#alvin booth | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chicago-pd-is-weird · 5 months ago

Text

Alvin Olinsky Oneshot

Requested by @andgry4

Synopsis: This plays out a scenario from the deleted scene after Al’s death, where the team is listening to Trudy tell a story about Al from their glory days, presumably out on the beat. See the scene in the YouTube video below, then read the oneshot below the cut!

youtube

Al got into the car beside Trudy, nodding a small ‘good morning’ to her. He pulled out his banana, starting to eat it in silence as he sipped his coffee alongside it.

“Morning Al. How’s Meredith?”

Al hummed in reply. “Discouraged. She wants a kid. She still hasn’t been able to get pregnant.”

“Ugh.” Trudy contorted her face in disgust. “Pregnancy.”

“Yep,” he replied, looking out the window as they started out down the street on their patrol.

“I’m assuming Hank is still out with Camille?”

“Yep,” Al repeated with a shrug. “She’s taking it hard.”

Trudy shook her head. “One can’t get pregnant, the other has twins but one is stillborn. What’s wrong with your DNA?”

Al hiked his shoulders again, shaking his head. “I eat plenty of bananas, like she tells me to. Granted, she read that in a tabloid but I’ve been doing whatever she wants.”

“Wise choice. Wasn’t it oranges last month?”

Al sighed and nodded. “I think she’s going to make me start eating both with every meal.” He shook his head. “As long as she doesn’t take away my coffee.”

“Hear, hear,” Trudy replied.

The morning was quiet, which didn’t bother Al or Trudy too much. They made small talk about whatever they saw on the street, places to eat, and crazy stories about their years on the job. They talked about goals and where they wanted to be in a few years, not to mention getting more coffee and billing it to the department.

As the afternoon rolled around, Al looked to Trudy. “I know this really good Moroccan place on the south side.”

“Nah, I’m in the mood for Tex-Mex.”

“Come on, Trudy, we just had tacos yesterday.”

“Then you can walk down the street to the McDonald’s,” she replied with a shrug as she pulled the patrol car onto a side street. “Come on, Al, this is a really good place.”

“I let you drive out of respect, but if you’re going to keep taking us to get tacos every day, I’m going to lift the keys off you first chance I get.”

“Try me, Olinsky,” she replied with a glare, then got out of the car.

Al sighed and followed her into the Mexican restaurant. They got their food, then sat in the booth beside the window. Al begrudgingly ate his taco, watching out the window as Trudy ate hers. He stopped and put down his food a moment later, sighing. “Aw, man…”

“What?” Trudy looked up with wide eyes, then caught Al’s gaze, sighing heavily and stuffing another bite in her mouth before both of them got up and ran out of the restaurant.

“Hey, Chicago PD!” Al announced to the two men across the way, toting large guns as they patrolled the outer doors of a warehouse. “Put your hands where we can see them!”

The two men immediately grabbed their guns, spraying bullets at Al And Trudy, who ducked behind a parked car. Then, the men ran inside. Guns drawn, Al and Trudy moved toward the door, Trudy calling for backup on the radio. Then, the two of them stormed the warehouse on their own, which resulted in a shootout.

Al and Trudy were both pinned behind pieces of equipment in the warehouse. Bullets ricocheted off the metal everywhere, making it that much more dangerous. They couldn’t gain leverage except when the men had to reload.

After several hours and many rounds of bullets later, SWAT was able to come in and apprehend the men with guns. When the warehouse was searched, it would found that there were more guns, more than Al or Trudy had ever seen before in one spot. They both gave their reports to the Sergeant on duty, then were dismissed back to the district.

The car ride was silent except for the occasional heavy breath as they both re-loved the trauma they’d gone through that day. Al looked out the window. After about ten minutes of being stuck in traffic, Al looked over at Trudy. “Told you we should’ve gone to that Moroccan place on the south side, but no, you wanted to hit up the Tex-Mex place.”

Trudy looked over at Al. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“They have great yogurt there, and they use fresh mint and so many other great ingredients. We should stop there and bill it to the department. For psychological damages.”

“I doubt that will fly with our Sergeant.” Trudy glanced down, a frown coming to her face as she looked back up to the road. “Al, what the hell happened?”

Alvin didn’t say anything at first, catching her gaze on his pant leg, then slowly looking up at her, just looking her over for a moment. “Yeah…” he mumbled. “I got shot.”

Trudy’s eyes widened twice their normal size, and she pulled the squad over, looking at him. “You got SHOT?! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Al just stared at Trudy, as if examining her entire face and committing it to memory before speaking. “I didn’t wanna bother anybody.”

Trudy scoffed, but could see he was serious. She shook her head and immediately took off her coat, pressing it into his leg. “I’m taking you to Med.”

Al put a hand on her arm. “No, just take me home. I’ll use my first aid kit.”

“Hell no you’re not.”

“Trudy, please. I can’t put Meredith through a hospital visit. The stress isn’t good for her. I’ll just throw away this pair of pants when I get inside and sneak into the bathroom before she sees me.”

“That’s not going to work.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, come on, if you want go to the hospital, then I’m taking you to my place.”

“I can do it on my own.”

“Alvin, I said no.”

Al finally relented, seeing as Trudy wouldn’t. She took him to her house, stitching up his leg, washing his pants, and sewing them up. “There. They’re not perfect but they’ll pass by Meredith until you can toss them and get new ones.”

“Thanks, Trudy. And just in time for dinner. Why don’t you come over? I’m sure Meredith would love to see you again.”

Trudy smiled. “I’d like that a lot, Olinsky.”

#chicago pd #chicagopd #hank voight #cpd #sargent trudy platt #trudy platt #al olinsky #alvin olinsky #deleted scene #oneshot #fanfiction requests

14 notes · View notes

nualaofthefaerie · 7 months ago

Text

Holding Hands

Pairing: Death of the Endless x Wanda

Content: SFW

Type: hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, a little bit of both

Content warnings: death (what a surprise)

Author's note: I wrote this in haste. I was entirely possessed by the concept so I rushed to write. Death x Wanda are my top wlw ship and I hope you all will see my vision.

It felt rather numb.

Wanda had always imagined death to be painful - stabbing through one’s soul, tearing at it, then gnawing it until there was nothing left. Life had certainly made her believe so. And death was supposed to be far worse.

In life she had to forge a path for herself, by herself. No one really gave her another choice and she certainly was not going to give those she left behind the satisfaction of complaining. Although she probably should have done so. If she had shouted, if she had resisted, created a mess, they would have had no other choice but to acknowledge her existence.

“Ts.” Her tongue clicked as she hovered over her aunt, crying through gritted teeth. “As if you ever cared.”

It was utterly grotesque to watch all of these people who had decided to burn their bridges with her, now mourn over her grave.

“That’s not even my grave!” she threw her hands in the air. “Alvin Mann is who you assholes are grieving!”

“I do not think they can hear you.”’

Wanda had indeed imagined death to be painful. But she was beautiful. She had a warm smile on her face and an awfully every day New Yorker look about her. The weather was nothing less but suffocatingly hot, yet Death wasn’t even sweating in her leather ensemble.

“I know you, yet I am sure we’ve never met.” Wanda’s brows gathered at the tips.

“We have.” Death laughed. “We have met so many times, Wanda. You are a rather reckless one.”

Wanda retreated back into the green fields away from her own funeral. No, Alvin’s funeral.

“Well, I do not remember you then.”

“Of course.” The tiny wrinkles around Death’s eyes raised and Wanda’s heart, although now certainly dead, skipped a beat. For all that had changed throughout the years the one thing that never truly did was Wanda’s affinity for falling in love with women out of her league. She’d reckon Death was at the top of that list. “Back at the Marquee a few years ago, in that bathroom-“

Wanda’s heart sank. She remembered the night at the Marquee well. Barbie had left for a few days and without her constant supervision, the anxiety had gotten the better of her and Wanda had fallen into old habits, habits she wasn’t particularly proud of.

“They said I was supposed to be dead then, you know.” Wanda sat down in the grass.

“You were.” Death nodded, sitting next to her. “I was supposed to take you away that night.”

“Do you do that for all of us? Take us away?”

“Well, I am a notoriously hard worker.” Death laughed, pulling out a pair of Ray Ban sunnies. “But yes, I try to be there for all of you. If I cannot, I have a small, but diligent group of helpers and subsets of my existence that will take care of any abnormalities…” she stopped mid sentence, turned her head to one side and laughed again. “Except a few special abnormalities. The universe can become a bit boring if we are all to constantly play by the rules, which is why I took you to the hospital instead of taking you with me. You were not completely gone then, so I was presented a choice and I took it.”

“Why?” Wanda interrupted her.

“Why not?” Death’s chin rose to the skies, satisfied with her vague answer.

“I died anyways.” Wanda shrugged.

“We will all die anyway.”

“Even you?”

“Well…I think so, yes.” Death’s booth dug into the dirt, but she kept looking at Wanda. The dead girl

“And who will take you?”

“You are a very nosy one, do you know that?”

Wanda tried picking up a flower but her fingers slipped through it like wind.

“Ha. Yeah, I do actually. At least Barbie always said that I ask too many questions.” Wanda then grew quiet, looking over the splash of black across the green field. Barbie was nowhere to be seen. Did she even know Wanda had died? Had anyone told the only person who was going to mourn Wanda as opposed to whoever’s body was in that damn coffin, she had died? The sun didn’t feel so warm anymore. “You know I always thought death would be painful.”

“Well, I do try to be gentle with you all. Frankly, I’m not even the scariest one of us all.”

“Us?”

“Not of importance.” Wanda nodded distractedly. She was still thinking about Barbie. “It is not so bad. I have seen deaths with a lot less…turnout.”

Wanda shook her head.

“It’s empty to me.”

“You should not leave this world filled with resentment.” Death’s smile dropped. “It’s not good for you.”

Wanda’s blood boiled at the thought. Her head turned sharply to the beautiful, but cruel Death.

“And how else am I supposed to leave? How else are we supposed to leave? I don’t owe them my forgiveness. They are not even here for me! They finally get to mourn the man they wanted but never got! I bet some of them are even glad I’m dead! They won’t have to give anyone awkward pauses anymore after someone asks them ‘And how is Alvin?’.” her jaw clenched. “And it is not only me! There are thousands, millions of people probably who feel the same as I do – abandoned, lonely, ostracised for nothing more than being ourselves. Yet, I am the one who should bestow them my forgiveness?!”

Death’s silence was deafening. She turned her gaze upon the crowd gathered around the Catholic priest whose voice raised above the hills. Quiet hiccups and sharp whispers carried through the winds all the way to Death’s ears. Her sigh sent a chill through the spine of every living creature.

“You are right.” She said at the end with all the seriousness in the world. “They do not deserve your forgiveness. But if your soul is not restful, I cannot take you.”

“Then don’t.”

“That is worse.” Death grabbed her hand. It was warm. Especially for a ghost. “Listen to me. You need to. Not for them. For you.”

“I can’t.” Wanda whispered. “I can’t just leave and let them win.”

Death kept her rules simple. She was not to get attached by any means to anyone, ever. Morpheus’ romantic frivolities were fascinating to watch, no doubt, but they were nothing she could afford. She was the eldest. She held it together so Destiny could remember. Simple. It was simple. That is how an eternity of existence had passed. Death worked alone. It was not her job to fix humanity, it was her job to observe, to learn and take. Enough cheaters existed already.

“You have to.” She whispered back. “I do not wish for you to feel pain.”

Enough cheaters, indeed. Yet, Death found herself holding Wanda’s hand tightly, her eyes firmly set on Wanda’s that shone in a dashing hazel colour. If she had a heart, the woman’s conviction and will would have certainly made it skip a beat. But she didn’t. Death was self aware enough to recognize attraction. She had very rarely felt it herself, but it was not as if she could ever act upon it. ‘Fucking a ghost is like a therapist fucking their client.’ She thought to herself. Still, her ether was moved.

‘There are enough exceptions. Enough cheaters.’ She was reminding herself like a mantra, hoping it would return her own unwavering principles. It did not. It only made her hold onto the dead woman even tighter (if that was even possible).

Then Wanda jumped, pulling up Death with her.

“Barbie!” Emerging from the pit of black clad mortals, was a woman, holding onto the arm of a man Wanda recognized in an instant. “The Mister!” she shouted, looking at Death. “I know this man.”

“I am sure you do.” Death nodded.

“No. I know him. I worked for him when I died.”

“I know.” Death sighed at the sight of her brother.

Morpheus, gallantly dressed as ever, was accompanying Barbie to the Wanda’s grave. His head turned towards the hill only once. He nodded, silently, as he usually did, then turned and re-engaged in a conversation with Barbie.

“I didn’t know they were acquaintances.”

“They are not. Barbie knows him as much as you know me.”

“Who is he really?”

“My stupid idiot of a brother.” Death turned her head to one side again. Wanda couldn’t tell if she did that when she was curious or agitated.

“So he can see us then?”

“Oh, yes. Even if he doesn’t want to.”

“And Barbie?” she asked, filled with hope, quickly shattered by Death’s gentle shake. “I understand.” The words forced themselves past her lips.

A shout interrupted the solemn conversation. Her aunt was shouting at Barbie, who wore the most outraged look on her face.

“You will not besmirch Alvin’s name with your lies!”

“Her name was Wanda.” Barbie’s shout far surpassed anything Wanda’s aunt could muster. She could always outshout anyone, Wanda smiled remembering all the times she had found that trait annoying. Now it felt more than welcomed. “She was a kind, understanding woman, who had all her life in front of her. She only ever did that stupid job because of you!”

“Now,you-“ the old woman raised her hand, prepared to strike Barbie for all her disobedience, but it never landed.

“I would advise against such displays of unnecessary violence.”

Death’s brother, that weird tall and lanky mister, sounded menacing. Wanda swore he did not sound like that mere days ago. The aunt let go without further fuss. The coffin was slid into the ground, covered with dirt and that was it. The crowd dispersed with no excitement, only exacerbated sighs and puffy from crying eyes.

Wanda could not help but roll her own. Death chuckled, then offered her hand once more.

“Come on. I will re-introduce you to him.”

Wanda took it, no questions asked. She thought she would take it dead or alive. Oh, how much she wished she could tell Barbie about this beautiful woman; the young divorcee would certainly find the story amusing.

“Brother!” Death led Wanda by the hand back down the hill and into the crowd.

“Sister.” His response was far calmer than the excited shout of Death and her waving. “Excuse me, miss Barbara.”

“Of course.” Barbie nodded in both directions, sniffling quietly under her nose.

“Wanda?” Death placed her other hand on her shoulder, but Wanda did not move. She watched as Barbie rubbed her tears away violently, smudging her intricate makeup; fell to her knees, while her white stocking rolled in the dirt; pulled out Wanda’s favourite lipstick – a decade old Mac in bright, bright pink, and with all the love in the world dragged it across Alvin Mann’s name, writing “Wanda” instead. Nothing more, just Wanda.

“I love you.” Barbie’s jaw was clenched, but she continued talking. “You were the closest I had ever had to a soulmate. I still think Ruby might have been a better name, but you loved Wanda too much. So, Wanda, don’t you dare leave me, you hear me?! In spirit, as a ghost, whatever. Don’t leave before I leave.” Barbie got up, dusted herself off and without saying goodbye, left.

Wanda couldn’t bear to look after her, but she did feel anger rise in her.

“I deserve my goodbye.” She turned her head to the Endless.

“You get what everyone gets, dear.” Death smiled quietly. “Nobody ever gets to settle all of their affairs.”

“I am not talking to you.” The curls on Wanda’s head bounced as she turned to the King of Dreaming. “You. I am dead because of you.”

Death barely contained the delightful laugh about to escape her. How full of surprises can a ghost be?

“One does not fare well exploiting me.” Death’s brother looked down upon her. For a moment Wanda felt fear, then remembered she is already dead and there was nothing more that could happen to her anyways. So she put her hands on her hips, looked up and with a silent pout demanded. He looked sternly over his sister. “Will you intervene, sister?”

“No.” Death trailed unsure. She felt herself tapping in waters unknown even to her. “I do not think I will, actually.”

The man sighed.

“Your punishment of me is wholly unnecessary.”

“I am not punishing you, Dream.” Death put her hands in her pockets, intrigued to see where the conversation went.

“Hey. I am still here. Here’s what – you let me say my goodbyes with whatever magic is it you have, and I don’t blame you for the rest of eternity.” Wanda held her own. She imagined the stronger she appeared the easier it was going to be convincing the man of her wishes. “All I want, Dream, is to say goodbye.” She bawled her hands in fists, but still refused to look away.

‘I will not die out quietly. I will not.’ Wanda repeated to herself, time and time again.

“Perhaps, I can offer you a different solution.” Dream began with composure. Death knew what he was about to do. He had the habit of picking up strays and she watched them all grow utterly devoted to him, each in their own way, but they were a loyal, close knitted group. She imagined Wanda amongst them. She didn’t like that thought. Her ether was pricked, she felt it as it twisted and turned in a knot.

For the first time in a long, long, long time Death felt the universe come out of its axis, as realisations she had hoped to never think of in their entirety clouded her judgement.

“He can offer you a goodbye, but that would be followed by servitude. I…” what was she doing? “I can offer you something better. You don’t want to go yet, do you?”

“Not if it can be helped.”

“It can be. I need…assistance moving souls from one place to another; delivering some messages of fright and finding missing souls.” She did not look at her brother in that moment, but Death certainly felt his almost mocking gaze upon her. ‘He will never let me live this down.’

“Alright.” Wanda nodded with no hesitation, grabbing onto Death’s hand.

“It is not a job for kind people.”

“I think I will fit the role of a mean ghost quite well.” Wanda rushed to lock their arms, giddy. Frankly, she thought Barbie would understand the desire to follow Death into…well, death, but more importantly she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to Barbie quite yet. She could spent her time with the most beautiful, kind woman to exist and love her from afar, even possibly from up close, while waiting for her soulmate.

“I think so too.” Death whispered.

“Very well, then. Where do we begin?”

“I need to bid my brother farewell.”

“Of course.” She unwrapped herself from Death, pointing at the hill. “I will wait for you there, okay?”

“Yeah.” Death nodded.

Wanda ran, while Death remained, her nightly shadow behind her.

“Do not say anything.”

“I do find it especially amusing considering your strict convictions.”

“Morpheus?”

“Sister.”

“Zip it.”

Morpheus offered a coy smile.

“It is a refreshing moment, indeed.”

“Do you feel vindicated?”

“Very much so. Enjoy the misery of these humane feelings you love talking about so much, big sister. You will quickly find out, they do leave scars.” He finished on a sour note.

“Okay, okay. Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Perhaps.”

“Then go.” Death pulled his ear. “Get out of here.”

“Will you not ask me how she died?”

“No. I do not wish to know. I do not wish to be part of this concoction that is you and Delirium. It is too much. Even for me.”

“Very well, then. Good day sister.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind only the ghost of Wanda, who was smiling and waving as if she had been offered a whole new life.

“Come on!”

Death smiled and waved back.

She was perhaps allowed to cheat herself once in a while.

AN: I hope you enjoyed that. I am unsure whether I would do this again, probably not simply because I do wish to keep my blog exclusively about Nuala, however @orionsangel86 offered me kindness in the last week that I am eternally grateful for. So this is my present for them.

#death #death of the endless #death appreciation week #the sandman comic #the sandman #the sandman fic #death fic #wanda #wanda the sandman #death x wanda #sandman angst #sandman fluff #sandman wlw #wlw #wlw fic

13 notes · View notes