrugged.

“If you were dying, how would you like to pass away? What would you like to have with you?”

Silence surrounded them once more, their breaths slightly more tense and strained. Emily sat closer to Trystan instinctively, craning her head against his shoulder. The candles continued to wail, as Ruby cleared her throat with somberness in her eyes.

“I think…if we ever got one,” She glanced at Luke, “I’d like to have a little cat in my lap. And Luke to hold my hand. And maybe a cup of tea, but only in that calico-print mug you got me for our anniversary.”

Luke wiped tears from Ruby’s cheek, a rare solemness on his face. He grinned weakly, pressing a kiss on the side of her face. Ruby’s heart swayed in the lull air, her hand tight in his.

“I need Ruby next to me, laying by me. And I want it all to be quiet,” Luke murmured, “I don’t want to be able to hear anything. But I want there to be a window. So I can look up at the sky. I don’t care if it’s day or night…that’s all I want.”

The candles remained lit, embers mute and growing frail. Warmth bloomed between them, huddling closer together. The moon climbed further into the night sky, its silvery rays illuminating the apartment. Trystan fiddled with his fingers, as Emily rubbed circles around his legs. It was like muscle memory. Rituals and silly minuscule traditions became more familiar to the two of them with each passing month. Chopping garlic cloves, peeling oranges, collecting ugly trinkets.

“I’d want someone to play old Drakovian music…the songs my father showed me as a kid. And,” Trystan grinned at Emily, a smile so unabashedly bold and bare it nearly brought her to tears, “I want you to kiss my forehead. And rub my feet.”

Emily pecked the top of his head, eyes burning as Diana’s kind words echoed in her mind. Trystan wiped away her tears, tenderness with every touch.

She was familiar with death. A one-sided friendship, a shadow lurking behind her with every step she took. It offered no hope and no excuses. The only things bereavement brought were ghostly memories and pearls from the past rolling in her hand, daring to be dropped. Her fingers trembled, her mouth dry as she urged herself to go on.

“I don’t want it to hurt,” Emily said finally, slightly panting, “Every single one of them died in pain. And alone. Sonja. Bethany. Nadja. Sebastyan. I don’t want it to be like that. I want to be ready. And...have Trystan next to me.”

They all leaned against each other. The candles shined well into the night. Empty wine bottles scented the room, warm and heady. Emily shut her eyes, picturing herself as a sleeping child being carried to bed after a long drive home. Laughter through the walls, the ticking of a nearby clock, soft jazz slipping through the window, a kiss on her cheek. Perhaps it’d be good to her. Just a brief second and all that’d remain was a tombstone with her name.

Emily unveiled her vision, the rest of her friends in tears. Trystan stroked her hair gently, still smiling. It was simple. It was clear.

“All we want is everything we have,” He said, their faces inches apart, “And I’m the richest man in the world.”

* * * *

Ruby and Luke shut their bedroom door, Emily and Trystan now alone on the couch. With her legs in his lap, he rested a hand on her thigh, tracing lazy circles. The candles had long died out, leaving only moonbeams and constellations to light up the room.

“Em?” Trystan whispered as Emily moved over to lie on his chest. She gazed into his argent eyes, exasperation clear on his face.

“Mhm?”

“Do you remember when I refused to go on that plane? All those months ago.” Emily snorted quietly, Trystan gliding his hands along her back.

“Of course I do. I knew you weren’t going to.”

“Do you remember what you said to me after that?”

“Mhm. I told you there’s a reason partners and romance don’t mix well. That it’s trouble waiting to happen.”

“And then I told you that I just so happen to like trouble.”

They smirked, noses crinkled and eyes bagged. Trystan cupped Emily’s chin, palms still smeared with the scent of garlic.

“I’m glad we’re partners.”

“I am too.”

* * * * A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! Thank you for reading this – I came up with this idea FOREVER AGO but was never able to execute it until now. I’ve always loved the idea of thinking of death, not as something to fear (though I still struggle with that), but rather as something that is just a little moment. That’s painful, and maybe not necessarily beautiful, but something that just happens organically. Like that one poem that’s like “I hope death is like being carried to your bedroom as a child.” I actually wrote a poem about that, if anyone would be interested in me posting it. Anyway – thank you again for reading!

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