#blue beetle social media au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

16reapergrell66 · 5 years

Text

Loving a Daydream

Tarek works at The Raven, a cozy little bar nestled in an unfamiliar city. He meets Nomad siblings Wyverne and Mephistopheles as they wander from place to place. Would they ever come back?

My cute Discord group and I bounced ideas off each other in a Modern!AU setting. I was graciously given permission to use @fantasmagorias Tarek and @athousandstarstodreamon Vega, and I have had fun while doing this. I did use Google Translate for Mephisto's Romanian, so if you notice anything off, please don't hesitate! I like feedback, especially on languages I'm not familiar with!

Part I || Part II || Part III

The night life. Not so different from any other city. Bright streetlights and flashes of headlights, buildings with lighted windows as high as the eye could see. Neons winked, blinked occasionally. People wandered the streets, not as much as when the sun was overhead. Drunk laughter and slurred speech, an almost trip here and there.

Wyverne. A nomad, though in this day and age you didn't need to be. She stared out the large glass window, a melancholic look to her eye, her emerald a little dull. She knocked back the rest of her Salty Bitters, the glass set smoothly down on the tabletop. A glance at her phone told her no new messages, not from her Grandmother, not from her disaster of a brother.

Tarek was alone at the bar that night, save for his friend Vega. Simple black, golden embroidery for the bar's logo, hair styled just a tad. Wyverne was his only customer left, and he was starting to grow somewhat concerned. After just five, even the good Doctor Devorak was starting to show signs of being drunk. She was either extremely good at hiding it, or she knew how to hold her alcohol. He walked over to her, a gentle hand on her shoulder, startling her out of her reverie.

"Hey. It's getting pretty late, yeah?" He started to gather the empty highball glasses, getting occasional glances. "Shouldn't you be going home?" She looked at him with owlish eyes, a spark of confusion in her eyes before the words quickly registered.

"Ah, yes, it is quite late," she answered him, a soft accent brushing up against her vowels. "Though, you can save yourself the trouble. I have no place to call home." She quickly gave him the money she owed, tucking a couple thick curls behind her ear. "Keep the change."

She got up from her seat, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. Her sneakers made no noise on dark hardwood, ripped jeans exposing some of her legs to the cool night air, the silver bell announcing her leave.

"That's the second time she's said that, Vega," Tarek said, a hint of frustration in his voice. "Does she not want to go back because its abusive? Does she not want to go back because she's been kicked out?" He brought the glasses behind the bar, giving them a quick wash and dry, his sleeves still rolled past his elbows.

"I don't know, but it worries me," Vega told him, worry creeping into her voice. "Who just says that to a complete stranger!?"

"Let's hope she's found a place by her next visit." The soft clink of glasses could be heard as he put them away, voice slightly muffled by the cold marble countertop. He tossed the towel he used, grabbing a fresh one to use for the next day. Tarek continued the small talk with Vega, finishing his closing for the night.

☆ THE NEXT DAY ☆

It was bright and warm, not a cloud in the sky. The streets were alive, people coming and going and chatting on their phones. Cars honked horns, traffic building in the more busy intersections.

Just outside The Raven, Wyverne was sitting on the edge of the fountain, a cooling bubble tea sitting next to her lap. All around her were children, young and old, watching with utter fascination. Her tribal tattoo, now exposed in the warmth of the day, had started to shimmer. Stark black lines gave way to a rainbow of color, shimmering into view like a pebble dropped in a pool of water. She willed the lines to move, to break apart and snake around her arm. The youngest children shrieked in delight, the older ones murmuring oohs and aahs.

Tarek was outside on his lunch, having glanced up from scrolling through his social media feeds. He saw the gaggle of children, heard their shrieks and oohs, and when he craned his head to see over the tallest children, he had to do a double take. Surely tattoos weren't supposed to shift colors like chameleons and snake around the wearer's arm….right? Sure, anything was possible, he's been around Asra Alnazar long enough to know that. But that was different, something he had never heard of or read.

All too quickly, the illusion faded, the tattoo fading to black and the lines returning to their original form. Wyverne took a drink from her bubble tea, admiring their shocked faces. She held her drink in a cool hand, and held her hand out.

"Want to see something fun?" Wyverne asked, voice hushed so Tarek had to strain to hear. The children nodded eagerly, a chorus of 'yeah!'s ringing out.

Wyverne turned her manicured hand up towards the sky, revealing her scarab beetle tattoo. It softly glowed, too faint to see in daylight, and a pale blue butterfly appeared in her hand. The wings seemed to be made of delicate glass, the sunlight creating patterns on her skin. A soft stroke to its thorax with her right index finger, and she took a breath. The children held theirs, and with a soft blow to the butterfly's wings it burst. Butterflies burst forth from shattered wings, all variations of color and shape and size. Large cyan butterflies with teardrop wings, small crimson butterflies with fire in their wings. Slightly large emerald ones with leaf-shaped wings.

The butterflies swirled around her, the breeze from their wings lifting her curls just slightly. And then, all of them started to fly away, landing on tables and benches and curbs. The children chased them, marvelling at how some landed on their noses, their shoulders, their hair. They laughed, touching the wings, watching the butterfly burst into more butterflies. Wyverne watched it all happen, her chin resting in her hand, fingers curled to brush her bottom lip.

Tarek was fascinated. He thought this was just a simple trick of the eye, but when he saw the big teal butterfly land on the back of his hand, he started having different thoughts. He snapped a picture, the butterfly shaking its wings in response to the camera shutter. He set down his phone, and brushed the deep teal thorax with his middle finger lightly, afraid too much pressure would shatter the moment literally. It shivered in response, drops of soft blue splashing against his lightly tanned skin, leaving shimmering wing dust in its wake. All of a sudden, the butterfly burst, a soft ring of brilliant teal the only sign it was ever there.

He looked up, ready questions for the girl he dubbed 'Street Magician.' She was nowhere to be found, as if she herself had been made of the prismatic butterflies. Thoughtfully humming to himself, Tarek got up from his chair, pushing it in. He went inside The Raven, his break having been over ten minutes ago. He sent the picture of the teal butterfly to Vega, reminding himself to tell her what happened later on.

••Later That Night••

"So, wait….you saw the whole thing?" Vega asked, her voice rising with the question. "And you didn't tape it!?" She sounded incredulous, her glass barely touched, so enthralled with the too-good-to-be-true story.

"Look, even if I could, most of my view was blocked," Tarek replied, setting two highball glasses right side up on the counter, edges turned white from salt. "Besides, I didn't want to break the spell." He grabbed the bottle of bitters, and the bottle of rum, pouring each one into the glasses, and adding a dash more salt. He topped it with a bottle of ginger beer, splitting it between the two glasses.

Tarek gave one to Julian, replacing his empty glass. The good natured doc muttered his thanks, still in deep blue scrubs from his shift. His auburn curls haphazardly fell over his right eye, a perpetual state of bedhead even though he usually never saw one. Julian took a small sip, watching Tarek as he maneuvered around patrons, bringing Wyverne her third Salty Bitters.

"Grazie," Wyverne muttered, almost absentmindedly. She had been reading an article, based out of Las Vegas, from a link Azlingua had sent her.

"Wow. You know Italian?" Tarek chuckled, placing her empty glass on his tray and wiping the table down. That startled the redhead, shaking her out of her little world.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry!" She started to blush, embarrassed at having used the simple phrase in front of him. "I didn't-"

"Hey, that's fair. I bet being polylingual is hard," he said, giving her a soft smile. He touched her shoulder, reassuring, before heading back to the bar.

"She's a girl after my own heart," Julian muttered into his glass, his grey eyes never looking away entirely. "Does she get them every time or…?"

"Ever since she showed up one day, yeah," Tarek told him, washing the empty glasses. "Has, like, eight and walks out the door like she's only had one." He started to buff the glasses dry, glancing at Julian. "She's outstanding with tip though."

"So, do you know anything about her?" Vega asked, taking a sip of her own drink. "She's mysterious, and yet knows the town like she's lived here for ages. Its so strange!"

Tarek just shrugged, any other useful information lost to him. He had tried to pry the first time she showed up, speaking rapid-fire Russian into her phone. She had gotten startled, and had spoken to him in a quiet, defensive tone, like she didn't trust him enough. It was fair on her part, a random stranger coming up to her and asking her questions she most likely didn't have the answer to anymore would be very suspicious.

"On another topic, when was the last time you slept, Doc?" Tarek asked Julian, a hand on his hip, with his other against the lip of dark grey marble. "Your bags looks like they could swallow. you. alive."

"I slept!" Julian protested, a smirk on his lips. "Uh-huh, when?" Vega pried, an unamused look on her face.

"Uh…..hmm...well…" Julian muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. The man usually had coffee instead of actual blood at times, his job usually not allowing it, though he generally refused on a regular basis.

Tarek rolled his eyes in amusement, softly shaking his head. Julian just smiled sheepishly, glancing into his drink, hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck. Tarek had started to make another drink for a customer when his hands stopped moving, eyes wide and the teal there showing signs of more curiosity.

Mephistopheles. Another nomad by design, quirky self-defense teacher in multiple countries and cities. Ice blue eyes roamed the bar scene, scanning for his sister's classic messy curls. He found her, and with a quiet smirk walked over to her, sneakers barely a whisper on the dark hardwood.

"Ei bine, dacă nu e micul Verne," he said softly, in native Romanian tongue, chuckling at the hard glare she gave. "Nu fi așa, micuț sis." He had set his bag beside him, chin resting in his cupped hand.

He started talking to her in a low voice, with the others just barely making out any words at all. Tarek had just starting pouring for the martini he was making when a sudden burst of sharp laughter came from him. Tarek stopped pouring, turning to face the two in the back, Vega eyeing with some interest as Julian took a call from Mazelinka.

"Într-adevăr? Asta e tot ce îți faci griji?" Mephisto reached across the table, holding her shaking hands. "Wy, its okay to relax. You need to let go, and have fun while you're here." He brushed a tear from her cheek, and slowly got up. She got up with him, knocking back the rest of her drink, leaving her money underneath the thick glass before leaving.

☆ ONE WEEK LATER ☆

"Did you seriously start crushing on him?" Vega had stopped by, running errands before opening her shop a couple streets over. She had walked with Tarek over to The Raven, since he had forgotten something last night.

"Uh...no? Why do you think that?" Tarek had a soft blush, barely there against tanned skin. He had dressed casually this morning, not opening till later in the day. Soft blues and worn denim, ragged sneakers looking like hell.

"You won't stop gushing about him! How his hair looked, his eye color, his outfit," she listed, tapping her fingers. "If I didn't know you better, Mister, I'd say you have more of a crush on this handsome stranger than Asra!"

Tarek sighed, slowly pushing open the door. The door chimed, and he disappeared towards the back, grabbing what he had left behind. As he exited the front of the bar, a small commotion was happening outside. Vega was waving at him excitedly, trying to get him to come out. Confused, but curious, he went to the glass, and nearly had to pick up his jaw from the floor.

Mephistopheles was outside, shirt off in the warmth of the sun. His hair was back, out of his face in a ponytail, icy eyes narrow in concentration. His hands were defensive, legs shoulder width apart. Wyverne was a few feet away from him, magic projectiles in front of her in shimmering pastels. She launched another volley, his body moving as if there were no bones in him. Every muscle flexed, tensed when they came too close. He deflected with ease, twisting and bending low to avoid the ones over his head. He finished off the volley with a particularly high kick, almost a full standing split.

Tarek's breath was stuck. His face was too warm, his heart was too fast. There was a certain warmth that spread through him, trying to gather at the base of his spine. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He seemed to curse himself in his thoughts, trying to shake them off. No, he couldn't have those thoughts. He had work later, there was no way he was doing this. Tarek walked outside, trying to get his face to stop feeling so warm.

"Wow! Is that a type of self defense!?" Vega whispered to him, awe in her eyes. She glanced at Tarek, smirking at how red his cheeks were. "Aw, what's the matter? Getting a little heated?" She teased him, poking his cheek.

Mephistopheles had another volley, this one a pastel pink, close together at various points. He ran up to the volley, a sword appearing at his side. With a nimble grace he unsheathed it, the sword loose in his right hand. As the targets met him, the sword sang through the air. With clashes of blue steel the targets were cleaved, his body swaying and twisting. His biceps flexed, his shoulders meeting together with an overhand blow. His breath came a little faster, sculpted muscle rising and falling, his sword a hair's breadth from Wyverne's shoulder, a smirk on his face.

"Good run, strigoi," Wyverne giggled, gently pushing the blade away from her shoulder. A snap of her fingers and the multicolored chunks vanished, fizzing out like a hologram.

Mephisto smirked, a canine gleaming in the sunlight. He glanced at Tarek, taking his hair out of the ponytail, winking at him. He sheathed the sword, taking his water bottle and pouring a mouthful into his mouth, pouring some more over his body to cool off. His right arm showed the tribal tattoos, lines thick and thin, wrapping themselves around his arm. The black had lightened slightly, looking more like a very dark grey than true black. He grabbed his shirt and slipped it on, the words 'MY FIRST LANGUAGE IS SARCASM' printed in bright, bold teal spraypaint.

Tarek blushed more, clearing his throat and giving him a small wave before hastily walking around the corner. Vega laughed, following Tarek, her keys jingling at her side. Tarek was slumped on the ground, hands barely covering his face, lip caught between his teeth. Vega casually leaned against the wall, shoulders shaking with contained laughter.

"So, uh, shall we consult the almighty magic eight ball?" Vega jingled her keys, holding it by the circular clasp. "Vega, shut up," Tarek grumbled, peeking out of his fingers to glance up at her.

"Hehe. Does Tarek have a crush on Mr. Tall, Blond, and Handsome?" She jingled the keys, the eight ball bouncing around. She tossed the keys into the air, catching the ball and turning it right side up. The ball simply read, 'more likely than you think.'

"Oh, for pete's sake," Tarek chuckled, shoulders shaking. "You have the divination skills of a Goddess, yet you rely on a toy eight ball?"

"Oh come on, its for fun." She held out her hand, and he gratefully took it. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, and followed her to the shop, hoping seeing Asra could clear his mind. He had to work in a few hours.

••Later On••

Mephistopheles was sitting at the bar, nursing his cocktail. His hair splayed over his shoulder, a decent tshirt, the letters spelling out 'YES I'M SMOKING' in a deep teal. Dark denim, slightly worn at the knees, his sneakers relatively fresh. An assortment of rings were on his fingers, borrowed from Wyverne.

He quickly tapped something out in a message to Azlingua, chuckling softly as he downed the rest of his drink. Tarek gave him a refill, dressed in the bar's signature black, trying to not blush as their fingers brushed. Mephisto's hand was surprisingly cool comparatively, and the blond glanced up at Tarek, giving the softest smile he could muster.

"So, you're an angel, huh?" Mephisto had this voice, this voice that could lure you in with caramel notes from his Romanian accent. It caught Tarek off guard, the question phrased weird.

"Well, I could be. Why do you ask?" Tarek decided to play along, leaning on the bar, chin cupped in his hand. His teal eyes shone with amusement, a soft blush from being so warm working on his cheeks.

"Because I think you're….. no, wait!" Mephisto blushed furiously, hiding his face, a low groan in his throat. "Ughhhhh I fucked up…" He slumped onto the bar, face buried in his arms.

Tarek laughed, bright and clear. He tried to cover his mouth, to stifle his snickering. Mephisto blushed further, his ears reddening. Gods, this man in front of him was just too cute.

"Gods, I'm sorry," he said, wiping away a tear, swallowing back his giggles. "Its just…," and here he struggled for a second or two, "I find you adorable. And attractive." He mumbled the last bit under his breath, laughing and turning redder.

Across the way, tucked in a booth, Vega was watching with mild interest. Her chin was sitting eagerly in cupped hands, lip caught between her teeth. Asra had chuckled with mild interest when he heard Tarek laugh. Julian just rolled his eyes, taking a drink from his glass.

"Gods, and I thought we were disasters around Asra. That stranger is such a mess!" Vega had a laugh, clutching Julian's shoulder, taking a drink from her glass.

"Oh, like you're one to talk," Julian told her, glancing at her through auburn curls. "I distinctly remember someone being a total mess when Asra flirted with them." She smacked his bicep, making him laugh, her cheeks a bright apple red.

"So, uh, what's your name?" Tarek had given Mephisto a smirk, eyes wandering the angular features. "My name is Tarek."

"Tarek. Lovely name," he said softly, meeting his gaze. "My name is Mephistopheles. Named after the demon, lived up to my name." He chuckled, his accent making the two names lovelier.

Wyverne chose this moment to walk past, heading for her usual seat. She had watched, shaking her head at Mephisto's poor attempt at flirting. Her hair was in a half ponytail, her outfit simple and plain. Her sandals on the hardwood were lost among the laughter and jests and oohs. She wore her piercings, mismatching the studs on purpose. When Mephisto's arm was within range of her hand, she smacked him. True to his dramatic nature, he clutched his arm in mock horror.

"Sis! Why would you do that!?" Mephisto dramatically touched the back of his hand to his forehead, his face scrunched in mock pain. "I'm too fragile!" Wyverne shook her head, rolling her eyes as hard as she could. She gave him her best 'whatever' look, the corner of her lips curved into a smile.

Tarek shook his head. Dramatic and an adorable hunk? What could make this man even more attractive was beyond him as he set about making a drink. He got out a chilled martini glass and rimmed it with colorful teal salt. Taking out a few different liquors, he filled his chilled steel cocktail strainer with ice and started a simple dance with the bottles. Tarek twirled two of them like simple pens, letting them dance around his fingers before sending them tumbling end over end into the air. He sent the third up over his shoulder, spinning around, rocked back on his heels as he snatched the first two out of the air. The first two were poured into the strainer, the cap closed and the container shaken, the third bottle spinning around his finger. He poured the contents into the glass, slightly frosting the outside with the cold, the third bottle poured last, the blue curacao creating a rim of blue against the stark clearness of the remainder of the drink. Tarek slid it across the bar to the waiting patron, and started to put liquors away.

Mephisto had been watching, unable to tear his eyes away. The smooth fluidity of Tarek's movements caused a flush of warmth to rise to his cheeks, to spread through his limbs and gently gather at the base of his spine. Tarek caught his eye, and winked at him, tongue caught between his teeth as he popped open two bottles of dark lager beer.

Vega and Julian had witnessed the whole thing, barely containing their snickers. They were completely made for each other, even if Tarek had gotten smoother over the years. Asra was pressing his lips together, edges curled into a smile, trying to not laugh with Vega. All of them silently rooted for Tarek, Asra hoping for the teasing to be cut down, even though he didn't particularly mind it.

☆ ONE MONTH LATER ☆

Tarek was just outside The Raven, scrolling through. He had been trying to learn the languages he had heard Mephistopheles use with his sister, and gotten as far as basic communications. He was just about to start another lesson on one of his apps when he heard a crinkle of tissue paper, the soft scoot of the chair on concrete.

Mephistopheles was sitting across from him, a little more nervous than usual. His long legs were crossed under the table, a soft blush on his cheeks, fingers idly twisting his hair. C'mon Mephi, it's not hard!

"H-Hey, Tarek," Mephisto said, clearing his throat, a nervous tremble. "Look, I have something to say."

"What is it?" Tarek slid his phone off to the side, propping elbows on the glass top. His fingers were laced, chin resting on them, eyes shining. "You can tell me. Is it about your sister?"

"Yeah, a little," Mephisto muttered, clearing his throat again. Gods, why is this so hard!?

"The reason you haven't seen my sister is….well….she's been running. I don't remember from who," LIAR, "but she couldn't stay. She felt that she was gonna be caught. And...well…" He rubbed the back of his neck, a deep shuddering breath, his head tilted down so his chin met his chest. It felt painfully tight, he didn't know why.

"Hey, hey, hey. Its ok, take your time," Tarek reach out, touching Mephi's bicep. He rubbed his thumb across it, his teal eyes full of worry. Whatever this was, he was badly shaken.

"I….I have to follow. I can't stay," Mephisto looked on the verge of tears, his ice welling up. "I would love to…..to see where this goes. But I have to make sure she's ok." He furiously wiped at his eyes, rubbing his hand on worn denim. "Fuck, I promised I wouldn't cry."

Tarek felt devastated. Little Street Magician left? That's why she wasn't around? He quickly went around to Mephi, an arm around his shoulders. He wanted to comfort, but how? It was all just vague information, probably for a good reason, but it was so vague.

Mephisto took out a felt tip pen and uncapped it. Wiping a stray tear that had managed to fall, he wrote down his number, writing his name in elegant script. He recapped the pen, stowing it in his pocket, grabbing the flowers he brought. He placed them in Tarek's lap, a gorgeous array of blues dotted with white.

"Te iubesc," Mephisto muttered softly, a soft kiss on Tarek's cheek. He got up, his fingers trailing under Tarek's chin as he left, leaving him in awe.

Tarek shook his head, trying to not let a tear fall down his cheek. He picked up the flowers, touching the petals like they would shatter if he pressed too hard. Carnations tipped with teals and blues, roses in blues from light to dark and each color in between. Baby's breath scattered itself throughout, accented with lily of the valley. He brought the bouquet to his nose, the flowers smelling delicate, mixing with the lingering scent of Mephisto's cologne. He whispered his love into the flowers, getting up and texting Vega that he was bringing over flowers after, and added Mephisto into his contact list.

#the arcana #fan apprentice #apprentice wyverne tag #apprentice vega tag #apprentice tarek tag #asra alnazar #julian devorak

5 notes · View notes