Variant Loki crashing when he sees fake wife in traditional asgardian robes

FROM THE VOID, WITH LOVE  |  a time disguise

summary: you prepare to test the theory.

pairing: loki / f!reader

a/n: this is a fun concept to play with and lemme tell you, i am having a ball with the now frustrated loki and clueless doc. it's great. here's some build up before we see prince loki, our favorite boy. this is shorter than usual! this gif is by @theavengers from this set! a little (WINK) reference.

[   MASTERPOST   ]

Mobius knows this is a bad idea.

God. It's such a bad idea.

Arguably the worst idea he's ever had — or, well... The worst idea he's ever let you have and helped follow through on.

Ravonna is going to have his head on a silver platter.

Not only for purposely diverging a moment in the Sacred Timeline, regardless of pruning, but for actually waltzing on down to the Evidence floor and digging up little disguises for himself, Loki, and you.

This is ridiculous.

(They're from an Asgardian cultural inquest, back before the Gorsbach Incident which effective implemented strict armor and uniform mandates across the organization.

There's a set of royal armor which Mobius lets Loki commandeer, just so he can keep his face covered, and servant robes which Mobius himself hops into. The last piece is gown that you are currently wrestling with behind the shelves, away from prying eyes.)

Mobius is two beats from calling this whole thing off when you finally give a little sigh of relief and round the corner of the Evidence Section 68-9A — and he can feel Loki's sudden shift in composure.

His armor is heavy and as he shifts from boot to boot it tinkers.

The helmet covers his mop of hair well enough that a quick glance doesn't scream God of Mischief — but Mobius can see his expression well enough to know the God is impressed. Or, is that... interest?

The TVA Agent smirks to himself.

He'll be surprised, frankly, if the Royal Prince of Asgard doesn't ask for a dance.

The gown is intricate — belted at the waist with gilded embellishments and and a delicate heart-shaped neckline that sits neatly across your décolletage. It's clearly something a noble-person would wear. The form beats the function. The off-the-shoulder sleeves attached to the bodice billow out by your hands.

Flowing. Pretty.

Regal.

(This feels like a cruel joke to Loki.)

Mobius grins. "Well, don't you look nice."

"It's a bit tight," you inhale and gesture to the bodice, "But it works."

Loki clears his throat beside Mobius. "I thought you hated green."

"I do," you remind him gently and gather the long, emerald, chiffon skirt in your hands. You slip your eyes over his current outfit and hum, "Never took you for the knightly type."

He feels hot under your gaze.

"Oh, please. It's Royal armor," he mutters, "And it's heavy. Can we get this over with? Our dear Doctor, robbing the cradle—"

"You're only two hundred years younger where we're going," you gawk, slapping at the gauntlet on his wrist, "Stop making it weird."

"I am young and naive. And arrogant."

"Gee, I'm glad the arrogance withstood the test of time."

Loki narrows his eyes at you. "Mind your manners, my Lady."

It's a low croon.

He watches as you push past him in a brush of skirts, eyes rolling in their sockets — and the open back of the gown has him rolling his jaw. He pulls his gaze away and catches Mobius smirking. The God decides to ignore the look; pursuing that line of questioning would only dig his hole deeper.

"Are we quite ready?" he asks instead, "I am still a bit upset we decided to test this theory first—"

Mobius, in his rather casual set of woolen garments, scoffs. He procures his Time Door device and rocks back on his heels.

"Everyone know the plan?" he asks, "We'll only have about 32 minutes in there, but it's subject to change depending on how much of a ripple we cause. I'll have the reset charge on me. We stick together. Got it?"

That last bit was directed at Loki.

You and Mobius watch him.

Green eyes flash between you both.

His voice is incredulous.

"Why are you both look at me like that?"

And off to Asgard you go.

White [Jumin Fanfic]

⚠ Content Warning ⚠ Some Angst

Writing Type Prose

Character (Mystic Messenger, Cheritz) Jumin (Focus)

Word Count 1,885

Date 4 October 2018

Author's Notes Originally written for an Amino event for Jumin's Birthday (first posted on MM Amino, then on Otome Amino).

Tagging @juminweek because I realised it touches on a couple of the prompts too: Day 1 (Elizabeth the 3rd); Day 2 (Childhood & Friendship); Day 3 (Common Life); Day 5 (Emotions); Day 7 (Birthday & Family). O____O Did I just cheated by doing multiple-in-one?

"Child Jumin" is used as a theme, but is not the sole Jumin that appears. White, associated with the innocence and purity of "childhood", is used as a motif.

Timeline of major events in Jumin's life is made up. Fanfic begins under the cut.

White is the frills on his mother's dress.

Light footsteps echoed excitedly along the stairway as little Jumin cautiously climbed up the staircase leading to his mother's bedroom. He did not understand why his mother no longer stayed in the same bedroom as his father, and he did not think it important to understand the reason behind. After all, his mother was still with him — that was all that mattered.

"Mommy!" Once the four-year-old reached the upper floor of the mansion he lived in, Jumin dashed excitedly toward his mother's room, his bright red Man of Iron school bag slapping against his tiny back rhythmically with every stride he took.

It was Jumin's birthday and he just returned from the day care centre where he had a modest birthday celebration with the other children. Even though the simple gifts of balloons and birthday card pale in comparison to the extravagant items that his parents always give him, he was still eager to share about his special day with his mother.

"Mom-" Jumin was about to knock on the nicely polished wooden door when he realised his mother's bedroom door was ajar. His heart sank at what he saw through the gap; his mother was sitting on the single bed, tear stricken and gripping tightly onto torn pieces of what was once a beautiful white silk gown.

He did not understand why his mother cried over a torn white gown, and he did not think it important to understand the reason behind. After all, his mother was still with him — that was what he naively believed.

That night, he made his only birthday wish before going to bed.

"I wish mommy be happy."

White is the cream on his birthday cake.

He watched blankly as his shadow cast silently over the vanilla cream topping on the round cake, where a big unlit candle was placed precisely at the centre. The digital clock in the living room showed the date '5 October', and although the moon was already hanging high in the night sky, everything that had been laid out on the dining table since morning were still in their original, untouched conditions — including a note sitting conspicuously on top of a huge box wrapped in an limited edition Man of Iron gift paper.

The note, while pleasant to the touch, contained a cruelly brief message: "Happy birthday, my son."

Soon, the date on the clock changed. Jumin's lips trembled lightly as he closed his eyes and sighed. Then, he stood up from the chair and turned to instruct their housekeeper - the only other person who was with him in the kitchen the entire day - to clear the dining table. Already accustomed to this annual routine ever since Chairman Han divorced Jumin's mother, the housekeeper proceeded to do as told.

Putting his hands into his trouser pockets for warmth, Jumin made his way back to his bedroom in the empty mansion slowly. En route, he could not help stealing a few glances in the direction of the front door. He was unsure of what he was expecting — after all, his father never did come home until the late wee hours.

Closing the wooden door lightly behind him, he stood alone in the unlit bedroom. He recalled that the housekeeper mentioned his father had prepared the table with the birthday cake and presents early in the morning before rushing out to attend to matters at the company.

"Work?" The dark haired boy buried his face into the pillow as he climbed into bed, warm tears staining its cover. "What a lie."

White is the mask on his face.

"Hope you've enjoyed your birthday!" A group of teenage boys, still in their white school uniforms, spoke gleefully as they walked out of a karaoke bar together.

"Thank you," Jumin smiled and politely thanked his classmates for arranging a birthday celebration for him. This group of male friends were his high school classmates for the past three years. They had planned small birthday celebrations for Jumin every year, and each time Jumin thanked them, they would happily reply "It's our pleasure!"

"Man, I hope we can still sing a few more songs!" The boys continue to chat as they walked toward the pavement. "Haha! If we sing any more, we'll miss the last bus home!"

Amidst their boisterous laughter, a car honk was heard. A teal haired teenager in the group gently pat Jumin's broad shoulder and said, "Your driver is here."

Jumin glanced at the familiar white luxurious car parked by the roadside kerb before looking back at him and nodded. "Let's go."

As their classmates bid them good night, the duo walked side by side and made their way toward the car where Jumin's driver was waiting patiently.

"Mr. Jumin, Mr. Jihyun," the driver greeted professionally as the car door opened automatically on Jumin's approach, and the two teenagers occupied the passenger seats with swift, practised coordination. Once the pair of best friends buckled on their seat belts, the driver started the car engine and drove quietly away from the karaoke bar and in the direction of their destination.

As the white car continued to travel along the quiet streets under the blanket of stars, its interior was illuminated periodically as it passed by street lamps that were situated at regular intervals on the side pavement. That created a curious illusion of the passengers' white uniforms blinking.

"Jumin." The teal haired boy spoke.

"Hmm?"

"Are you happy?"

"..." A silent pause. "I don't know."

White is the coat on his cat.

Upon entering his penthouse, the young man placed the silver keys on the coffee table before heading straight to the bedroom where his beloved cat was waiting for him.

"Ah, my Elizabeth the 3rd," Jumin knelt down and gently combed through Elizabeth's beautiful soft white fur. "Apologies for returning home slightly late today."

Elizabeth purred as she let herself enjoy Jumin's affectionate touch.

"Let me prepare your dinner," Jumin spoke as he stood up, removing his black jacket and tie, and walked toward the small food counter in his bedroom. As he poured top-grade cat food into a red food bowl and then some red wine into a wine glass, he continued his one-sided conversation with Elizabeth, "How's your day been? Were you feeling bored?"

The white house cat sniffed at the food as Jumin laid the filled bowl in front of her on the floor. Then, she began to dig in.

"I've been rather busy today," Jumin took a sip of the red wine he poured as he pat Elizabeth's head. He then slowly recounted his day to her, just like he had done so every night ever since he received her from his best friend, Jihyun. "On my way to the office this morning, I received 68 birthday greetings from employees who saw me. I received a further 138 birthday wishes via e-mails. My father arranged a meal with me as usual at a grand hotel where we had a twelve-course lunch that lasted three hours."

Elizabeth continued to nibble on her cat food as she listened to Jumin's soothing deep voice.

"Guess what did my father give me as my birthday present this year?" Jumin smiled gently at Elizabeth, his eyes soft and loving as he looked at her. "He said he's pleased with how I'm handling the company as a Director. So, he's going to pull more investments into the cat project I proposed a while back."

Elizabeth's ears twitched instinctively when she heard the word "cat", and she briefly looked up at Jumin, her crystal blue eyes meeting his glistening grey eyes.

"Did you hear that, Elizabeth the 3rd?" He chuckled a little as he shyly covered his tearful eyes with his hand. It was not uncommon for Jumin to show his emotions in front of Elizabeth, but he still found it awkward and wrong to display his feelings openly, even if it was only in front of his beloved cat in private. "The cat project in your honour is now supported by my father too."

Done with her dinner, Elizabeth purred softly and rubbed herself against Jumin's legs, against his black trousers and socks.

"You're happy about it, aren't you?" Jumin took another sip of red wine from the wine glass as he let Elizabeth snuggle against his legs. In quiet amusement, he observed Elizabeth's white fur strands sticking to his trousers. "Thank you."

White is the frame on his Polaroid film.

"Alright, everyone! Look here and say cheese!" With a wave of his hand, Jihyun instructed everyone present to look in the direction of his camera. Within a few seconds of countdown, and with a quick flash of light, a group photograph of all six RFA members who had gathered to celebrate Jumin's birthday was taken.

"Let's cut the cake!" Yoosung clapped in excitement.

"Jumin should make his birthday wishes before blowing out the candles!" Seven took Yoosung aside before the latter could get near the plastic cake knife.

"Ah," Yoosung smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Come, Jumin," MC gently locked her arm around Jumin's. "You should make a wish."

Jumin gave MC's hand a light pat before closing his eyes and making his wish in silent thought.

"What do you think Jumin wished for?" Yoosung whispered, curiosity unconcealed in his tone.

"Hopefully something for the benefit of his employees," Jaehee sighed in response.

"Well, Trust Fund Kid already has everything," Zen shrugged. "I can't imagine what else he could wish for."

"Whatever he wished for," Jihyun looked at his best friend whom he had known since childhood. Even though Jumin had grown taller, his shoulders had grown broader, and his facial features had grown more masculine, he still wore the same untainted pair of eyes. Through his grey eyes, Jihyun could see the child in Jumin — the child who had the same tenacity as the Man of Iron. "I'm sure it'll be good."

Everyone cheered and clapped when Jumin opened his eyes after having made his wish and puffed the candle flame out. The day proceeded in hustle and bustle, and soon, it was time for everyone to go back home.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" MC asked Jumin once the two of them entered their comfortable abode.

"Of course, my wife," Jumin planted a gentle kiss on MC's forehead. "Thank you for planning the party for me."

MC giggled while replying that he definitely deserved a decent birthday celebration. "Hmm," MC spoke as she picked up Elizabeth, who had sprang out of the master bedroom soon after she heard them entering the penthouse, and caressed her soft fur. "So, what did you wish for?"

A smile formed on Jumin's lips when he noticed how peacefully Elizabeth was snuggling in MC's arms. "You're curious?" He raised an eyebrow at MC as he combed through Elizabeth's white fur.

MC looked up at Jumin and nodded earnestly.

"Well," Jumin blushed as he first looked at his beloved wife and then at his beloved cat cradled in her arms. His voice dropped to a soft whisper when he articulated the wish that he had made earlier at his birthday party —

"I wish us to be happy."

White is the page on his new life chapter with you.

Time be damned

Characters: Steve Rogers/James “Bucky” Barnes, hinted Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Howard Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Clint Barton

Summary: He comes from the future he says. He hands them a set of coordinates. Tells them to meet him there at the time on the bottom of the page. He makes them promise they won’t tell Captain Rogers a word.

Warnings: Mentions of Canon-Compliant Character Deaths

He comes from the future he says.

It’s the only thing he tells Howard and Peggy when he stands in front of them in Howard’s laboratory. He wants to talk to them about Steve and their future. When they don’t believe him, he tells them, that there are very many types of fondue in the future.

It would have made Peggy blush if she was like that but she composes herself and looks at the man.

He wears a weird beard and has dark hair. His clothes are strange and nothing any of them has ever seen before.

He floats when the long red cape behind him blows in a non-existent breeze.

He hands them a set of coordinates. Tells them to meet him there at the time on the bottom of the page.

He makes them promise they won’t tell Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes or any other soul a word. This was a secret just for the two of them. Peggy is still not sure if she trusts him, but the comment about the fondue gives him the benefit of the doubt. Steve would have never revealed it, if he wouldn’t trust this man. And no one but her, Steve and Howard knew about that story anyways.

A few weeks later, the Howling Commandos come back from a mission, bringing in Doctor Armin Zola. Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes are absent. Falsworth tells the two of them what happened. A few hours later, Peggy finds Steve in a bombed out bar in the next town here in south France.

Two days before the meeting Steve dives his plane into the ice. Howard wants to keep looking for his friend, contemplates not going, but Peggy drags him along. The man was from the future after all. He would know what just happened. That’s her reasoning and Howard thinks she is right.

They make their way to the coordinates on the paper.

The man, and three other people wait for them, in the outskirts of London. They are waiting in front of a warehouse.

“These are my… colleagues.” He points at a robot in red and gold; a woman, almost naked, in skin-tight black leather with fiery red hair and a man, blonde in black and purple, bow and arrows on his back.

The man makes them follow. He is walking this time and makes a few complicated gestures, glowing symbols appearing in the air. Peggy pegs him for a wizard. She feels a headache coming on. The future seems to be full of strange people, if that really is where they are coming from.

“Where are we going?” Howard asks and the robot turns around. Its face opens to reveal a man. It’s a helmet; a suit. He looks a lot like Howard, Peggy thinks but keeps it to herself.

“We help you change history for the better.” He replies curtly and turns back.

“Then why did I have to come? Not the Commandos or someone?” Howard asks, slightly annoyed.

The glowing in the air opens a door in front of them and they enter a room. It is like standing in Stark Expo, surrounded by technology that no one could believe to be real before seeing it with their own eyes, and apparently everything worked.

“Because you are one of the few people who could appreciate my genius.” The armored man mutters smugly as he sees Howard looking around in awe. Peggy meanwhile is still skeptical towards them.

In the middle of the room is a big, white coffin-like box. When Peggy gets closer she gasps, turns around and glaring at the strange people from the future.

“What have you done to him?” she snaps. She knew about the place this man held in Steve’s big heart. She would gladly have shared Steve with Barnes, if it meant making Steve happy. After all they were the only two people to see the heart under the muscle.

“We have done nothing. He fell from the train as you know.” The wizard begins. “When he had been taken prisoner in Azzano, he had been experimented on, much like the Captain had been, only it hadn’t been his own choice.”

The woman takes over, motioning Peggy closer to the coffin.

“He survived the fall thanks to the faulty serum Armin Zola had given him.”

“In a future where we’re from, he becomes the greatest assassin of all times, controlled by the Russians and later a new generation of HYDRA.” The archer adds and Peggy stares at him.

“He killed you later. He didn’t know any better. He was brainwashed and tortured.” The armored man says, looking at Howard.

“We went to get him, after his fall but we can change history only so much. There are rules.” The magician continues calmly. “He lost his arm, we gave him a new one. You will not be able to get back into this room again when we leave. You cannot access this technology before it is time.”

“You do needed to know how grave the situation is. Keep a close eye on Zola, or HYDRA will grow a head again, where Steve just cut it off.” The woman says and Steve’s name rolls easy from her tongue as if it’s one of the most normal things in the world. Peggy doesn’t know what makes her trust these people now. But maybe it’s the way she hears the woman talk about Steve and sees the obvious affection and how the woman’s glance always lingers on Barnes’s coffin for a second, protective and caring.

“Is Steve alive as well?” Peggy asks, because she always had the suspicion that Steve wouldn’t die easy and if Barnes was alive after getting a faulty serum and falling off the train, Steve could be alive as well?

“You know he can’t refuse when the world is calling for help. But I advise you against waiting for him. Live a happy life like he will always want it for you and shape the world to make him proud. For now he is dead and will be for a long time.”

“Do not look for him. He will be found when the time is come.” The wizard says, when dust whirls up in the room and something resembling a portal appears.

Peggy turns to the woman, because she knows time will be up soon.

“Why did you tell and show us all that? Why not just change it and go back?”

“It was their wish. They wanted you both to know that the future will be alright.” She shrugs smiling. “And you asked me to make them happy. No matter the cost. It was your choice. Strange probably has his own reasons, but he rarely reveals them.”

Peggy nods. Changing the past sounds like something she could consider one day, if it meant, seeing Steve happy for once.

The portal begins to glow green. Peggy and Howard take a step back and Peggy realizes it is time for Howard and her to leave. The red-haired woman smiles and makes a dismissive gesture at them and Peggy drags Howard out of the room.

When the door falls closed behind them and they turn around to look at it, the door is gone.

(Inside, Clint looks at Tony.

“Who will kill him now?”

“A Black Widow. The red room starts earlier because they don’t have a subject for Project Winter Soldier.”  Tony looks through the files on his phones. “It says, Natasha killed her in Odessa.”

“I’ll probably remember that encounter when we’re back in our time. Come on, boys. We got a wedding to attend.”

“So all Winter Soldier kills were now made by Widows?” Clint clarifies when Natasha had left through the portal. Tony nods solemnly.

“History won’t change much. Most events will happen, no matter how much you try to stop them from happening. But you can tweak things a little, if you are careful.” Strange says, then motions Tony and Clint back towards their new, altered timeline. Natasha was right. They got to attend the Rogers-Barnes wedding. And even time-travelers could be late.)

When they round the warehouse later in the light of day, the room doesn’t exist.

And Peggy is fine with it…

… after a while. She pulls herself together and when she meets her future husband (not that she knows that at the time), she begins to fall in love again. After all, she sometimes needs to tell herself, time-travelers know what they are doing, right? And in her heart she knows that she’d see them together again, one day. James Barnes and Steve Rogers as the pair they are.

Some days were hard. Full of the thoughts of Steve somewhere frozen, asleep and not knowing that Bucky is alive, not being assured everything will be fine like she was after his death.

Yes, some days it hurts, but most days, she is fine. And some days, she even tells her daughter Stephanie Jamie stories about how brave her uncles were, sacrificing themselves, that they could live this happy live they have.

“You are named after two of the bravest men I knew.” She sometimes says to her and then louder, that her husband in the kitchen will hear, “except for your father, of course.” And he will chuckle but admit every time that he maybe never will be as brave as Captain America and his trusty Partner, Sargent Barnes. But that is fine because in the end it was Captain Rogers who pulled him out of Azzano and gave him the chance to meet Peggy Carter. No hard feelings about an ex in his book.

And even if Peggy stands there in 1944, frustrated, with no plan and only a shadow of knowledge of what the future will hold, wishing they would have brought Steve back to her, deep inside she knows, the future will be fine.

Captain America would come back when earth needs him most. And for now it is her place to make sure he will have allies when the time comes.

~ 68 years later ~

Steve wakes up, eyes focusing on the white ceiling over him. Next to him someone clears their throat.

“Awake at last?”

He sits up straight and looks to the side.

“Is this heaven?”

The clear laugh fills his chest with warmth.

“If this would be heaven, I wouldn’t be here, that’s for sure. But it’s not the forties either, pal. We’ve missed almost seventy years. At least that’s what Howard’s kid and Peggy’ve been tellin’ me when they woke me up.”

“Woke you up? Howard’s what?” Steve turns completely, legs dangling over the side of the bed and he looks straight into clear blue eyes. Bucky does not look a day older than when he fell, but Steve notices the arm that doesn’t add up with his memories.

“I remember falling. Then I woke up. There was this man, he says his name is Tony Stark and he is from the future. He’s telling me I lost my arm during the fall and he just makes sure I will have one when I wake up. I’ve asked about you and he shushed me and told me to sleep, they will wake me, when you’re back. And they did. They told me it took you almost seventy years to come back from your mission. So I’ve been asleep for a while as well.”

That wasn’t everything that they told him, but some of it he rather keeps to himself for now. After all Steve had just woken up and always been a bit slow on the uptake in the morning. Bucky shifts from the chair onto the bed, next to Steve. Pulls him into his side and gives him a smirk.

“I told you, we were going to the future. Just a bit further than we thought.” He says chuckling and Steve doesn’t care in that moment. He surges forward and presses his lips against Bucky’s because a week ago he saw Bucky fall from a train and just hours ago steered his plane into the freezing cold water of the Arctic, ready to die to save the world.

And maybe he had been ready to die to be reunited with Bucky. Because that was what his whole transformation into Captain America had always been about to Steve. If this was real, he was quite happy not to be dead. So the future can wait, he thinks, when Bucky’s lips move against his. What’s important is that they are here together now, time be damned.

Future Dreamboat

Pairing: Time Traveller/40’s!Dean x 40’s!Reader

Summary: Based on 07x12 – Time After Time so yeah. Dean gets thrown back in time, when he needs a break he asks Eliot Ness, where the nearest bar is. A woman is in an alley that needs someone’s help, which just so happens to be Dean’s.

Warnings: Mentions of inappropriate touching

Word Count: 1445

A/N – This is my second entry for @demondeanismybaby’s Which One Are You Challenge with the quote: ‘aren’t you a handsome son of a gun,’ which has been highlighted below. This could also be an entry to my own challenge because no one snagged it so why not?

Dean was thrown back in time, quite literally, he was sent to the 1940; 1944 to be exact. It was a time of danger, anywhere anyone went. Luckily, Dean knew how to handle himself, until he ended up in jail that was. The police search Dean and find an issued police badge from 2012 which happened to be 68 years into the future.

He didn’t know until he was cuffed to a table, he wasn’t in there for long, one of his heroes – Eliot Ness – is aware of the hunting world. Thankfully, Eliot released Dean.

Since the two men found out they were hunters, they joined forces, together they could defeat the monster of their time; Chronos.

The first stop, though, Eliot had suggested, was to a tailors. It would be better for Dean not to stick out like a sore thumb.

Ezra Moore. She was Eliot’s trusted tailor. Now Dean could tell that she was a character but she was definitely good at her. Ezra had shoved Dean into the dressing room where she had prepared clothes. In the dressing room, he was outfitted in a sleek navy suit. A white dress shirt paired with black and blue patterned tie. The waistcoat that adorned his torso complimented the suit as well as the brown suede dress shoes that he wore.

Even Dean’s hair had a side parting and was smoothed over to the right side of his face.

‘Well, aren’t you a handsome son of a gun.’ Ezra had admired Dean as he stepped through the curtains separating him from the tailor and the other hunter.

Dean smiled, appreciating the attention, as Eliot whistled at the transformation. Glancing at his right, he had to do a double take, catching a glimpse of himself in the reflective glass. Waltzing over the the body length mirror, taking in the new look. Of course, he had worn a suit before but never a three piece with his hair worn like this. Ezra was behind him, smoothing out the back of the suit jacket that was slightly creased.

The tailor walked around Dean and swiped a hand over his clothes, he deducted that, although he couldn’t see any more creases, she knew what she was doing or she was just used to patting down everyone’s smart attire.

Your floral knee length dress attracted the attention of unwanted men, even though there was a war going on, they we more focused on making a pass at you and trying to bed you. Anything that would get them into your unmentionables.

They would start by calling you ‘baby-doll’ a term of endearment or affection that you thought should only be used between a couple. To you, hearing that, especially coming from a few of those that were inebriated most of the time. There was no escaping them. On your way back to your home, was the saloon, it held all people some of them you had seen often and they were all the same, but you didn’t know what hurt most; when they called you a cold fish or a call-girl. None of them were flattering in the slightest.

You were either at one end of the spectrum or at the complete opposite. Being a woman, you can’t win in a world like this, not if you are with someone and have that protection, otherwise you were just another broad, another piece of meat that they could devour without having a care in the world.

There has been a few occassions where there have been a couple of creeps get a little to close and way too handsy. Tonight was one of those times. Men; they were pigs, thought with their downstairs brain and more concerned about getting some action rather than respecting another person, no less a woman.

You leant his name to be David, from the hollers of his companions from outside of the tavern. It was a little more quieter, you thought it was going to be one of the better nice, where you wouldn’t be harrassed. But the footsteps behind you alerted you that today was not to be one of those times.

Dean had asked Eliot if there was a bar nearby and there happened to be one only ten minute walk from where they were. The Winchester hunter’s head was adorned with grey fedora and most of his body from the waist down was covered in a long grey coat.

Strolling the pathway, side by side, Eliot and Dean exchange their stories so far about the hunting life in different time. There wasn’t many differences, much to both of their surprise. Only the technology and the hybrid species in the future that was about it, but Dean couldn’t reveal anymore, Sam would kill him about altering the timeline. Not that it matter with the amount of times they had already done it, and came back from the dead.

‘Please. Stop! I told you I don’t want to! Please.’

The two men had heard as they neared the bar that Dean had requested to go to. In an alleyway, they saw a woman pushed against the brick wall. Her eyes clenched shut as the man pressing near her had his hands on an inappropriate place, travelling almost deviously up and under the skirt of her dress.

‘Hey! What do you think you’re doing? The lady said no.’

His deep voice was enough for Dean not to shout, enough to intimidate the guy without raising his voice.

'What’s it to you, fella? I think you just keep walking and find your own gal.’ The woman’s eyes were closed, tears threatening to fall as she hovered from foot to foot. The back of her one and a half inch heels hitting the wall as the man hovered too close to her.

'She is my girl, so get your dirty paws off of her.’ Dean stalked over, an angry glint in his eye. Eliot stood on the outside of alley, letting Dean take the lead of the incident.

Without speaking any more, the guy took a step away from the damsel. Dean threw back his elbow and brought his fist forward to collide with the man’s nose, breaking it on impact.

Whimpering and moaning, the man scrambled back before running passed Dean and eventually passed Eliot, barging into Ness’ shoulder, not bothering to apologise as he held a palm to his crimson dripping nose.

When Dean was sure that it was only he, Eliot and the girl, Dean kept a respectable distance with his hands in the air, showing that he was no threat to the girl.

She was still. Unmoving. To scared to move in fear that he would be like the other monster of a man. He waved off Eliot, silently communicating that should deal with the man whilst Dean would help the girl.

‘My name is Dean. I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart. What’s your name?’

‘My name? My name is Y-Y/N. He’s-he’s not coming back is he?’ Y/N worried, her delicate hands fisting at her cardigan and pulling it tighter around her body.

‘Hey Y/N,’ Dean had calmly murmured, still gaining her attention. His callous yet soft fingers grazed hers, it seemed like her panic had wound her up so much that the contact had caused her to fall into Dean’s arms. ‘He’s not going to hurt you anymore. I’m right here. I’ll drop you home, make sure you’re safe.’

‘Thank you.’

Dean had tucked you under his arm as he led you to the apartment that you called home. There was something different about Dean, besides the fact that he made your insides warm and made you feel safe, he wasn’t like the other men, He was a dreamboat that was for sure but he still valued women as equals.

The walk, now that you were with Dean, was miles too short for your liking. Climbing the stairs, you didn’t let go of Dean but he had the right idea following you inside and getting you settled into your own house.

He had sat you on your couch as he boiled water over the stove and made you a hot beverage, wrapped you in a blanket before smoothly stalking through your aprtment to your bedroom, seeking a nightgown and robe. He handed them to you, telling you to give him a shout when you had changed into your nightwear.

‘Where did you come from?’ You muttered under your breath. There was no way that this man was real.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, Y/N.’ You could see the pain on his face as a bittersweet smile arose.

Lemme know what you think…  

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How Hair, Makeup Team Age Mandy Moore for ‘This Is Us’ – Variety

“America has been tortured enough already.” But alas, not Mandy Moore. It’s the last day of filming on Season 2 of “This Is Us,” and for the sixth time on the finale’s eight-day shooting schedule, Moore begins her day in the hair-and-makeup trailer, girded for the three-hour process that will turn the 33-year-old actress into the 68-year-old Rebecca. Moore estimates she’s gone through the transformation more than 30 times — 20 this season alone. Not that she’s complaining about it. “I love that I’m given this opportunity to play this character from 25 to 68,” she says. “That’s so unheard of. So I don’t begrudge the process that comes along with it.” The finale chronicles the wedding day of Rebecca’s daughter, Kate (Chrissy Metz), and Toby (Chris Sullivan), which means the present-day action calls for Moore’s near-daily transformation. Given the death of her husband, Jack (Milo Ventimiglia), Moore’s Rebecca is the only character who exists in all of the show’s multiple timelines: from the 1980s when she and Jack first meet, through the ’90s when they’re juggling tweens (her favorite age, she admits) and then teenagers, to the present, where she’s remarried and trying to resolve long-simmering issues with her three adult children.

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“It’s such an honor to be the glue of this family,” she says. “I feel a tremendous amount of responsibility.” Playing older Rebecca she says is the most challenging age, not just because of the labor-intensive process but also because of the deep-seated emotion it inevitably carries. “If I’m in age makeup, something dramatic has happened,” she says. “I’m being confronted by my son about the fact that I’ve been lying to him, meeting his biological father and pretending I don’t know him, talking about the anniversary of my husband’s death.” Even amid all of the show’s mysteries, the transformation is “one of the most asked-about questions,” she says. The hair-and-makeup trailer is well lived in, fitted with six chairs for the actors and crammed with mementos of an intense season. Taped on the walls are photos of the cast in a range of stages (tracking Jack’s famously fluctuating facial hair), as well as a chart listing their relative ages through the show’s complicated timeline. Jack’s stops abruptly in 1992. There’s a jubilant feeling of senioritis in the air — everyone’s talking about the wrap party, set for the following night. The set is also abuzz about paparazzi photos that were leaked the day before, and crew members debate camera angles to try to identify the culprit. Throughout the morning, other stars filter in and out of the trailer — Metz, Justin Hartley (Kevin), Caitlin Thompson (Madison). Ventimiglia is on set, too, even though he’s not filming, to lend his support: “Someone made some money,” he says regretfully of the spoiler-laden photos. They’re accustomed to Moore’s lengthy stay in the trailer, but they know all too well their time might also be coming. We’ve gotten a glimpse of future Randall, which means Sterling K. Brown spent about four hours being transformed. He’s on deck for another session later in the day. And those leaked photos revealed that another of the show’s stars had his turn too. “It gives me a kernel of satisfaction that other people now know what it’s like,” says Moore with a sly smile. Moore arrives in the trailer promptly at her call time of 8 a.m, her long brown hair still wet from a shower, clad in a robe, jeans and Uggs and carrying boxes of croissants from a favorite bakery. (None for her, though — she’s gluten-free.) On cue, hairstylist Katherine Rees first offers her conditioner, then Advil. It’s not that she’s hungover; she’s preparing for the headache that inevitably comes as her hair gets pinned up ever so tightly. Moore gratefully accepts the pills as hair department head Michael Reitz wraps her hair around her head to fit under the wig cap, the first and easiest step in what will ultimately be a nearly three-hour-long odyssey. Fifteen minutes later, she moves to the makeup chair for a far longer haul, and turns on the timer on her phone, ever hopeful that this time things just might be quicker. Crafting the right look for older Rebecca was an ordeal of its own, with several tests that went too far — inflated lips, a floppy neck waddle, long gray hair. “We went to 12 and had to bring it back down to 6,” says makeup department head Zoe Hay, who’s worked on shows like “The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story.” “We came at it with the least we could do, but had to keep stepping it up to find what really works.” Paramount to the effort was maintaining a sense of continuity about Rebecca’s naturalistic style. Twentysomething Rebecca might be more playful with color (“A young woman would experiment with how she looks,” says Hay), but as she ages, she settles down into more neutral, safer choices. What solved the problem were some leftover prosthetics from makeup artist Stevie Bettles that Hay happened to have in her trailer from a recent commercial shoot. They’re impossibly thin silicone stickers, color-matched to Moore’s skin and placed precisely around her face and neck.

“Her gestures are completely different … in terms of there having been a fair amount of tragedy and sadness in her life. She carries it all. And that was not something I ever discussed with her.” Dan Fogelman

She can still emote through them — an important detail, given all of the crying Rebecca is wont to do — though Moore reveals she doesn’t know when tears are running down her face. “It’s a very weird sensation,” she says. “Sterling told me I was crying last night, but I couldn’t feel it.” The team knew it had finally found the right look when Moore shot a scene with Ron Cephas Jones (William), who’s 61, and it played seamlessly, as if she were truly the same age as he. “This Is Us” showrunner Dan Fogelman says he briefly considered casting two actors for the role (à la “The Crown,” which is replacing Claire Foy with Olivia Colman as the queen ages), but that scene with Jones proved he was right to trust his “gut instinct” of letting Moore pull it off alone. “Her gestures are completely different; her voice changes; her shoulders carry the weight of a life lived hard — not in terms of drugs or alcohol, but in terms of there having been a fair amount of tragedy and sadness in her life,” he says. “She carries it all. And that was not something I ever discussed with her.” Before the prosthetics can be applied, though, Hay — along with makeup artist Elisabeth Chang — begins the process of wrinkling Moore’s normally clear, smooth skin, painting on speckles and age spots and delicately applying an ager onto her skin and hands that will form lines and creases. As one dabs, the other pulls her skin tightly; Moore’s coloring turns red as they poke and prod. (Removing it all at the end of the day will take another 45 minutes to protect her skin: “We call it the devil’s glue,” says Chang.) It’s a well-choreographed dance; Hay and Chang are careful not to bump into each other in the cramped trailer, and Moore doesn’t need to be directed which way to turn her face, when to stick her thumb in her mouth to stretch it out, or when to turn herself nearly upside down in her chair, so they can paint under her neck. “The first time I was like, ‘You want me to do what?’” she says, laughing. They move painstakingly from her eyes to her forehead to her lips, where Hay paints on additional delicate lines, erasing the lips’ natural edge. “Smoke and mirrors,” she says. After an hour, they take a 10-minute break before moving on to the prosthetics — there are 10 in all. (Four for her eyes, two for her laugh lines, two jowls, one neck piece, one for the bridge of her nose.) “It’s like putting on a Band-Aid, but not quite,” says Hay as she peels each one off the board they’re all pinned on. After she carefully puts them in place, she brushes over them to melt them into Moore’s face and neck. The rest of her body is spared — if Moore has her way, we’ll never see older Rebecca’s legs or feet. “I hate wearing panty hose, but I will wear them every single time I have to be older Rebecca,” she says. Nor will we ever see her in a bathing suit. “That would have to be a body double,” she says with a laugh. One thing remains constant: Her nails at every age are always a light pink. “It’s the last thing I want to think about,” she says. They’ve had to navigate a few unforeseen challenges — when Hay broke her hand and three people had to fill in, or when Moore banged into the shower door, and they had to cover up her black eye. Luckily it was the Halloween episode, so Rebecca as Cher sported purple eyeshadow. Each character has a detailed bible with his or her history, and one crew member is tasked with maintaining continuity. Given the show’s tendency to jump back and forth in time and revisit past scenes, each look needs to be carefully tracked. When Hay is ready to put the tiny crow’s-feet prosthetics on Moore’s eyes, she yells out: “Eyes! We’re doing eyes!” That’s a signal for everyone to stop moving — no one steps in or out of the trailer as she applies the stickers. “The miracle is me not sticking myself to Mandy,” says Hay. “That may or may not have happened before.” Matching Moore’s face side to side is the trickiest part, and Moore points out that one eyelid feels heavier than the other. There can be no cheating. “They like to put the camera everywhere,” complains Hay. “The cameras are not our friends.” She inspects her work through a magnifying glass, looking for spots she might have missed. At least today’s shoot is indoors; daylight makes matters worse. “When they shoot outside, it gives me a heart attack,” she moans. And then Hay layers on the usual stage makeup, but she has one more trick up her sleeve: frosted eyeshadow. “It shows every wrinkle,” she explains. “You wouldn’t want it as an older woman, but it helps Mandy.” Finally it’s back to Reitz for the wig. With eight precisely planted pins and more application of glue, he secures the stylish yet age-appropriate bob on her head. Says Moore with a satisfied look in the mirror: “There she is.” Credit that senioritis: They’re done in near-record time, just under three hours, and Moore’s finally ready for her close-up. Director Ken Olin leads the cast through a rehearsal, figuring out their marks. It’s a short scene, but the quick exchange between Rebecca and Kate speaks volumes about the tension in their relationship. “Did I say something wrong?” Rebecca asks her sons after the encounter sends Kate marching out of the cabin. “I feel so bad for her,” Moore says of Rebecca after the scene has wrapped, over lunch in her trailer. (There’s a pizza truck on set, but she opts for a healthier salad of grains and fish.) “She’s so acutely aware that she ruffles Kate’s feathers, so she’s trying to be on her best behavior. I see myself a little bit in my relationship with my own mother. It’s very complicated.” And while audiences have focused on Jack and his death, Moore hopes that they’ll come to find sympathy for the character, too, even if she has made questionable choices. “I have a real soft spot for her,” she admits. “She’s just not the same. The life force is out of her eyes. Is it just Jack? It has to be, but she breaks my heart.”

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