when i went to a masquerade ball in my last college year

Just My Luck | Namjoon

Kim Namjoon | Fluff | Comedy | Slight Angst 

word count: 7k+

Sometimes your life felt almost too good to be true. You would be the first to vouch for your uncanny luck, the way things always seemed to miraculously work out in your favor was something you had just been blessed with. And sure maybe you should have listened to your grandma when she told you to be wary of things that were handed to you on a silver platter but you hadn’t expected some dumb kiss at a random party to switch your luck with a strangers, even she couldn’t have seen that one coming.

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A random superhero AU idea that I couldn’t get out of my head. Written at 2-3 am, so bear with me here. Feysand-ish

Feyre had been only six years old when she realized she could bring her drawings to life. As a child, she used her ability to make her imaginary friends real. Then she showed them to her sisters. Elain giggled and asked her to draw all kinds of cute things. Nesta told her she should hide it.

And she did, from most of the world. Her father only saw what he wanted to anyway.

But as she grew older, Feyre couldn’t help but notice the evil in the world. So she began to experiment. She worked on her skills, both artistic and powered, until she had perfected a system. A stack of cards, easily hidden, marked with her creations.

Feyre didn’t believe in super heroes, the ones in faraway cities who saved the day constantly. The summer before her first semester of college, she decided she could be the hero. She kept her cards hidden in a shoebox or tucked away in her purse. Elain designed her an outfit of her own. A black bodysuit, decorated with midnight blue markings. Her knee-high boots, belt and long gloves were the same shade of blue, along with the paintbrush clasp that held her golden cape around her shoulders. A golden masquerade mask, decorated in whorls and feathers, hid her identity.

Feyre personally thought it was ostentatious, but Elain was proud of her work. So she wore it. She began small, stopping muggers by summoning a wall and catching purse thieves with a cartoon like hole in the ground. When she stopped a bank robbery by summoning hell hounds to her aid, the media took notice. They dubbed her Tarot, guardian of the city of Velaris.

Feyre had to admit she felt pride in the title.

She continued her heroic acts over the summer. It was the night before classes started, and Feyre sat on a rooftop toying with one of her cards. A radio tuned to the right frequency would tell her where to go. Her mask laid beside her, Feyre found herself wondering how she would keep this up when classes started.

…suspect fleeing in white Honda sedan. Last seen at the corner of Rainbow Boulevard and Oak Street, heading towards the mountains.

She’d missed the crime, but if there is a chase going on she could help. Feyre activated the card in her hands, a Pegasus, and slipped on her mask. It hid most of her freckles, but her steel-blue eyes were still on full display.

The Pegasus was black as night with white stocking markings on each leg. The creature lowered it’s forelegs and Feyre climbed on. The next thing she knew the Pegasus had leapt off the building. As they fell Feyre felt of rush of fear and excitement, yelling her delight as the Pegasus levelled out and rushed towards the chase.

They caught up to them on the corner of Rainbow and Pine, the Pegasus landing gracefully on the hood of the car. Feyre found herself wondering about what kind of person would choose a Honda as their getaway car, but quickly focused on her task as the car swerved. Feyre summoned iron claws to wear on her fingers as the Pegasus timed out. She fell to the hood, lodging her iron nails in to the metal, as the car came to a screeching halt.

The police behind them quickly created a barrier. Feyre leapt off the hood, blocking the perps other exit.

Feyre took him in as he exited the car. A young man, wearing all black and a ski mask, left the car and started strolling towards the cops. Feyre thought he must be crazy if he thought that would work, but the cops did back away. Feyre realized why when his arms caught fire.

The perp blasted two of the cars, causing the cops nearest them to roll away from the possible explosion. Feyre cursed, then ran for the fire man. He turned, fire blazing in his eyes, just as she swiped at him with her iron nails. He dodged, taking a shot at her with flaming fists.

Feyre found herself on the defensive, until she got far enough away to summon another card. Wolves made of solid water formed, charging at the fire user as a pack. Steam rose, obscuring all their vision, as he blasted them one at a time,

Feyre went to use another card as the last wolf was eliminated. But the fire user reacted quickly, sending a stream of fire right to pack of cards hooked to her belt. She cursed, quickly removing her belt and throwing it away from her. She watched months of work burn away, and realized she was out of options.

“Poor little Tarot, what will she do now?” Feyre felt that blazing gaze on her as the man of fire walked towards her. The flame on his arms spread, covering his entire body. Suddenly, Feyre had the feeling that she was facing a demon.

“I suppose I’ll have to get creative.” Feyre shot back, not allowing her voice to tremble. “As you may have noticed, that’s one of my strong suits.”

The man smiled, a cruel, wicked smile. He shot balls of fire at her. Feyre did her best to dodge, and she succeeded, but she could feel the heat. It was getting to her. She was sweating, could feel herself getting tired. Worst of all, she was nearly out of ideas.

Feyre looked at the soot raining from the many fires the man had caused. She could draw with that, if only she had the chance. She’d need a miracle.

“There you are.” Feyre started at the voice behind her, smooth as silk. The fire wielder threw another ball of fire, only for it to be stopped by a shield of glittering night. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Feyre finally turned and, despite herself and the situation, felt herself stop dead at the sight of the man in front of her.

The first thing she saw was the wings. Black, membranous, beautiful wings. Then she saw the black hair, the tanned skin. Swirling black tattoos peeking out beneath the leather, sleeveless armor and black metal vambraces. She saw the amused smirk beneath the scaled, black mask, decorated with whorls of dark blue. Then, she saw the violet-blue eyes and the amusement dancing there.

Feyre was sure she had never met anyone as beautiful, and certainly wouldn’t meet someone who surpassed him. Then a animalistic growl tore her thoughts away from the newcomer and back towards the fire thrower.

“Who in the hell are you?” Their adversary snarled, clearly unhappy that the man dressed in black had so easily deflected him. The new comer just crossed his arms and raised a single perfect brow.

“Well, I’m rather new. Haven’t been given a name yet.” He smirked back at her, wings flaring out a bit. “I can only hope for one as lovely as Tarot darling’s.”

The perp scoffed at that. So the newcomer tilted his head and asked “And who, might you be?”

“I am the Phoenix.” It was Feyre’s turn to scoff, which caused “the Phoenix” to turn to her.”

“Come up with that all by yourself?” Feyre felt a surge of satisfaction when the Phoenix narrowed his eyes at her.

As much as I’m enjoying this exchange, we really should get back to the fighting. Any plans, Tarot darling?

Feyre quickly realized his voice was in her head. Don’t call me darling. She thought she heard laughter from the newcomer. Can you keep him distracted so I can draw something in the soot?

She saw the newcomer’s eyes go to the soot gathering in the street. Oh, you are as clever as you are beautiful. Quite the accomplishment.

Feyre groaned aloud as she made a dash for the soot. The Phoenix tried to shoot at her, but was stopped by the glittering night now rolling off of her fighting partner. She ignored their fight as she focused on what she would draw. First, she needed something to hold the Phoenix down. Then she could drop a cage on him.

So she began to draw with her finger, frowning as she got soot all over her sister’s handiwork. When she was done, she drew up the power to bring it to life. She had to use more, as the less detail in a drawing the more difficult it was to bring into the real world. But she managed, and a grizzly bear made of stone rose up from the street, charging at the Phoenix. He tried to defend himself, but his fire couldn’t melt stone. After the grizzly had him pinned, Feyre quickly drew a cage and trapped the Phoenix.

After that the cops put the Phoenix in the back of an armored truck, after pumping him full of a drug that would keep him knocked out, Feyre was able to get a pad and paper off of one of them. She sat on a curb, drawing her ride home, as one of them approached her.

“So, who’s your sidekick?” He asked, sipping from a coffee cup.

Smiling to herself at the mention of a sidekick, Feyre simply shook her head. “First time I’ve met him, so no idea.”

The cop hummed. “No name yet, then?”

Feyre shook her head, then voiced her thought out loud. “I think Night Wing would fit him well. What do you think?”

The cop smiled at her. “I think I’ll tell the press that’s his name when they come sniffing after a story.”

Feyre laughed and waved goodbye as the cops started dispersing. The man, Night Wing, strolled over to her with an amused smirk on his face.

“Night Wing, huh?” He leaned down, violet eyes dancing. “Come up with that all by yourself?”

“I thought you wouldn’t appreciated being called ‘that shadow guy’” Feyre raised a brow at him. “So, you’re welcome.”

“Mighty kind of you.” He stood straight as Feyre got up from her position on the curb. “I think I could deal with being a sidekick, if it means spending more time with you, Tarot darling.”

Feyre summoned the drawing, another dark as night Pegasus, and strolled towards the beast. Night Wing watched her as she swung herself on to it’s back.

“I’m flattered by your interest.” She looked down at the man, noticing the endless amusement on his face. “I’ll think about it.”

Then she took off, circling the sky before heading home. As she flew, Feyre swore she could her the echo of laughter in her head.

anonymous asked:

Can you write something where the team has to go undercover at a masquerade ball because the unsub is killing people and the team suspects that it's you, but Reid is falling for you and they sneak off. Then, someone dies and the team takes you into interrogation, but Reid is your alibi. Thanks! :)

(LOOK AT HIM *Dies* ignore the woman in the pictures) I’m sorry it took so long but my computer kept restarting halfway through my writing and i ended up so frustrated.


Contains: FLUFF


You squirmed in the cold metal chair, looking up uncomfortably at the tall, dark man that had introduced himself as SSA Derek Morgan. A police officer. from the FBI. You had been arrested.

Yep, not one of your finest days.

“Why am i here?” You asked, but he had put his hand up, silencing you. “I’ll be asking the questions here.“ You rolled your eyes and huffed in your seat, crossing your arms.

“Last night, you were at the Henderson’s fundraiser ball correct?” You nodded and he reached into the manilla folder he had had at his side, taking out a few pictures before sliding them across the table, the images being on the other side. He walked over to you from behind and turned them over, angrily pointing at massacred bodies. “Do you recognize these men?”

You groaned and turned away, trying to make the bile stay in your stomach. “ No! God no! That’s oh…that’s disgusting.”

“About the time you were supposedly at said ball, Charles Talpert went missing. He was found this morning with his head cut off. How would you explain that?”

“I was with someone all night!”

“Witnesses say you came alone, do you have a name for your ‘alibi’ that was preoccupying your time last night?”

“A name?…I never got his name.”


You had arrived at the ball, debating whether you should just pop-in, say hello to your mother’s friends so that she would know you went, and change into some causal clothes to get a burger instead of the Es Cargo the elaborate party would be serving. You hated snails.

You were living with your controlling mother as a young debutante. You couldn’t help you were apart of a rich family, but you spent your whole life fighting against getting all dolled up and forced to talk to the conceded airhead daughters of your mothers friends.

She couldn’t attend tonight, being sick. So she forced you to go, and wouldn’t stop until you agreed. You were attending college right now, trying to become an author, wanting to publish the millions of stories that cluttered endless notebooks scattered around your room.

She had already picked a dress and a complimentary mask for you to wear. You rolled your eyes and asked the maid if she could do your hair since it was your least favorite part.

An hour later and there you were, coming up the steps, already seeing some of your old ‘friends’ and their obnoxious and equally pompous dates. You stayed close to the wall, avoiding their gaze and successfully slipping by.

Distracted by making sure you had actually snuck away correctly, you had bumped into someone and tripped over your dress, falling down.

“I’m sorry-” You heard a male voice apologize and saw a hand reach out to help you. You accepted it, getting off the hard tile. You saw a tall, pale man with a black mask and suit, brown locks and eyes standing out. You were glad you had a mask to cover your blush.

“Don’t even apologize! I ran into you! I’m sorry about that by the way! Are you okay?” He opened his mouth to speak, but it turned into a smile. He was a bit puzzled that you were concerned about him when you were the one who fell on the ground.

“I’m fine.” You blew out a sigh of relief.

“It’s just i was trying to get away from those acquaintances of mine. I swear every time i try to have a civilized conversation it turns into glitter vs. sequins. I feel like i lose IQ points, you know what i mean?” He chuckled and nodded.

“Although you can’t really actually lose IQ points, they can just change over time without you knowing, but IQ tests will always give you the same results according to Richard Nisbitt, professor of psychology at the University of Michigan.”

“Really? Fascinating.” You marveled and he smiled in appreciation at your interest. You both realized that he still had your hand in his grasp. You shook it, hoping it would be less awkward. “ Y/n Y/l/n.” He brought your hand up to his lips, giving you a small kiss.

“I’m-’ He was caught off by loud and rowdy giggles and squeals. You groaned and rolled your eyes.

“Y/n! Look it’s y/n! Where have you been hiding?” You gave a pained look t o the man in front of you, who gently let go of your hand. You turned around and mustered up a tight smile. Bright neon pink gown and mask filled your vision.

“Hello Clarisse. I’ve been finishing up my last semester at Hamilton.”

“Ah, still in school. I’ll never understood why you took a gap year y/n. You’re not going to stay young forever you know. Men aren’t going to be interested in you if your head is always filled with knowledge or old. Men like arm candy, not a librarian.“ She giggled to her friends and you crossed your arms.

“Ah yes of course.” You rolled your eyes. “ And you must know what men like so much since you seem to always have a different one.” She huffed and gestured to the man behind you, face changing into a Colgate smile.

“Oh is this your date?”

“ I came alone, but he has been keeping me company.”

“We were just about to dance.” He stated, holding out his hand for you. You gave him a grateful look and turned back to Clarisse. “If you don’t mind.” She prissily shook her head, a sour look on her face.

You both made your way to the edge of the dance floor, you both situating in a stance consisting of your hand in his, the other resting on his shoulder, his other on your back, keeping a respectable height before starting to sway side to side.

“Thank you.” You smiled, relived. “I hate to be rude, but she deserves whatever deadbeat she ends up with.” He smiled.

“I can see why you find her so annoying. You know actually, when women are older, it’s the best time to get in a relationship because you have financial stability and a job.” You smiled warmly.

“You’re right! You are! Phft, screw Clarisse.” He chuckled at you and continued swaying, talking about miscellaneous things and staying like that until the man’s friend, a tall, dark-haired Italian man called him over.

You were smiling in the car ride home, your chauffeur/butler who felt like a father-figure to you asked you how it went, giving you a look in the rear view mirror. That’s when you realized you didn’t get his name or number.


It was kind of like Cinderella, except you were accused of murder.

-Third Person’s POV-

Spencer had come into work late, oversleeping. He had stayed up late last night, memories of the evening running through his brain. He really enjoyed your company but forgot to give you his number, which was weird for him. Not that he gives his number to every girl he meets, it’s just he usually never forgets anything.

He didn’t even get to tell you his name.

“What’s with you guys?” He mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as most the team was crowded around the interrogation room one-way window. 

“We think we found our unsub. She was at the fundraiser ball last night, where victim number three- Charles Talpert was found this morning.” Emily filled him in. He turned around and put down all of his stuff.

“She says she was with someone all night, but she didn’t get the guy’s name. Highly suspicious.” JJ added. He made his way to the window and saw a seemingly-familiar face.

“What’s her name?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” Rossi informed him. Spencer’s eyes widened.

“It’s not her. She was with me last night. I’m her alibi.” He rambled to Hotch. Hotch raised his brow but opened the door, telling Morgan that were alibi was identified and she was free to go.

You were escorted out of the room, a man named Aaron Hotchner apologizing to you and letting you go. You rolled your eyes and started thinking of an excuse to tell your mother. She would be furious.

“Oh y/n… His name is Spencer Reid. and he’s over there.” Aaron told you. You blushed slightly and turned around, seeing the same skin and dark hair. You smiled softly, ignoring the fact that you were almost put in jail.

“Hi.” You said awkwardly.

“Hi.” He answered back.

“Thank you for making sure i wasn’t put in jail.” You thanked him, feeling a bit self-conscious without a mask to hide behind. “You know that you never gave me your name or number. Was i that bad of a conversationalist?”

“No! No you weren’t it’s just- i don’t know. I mean i have a eidetic memory, so i shouldn’t have forgotten, but.. I don’t know. Is it too late to give it to you now? I do hope to see you again before I have to leave.” You smiled widely.

“Of course not.” He ripped off a sticky note from a neighboring desk and scribbled his number down. “I definitely wish to see you again.” You mustered enough courage to peck him on the cheek before exiting the building.

You had fallen for him terribly hard.

Ctrl+Finding Something New

It’s been awhile since I’ve attempted a multi chapter (yes, I will get to Sex Ed, I PROMISE) but I had this idea in my brain for awhile now. Just ask my fab beta zengoalie!

Title: Ctrl+Finding Something New
Rating: For now PG-13, M later on


“See, Mary-Margaret. I knew she would be in here.”

“Ah, I suppose I’ll owe you Starbucks then?”

Two figures stood in the dark doorway of Emma Swan’s office, ignoring the loud pulse of music and steady clicking of keys. Emma similarly ignored their conversation in turn, her eyes glued to the screen in front of her. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, lines of code trailing in their wake.

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