#tsaintmikage

[deuxmiya]

HEAVEN TO ME * karasu tabito x reader

you’re sick, karasu’s homesick. you’re both stubborn, but you both win. OR karasu doesn’t think anyone actually ever listens when he talks.

content: smau + writing hybrid oneshot. highschool sweethearts. non-bllk universe. mentions of otoya, yukimiya and shidou. fluff. wc: 2.3k

BLUE LOCK MASTERLIST

You’re catching up on your favourite show, bed ridden, when the doorbell rings. you grumble, flicking open your phone.

you: tabi istg that better not be you

tabi ♡: open up sweetheart

you roll out of bed begrudgingly, and stumble down the staircase. you spot your beloved boyfriend with a takeaway bag in hand, smirking at you through the door’s peephole. you roll your eyes, tightening your scarf as you unlock the door.

“Well, hello.” You cross your arms sternly, blocking the doorway to the best of your ability even though you know it would be futile.

“Hi there darling.” Karasu grins, leaning against the door frame. He holds up a paper bag from one of your favourite restaurants. “I bought you kimchi jjigae.”

“Ughhh Tabi…” You run a hand over your face as he steps inside. You attempt to push him back, but he clearly over powers you as he hooks an arm around your waist and lugs you inside along with him. You let out a string of whines as you try to escape from his grip. “I told you to hang out with Eita…”

“I did.” He nods smugly, leading you up the stairs as you attempt to protest. “And now, im hanging out with my beautiful girlfriend.”

“You’re going to get sick!” You fall back, leaning your entire weight onto him. He catches you easily with a sigh, propping you back up onto the next step to continue urging you up the stairs to your room.

The house is warm, the heater is on and buzzing all throughout the rooms and corridors. You wear a pair of fuzzy pyjama pants and a navy hoodie you nabbed from his house the last time you were over. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Karasu as he tugs on the drawstring softly to tighten it around your neck to keep you snug and warm.

“And what? I’d risk it for you.” He shrugs, hand hovering over the small of your back.

“Ugh shut up you’re so corny…” You grumble, folding your arms and feigning anger.

“And you love me anyway.” He flicks your temple, unlocking the door to your room with a swift click.

“Well I might be questioning it now…” You joke under your breath.

“Mm, what was that?” He leans down, breath hot on your neck even through your scarf. You flush pink immediately, running into your room to escape.

“Nothin.” You whistle, jumping back into your bed and swimming under the covers.

“Thought so.” He chuckles, sitting on the edge of your mattress. He unwraps the soup from its container, handing it over to you with a plastic spoon. “Careful, s’hot.”

“Thanks.” You say, blowing on the steam that rises from the takeout bowl to cool it down.

You press play on your laptop resuming the episode of the show you were watching, scooting over closer to the wall so he could join you. He shakes his head and a small snicker escapes his lips before crawling under the covers with you. After a slew of protest from you and a round of ‘I don’t care’s from Karasu, the two of you end up passing the bowl of soup between the two of you.

“Are you actually watching Westworld?” He asks as he passes the bowl back to you.

“Well duh. You talk about it all the time.” You roll your eyes, eating another spoonful of the kimchi stew. You hold the bowl up to your chest, leaning back onto Karasu as he turns a rosy pink.

“I didn’t know ya listened.” He scratched his nape, an awkward grin growing on his trembling lips.

“Of course I do.” You look up at him, stirring the spoon around in the nearly finished soup. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I was just rambling, I didn’t expect you take things into account. Especially in passing.” He fiddles with loose strands of your hair that splayed against his sweater.

“I always listen to what you have to say. Especially when you ramble, especially in passing.” You hand the bowl back to him, which he takes with warmed cheeks and a dopey smile stretched across his face.

“Thanks sweetheart.” He says placing the finished bowl onto your desk.

“Of course Tabi.” You smile, before it dawns on you. You jump up from leaning on his chest, causing him to shift to get up too. “Oh I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what darl’?” He looks at you with a raised brow as you lean over him. He steadies an arm over your waist to prevent you from falling.

You fumble with the handle of your beside draw, managing to get it after a few missed attempts. Karasu watches curiously as you slip your hand into the compartment and pull out a slim white envelope. You press it against his chest before returning to watch your show.

“Happy birthday.” You turn to him with a grin. “It isn’t that much, but I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m happy with whatever you give me sweetheart.” He attempts to lean down and kiss your temple but you press a finger up to his lips.

“Ah, ah, ah. No kisses until I’m fully recovered.” You tut, pushing him away from you lightly.

“We just shared a bowl of soup with the same spoon?” He tries to lean in again but you whip your head in the other direction, swatting blindly at him to get away.

“Oh whatever! Don’t make it worse and just open your present.”

He laughs, tossing his head back against your bed’s headboard. “Okay, got it.”

You watch him pry open the letter with cautious fingers, neatly ripping open the sealed ledge. Everything feels warmer, in spite of your fever. Your heart beats rapidly, like you guys were in your last year of high school all over again. When you guys were still baby skinned and blushed pink every time you would touch each other. Like everything was a blurry of cherry blossoms and love hearts that made you feel like you were confessing all over again.

He pulls out a folded card and a handwritten letter. Your touch was found all over, handwriting scattered across the lined paper and all over the card addressed to him. Karasu smiled, tracing his fingertips over the loops of your vowels and dots of your ‘i’s.

He smiles as he flicks through the letter, slowly putting the card aside to unfold the birthday letter and wishes you had scrawled onto a few pieces of loose leaf paper and stapled together.

“Ah wait..” You blush, holding the letter closed. Scrambling to pick up the card he had put neatly to the side instead. “You can read that later… I wanted you to open your actual gift first.”

Karasu watches you twiddle with your fingers nervously and lets out a huff, reaching his hand over to ruffle your head. “Okay sweetheart, whatever you want. But I will be reading this.”

He puts the letter onto your bedside table and after ensuring its safety returns to look at the folded card. He unfolds the thin blue cardboard slowly and out drops a pair of paper slips.

“Oh baby you didn’t,” He picks up the tickets, immediately recognising the images printed onto them. Two entry tickets to the Obon Festival, images of lantern lit Osaka etched onto them. Images of home. Karasu’s world freezes.

“Ah well, you used to talk about it every year because it’s on at the same time as your birthday. And it’s been a while since we’ve been back home because of work and stuff.” You sweat, stammering out your explanation in a flurry as Karasu stares holes into the tickets. “And look, I know it’s kind of ruined because we were meant to get there for today and tomorrow because I got sick.. but I don’t know, I just thought you’d…”

He’s quiet, too quiet and it starts to scare you. You sit back a little, trying to get a better look at his expression. Sweat slips down the back of your neck, scarf feeling a little tight as nervousness begins to grow in the pit of your stomach. “Uh… Tabi? Are you okay? Do you not like it?”

He darts his eyes over to you immediately, and you guys hold each other’s stares for what feels like an eternity. Then, he smiles. It’s not big, but the beat of his heart betrays him, practically ready to fly out of his throat and into your hands. His voice is lost, and it comes out hoarse like there’s something waiting to crawl out from behind it.

“Thank you.” It’s exasperated and the softest you’ve ever heard him. He’s scared if he says anything more than that, he might actually start crying.

Karasu had never felt so seen.

It’s always been him as the listener and the silent observer. He’d never expect anyone, let alone you to do the same back. Yet here you were, gifting him tickets to the Obon Festival in his hometown that he had been longing to go to since he left. He was homesick in immeasurable ways and you’ve healed it all in one go. He shook underneath the blanket, and for the first time in years, Karasu did not know how to act.

You had remembered. More than that, you had taken something he had mentioned in passing and out of pure whim, and treated it like it was a part of you. You’ve picked up pieces of him he’s abandoned and left behind for the corners of the world to find, and treated them like they were gold. His heart skipped over itself as he held himself, immortalised through mere strips of paper in between his fingers.

Karasu turns an impossible shade of red, burying his face into one of his palms as he tries to look away from you. He can’t manage to meet your eyes, let alone look at your face without breaking out into a stupid, stupid grin.

“Tabi?” You tilt your head, attempting to pry at his fingers to get a look at his face but he takes a hold of your hands.

“Wait, wait.” He manages to choke out and you pause when you finally manage to catch a glimpse of him.

“Tabi, are you crying?”

“What no…” He grumbles, trying to push you away. But it’s too late, you can see the tears that prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Oh my god baby.” You hold his face in your palms. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

“No no. It’s not bad sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you can feel the way he shakes through your hands as you cradle him close. “I love it. Really. Thank you.”

“Oh thank god.” You sigh, deflating onto him. He takes his chance to wrap both his arms around you and bury himself into your hair. “I was getting nervous because you were so quiet.”

“Are ya saying I’m noisy?” He mumbles into your hair and you laugh.

“No, I just,” You look up at him and he looks down at you. Any words you had planned to say melting away on your tongue in an instant. You huff, lying back down on top of him. “Nothing.”

He laughs and you can feel him move underneath you, the quaint beat of his heart and his warmth embracing you. He pulls your hair back and kisses your forehead. You still, awe stricken and flustered.

“Hey wait- I sid no kisses.” You stammer out, attempting to berate him but he just looks at you smugly.

“It’s just on yer forehead relax princess.” He shakes his head, bringing the tickets out in front of him. He fiddles with the slips, playing with them back and forth in between his fingers. “You deserve a lot more than that.”

“We can’t even go Tabi. I’m sorry, I have a backup but…” You look at him apologetically.

He smothers you again, kissing you on your cheek this time and roughing your hair up. “I don’t care sweetheart. I think I needed this.”

“A trip back home that you can’t even go on? Because I ruined it by getting sick…”

“You didn’t ruin nothing.” He sighs, “And besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to return home without ya anyway.”

“Ugh stop.” You palm his face to block his view of your reddening cheeks. Westworld was long forgotten, laptop discarded somewhere at the foot of your bed as the two of you fall into a fit of giggles and laughter.

“(Y/n) really,” He starts, holding you as if you would slip away the second he let go. He dips his forehead down to yours, breathe fanning lightly across your face. His heart beating against yours. “Thank you I mean it. This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten.”

Later that night when your giggles eventually turn into soft snores, and you drift off in his arms, Karasu finds himself thinking about home. He thinks about the time spent in the place the two of you had grown up together, the clutches of nostalgia still managing to find him after all these years. He thinks about Osaka and his parents and school, but then he thinks about you. And suddenly that wave of dread that comes with ‘home’ dissipates like it never existed in the first place.

Being in your arms feels like heaven on earth and then Karasu thinks, maybe he was never homesick at all. Because home came with him in the form of his bashful and beautiful girlfriend who stumbles over her words and still gets flustered when they hold hands. In the form of the cheeky and wide grin that would stretch across your lips even when his jokes weren’t funny in the slightest. In the form of the girl who manages to make him feel seen down to his very core. And that as long as he was in your arms or you were in his, he would never feel homesick again.

yay they lowkey make me ill. thanks for reading!!! happy birthday karasuuuu

do not copy, translate or repost my works. thank you.

deuxmiya © 2025

[deuxmiya]

29 PEARLS * reo mikage x reader

model reo mikage x bartender reader

two strangers meet at a bar. except they’re not really strangers, just older.

I’m a little late, but here’s a little drabble-ish oneshot in honour of reo’s birthday.

content: mentions of alcohol. melancholy themes (not explicitly angst). little self-indulgent. slightly inspired by everybody here wants you by jeff buckley. wc: 2.5k

BLUE LOCK MASTERLIST

Frankly, Reo didn’t exactly know what he was doing at the bar on his birthday. He just knew he needed something to take up the time in which he waited for the clock to tick. Each second to mark the end of this day—August 12th, like any other day.

He had sauntered himself into a rather empty pub he happened passed by on the street while attempting to take the long way home. He dragged himself, and his gravel pressed oxfords, across the vacant dance floor which played old-timey jazz that could lull you through the night. He takes his sweet time, because heaven knows he’s got a lot of it, by making each step extraneously and excruciatingly slow and stretched.

The thin silver hand of his wrist watch ticks once, and he slumps himself into an open barstool. A sigh escapes his lips, too unfiltered and rather loud, but Reo had grown too tired to care. He supposed if he was allowed to do anything on his birthday, it would be to sigh a little louder than he normally does.

“Well hello. Bad day? What can I get for you?” You snicker, tying a thin black server apron around your waist with nimble hands. You fasten the knot in the back into a small black bow, tail ends swirling as you walk across the bay behind the wooden tabletop bar.

“Birthday, actually.” He chuckles dry, not even daring to look up and meet your eye. He instead, bore holes into the rings of the wooden planks that made up the bar. Elbows propped up onto the counter and head grovelling in his palms. His lips curl into a taut smile, not forced just tired, as he lets out another shaky breath. “A whiskey. However you want to serve it.”

“The one and only day where you can wallow, and it’s all yours. I like that.” You shake your head, grabbing a bottle of the honey brown liquor off the shelf. You pop the cap methodically like any other drink you had served today, letting the whiskey flow into the cup. It swirls at the bottom of the glass, malt warm under the dim bar lights. You slide the drink smoothly across the countertop, over the hundreds of ring stains left by careless customers and unwavering patrons. “Neat.”

“Thanks.” He grumbles, lifting it to his lips and downing it whole like his life depended on it. The whiskey trickles down his throat, smooth yet scalding. He finds his brows pinching as he swallows the honey liquor, the pain tugging at his temples throughout the day finally loosening. He sets the glass down with a soft thud, relief tumbling by his teeth. He rakes a hand through his purple hair that falls loosely from its once styled up-do. His face in all its beautiful glory was finally on full display, flushed lightly from the alcohol and haloed by the warm lamp lights.

“Oh hey, I know you.” You say for the sake of formalities.

You had known from the minute he walked in, plum coloured hair and all, exactly who he was. Sharp jawline, deep purple eyes that rivalled looking into the night sky, and clean skin that modelling agencies and companies fight like dogs for. It’s not like Reo Mikage had a face you could ever forget.

“Uh yeah. I get that quite a lot.” He looks at you, gnawing on his lips as he watches the overhead clock tick dreadfully slow.

Your back is turned as you wipe down a few clean glasses, holding them up to the light to check for blemishes. Your hair, in a casual ponytail that Reo finds himself watching swing side to side instead of the hour and minute hands of his wrist watch. You hum and scat along to the jazz playing from the old jukebox as you set down each of the cups. “You’re on that billboard outside.”

“Billboard?” Reo finds himself surprised. Even though he knows that he’s on half of the billboards in the city, on the magazines that the old ladies at salons read and even on posters plastered against the bus stops. There are thousands of places in the world where you could see his face. Yet you make it sound as though only one mattered.

“Yeah. That one across from this building. It’s a rather old ad, they haven’t switched it in years. I stare at it every time I get a break.” You drum your fingers on the bar top in a steady rhythm.

“Admirer?” Reo jokes, the words slip from his lips bitterly. It’s a single word, but it’s sharp and almost hateful. He chokes up, a hand flying to his lips as if he didn’t mean for it to come out that way. Liquid courage made Reo feel more vulnerable than it did confident. His words were no longer reinforced, the syllables and sounds escaping from his lips uncontrollable and ugly. Things he would never say sober. He could feel his world crumbling by his loafers.

“You could say that, sure.” You chuckle. Your laugh resonates through the small bar with a fondness and warmth Reo hadn’t felt in years. It wakes him from the wave of dread he had been letting himself drown in for far too long. He meets your eyes, his own pupils blown wide at the way your lips curled in delight and cheeks were all rosy. You hold the whiskey in your hand again, tilting it over to him. “Another glass, Mikage?”

“You’re..” Your name is lost on his tongue, but he swears it’s there. Underneath all the poster facade he’s procured for himself, the lies and the performance, he knows that you’re in there somewhere. He blinks slowly, as if it would help render and register your face in his mind again. A lost transaction, a name foreign on his tongue. “Sorry.. I didn’t mean…”

“I know. But I also don’t care.” You shrug as you set the bottle down onto the under bar table. “But since it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook.” You joke, a soft huff escaping your lips as Reo does nothing but stare.

He drinks you in, maybe faster than he had with that neat whiskey. The way your hair falls against your face and behind your figure, the way the orange fuse of the lightbulb bounces off the curves of your skin. You were golden under the light, a type of rich that Reo could never have. He finds himself leaning in a little closer, and inside he feels foolish. Like he was letting himself become a moth to a flame.

“(Y/n), by the way.” You smirk as you lean against the back counter, resting against the steel ledge with your palms. “It’s okay if you forgot.”

“Ah.. right.” Reo can’t help but wonder when he looks at you. His mind, thoughts and eyes can picture nothing but how you were on that day. He knows exactly what ad is plastered on that building outside. Because you’re the one he took it with.

It was one of his very first gigs when entering the modelling scene. And this time he swears he knows it like the back of his hand. He was the equivalent of fresh bait in the industry and he was feeling as though he was going to hurl his entire being out the more his manager rambled on about the entire ordeal.

But the second he entered the studio— where the lights were a little dim with the exception of the studio strobes that hung over the actual set, Reo had his eyes set on you. And that lone fact, made him think that maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad.

He remembered the way you dipped your figure, so grace like as you greeted him. He remembered how he paused, his mind reaching a mental blank as he was grappling to recall his own name. He remembered the way he smiled in that final photo because he had cracked a joke which you had laughed at. He thinks, looking back at it all now, that might’ve been the last time his eyes showed a kind of life or passion for what he does.

You were as beautiful as he had remembered you in the studio, posing for individual photos and getting your make up retouched. There was an air around you that made you seem effortless. Reo finds himself getting drunk you rather than actual liquor. “You.. I thought you were…”

“A model? Yeah. I was.” You laugh, watching his expression twitch as he finally forms the connections in front of your eyes. “I gave it up after that shoot actually.”

“No… what?” Reo almost jumps to his feet. “I thought you were…” Reo didn’t know where his sentence was meant to lead.

“I was doing good. I was. I was good right?” You smile, eyes closed.

Reo gulps and nods his head instantly.

“Industry isn’t for me.” You shake your head, a soft sigh leaving your lips. There’s something sad that settles in the bottom of your eyes that Reo fins himself knowing all too well. It’s why he finds himself in places like this, on days where he should be celebrating. “But, I’m glad to see you’re doing so well. Career wise at least.”

“Are you saying I’m doing bad?” Reo scoffs but he doesn’t mean it. He thinks with the way you smile in return, you know it too.

“Well, I’m just saying, no one comes to the bar unless they want to run from something.” You tilt your head and raise a brow at him. He swallows again, and you can see the way his adam’s apple shakes slightly in his throat. “So what is it birthday boy? Trouble in paradise?”

“No…” He laughs nervously, suddenly feeling the heat of the enclosed bar. He tugs at his collar and tie, sweat dampening the edges of his garments. “I don’t know. I’ve just always had problems with it.”

“With what?” You press.

“My birthday.” He folds.

“Ah. Innate isn’t it?” A slight grin grows on your lips as you lean towards him. “But I get you, if I wasn’t working all the damn time, I’d be drinking on my birthday too.”

“Oh uh, did you want?” Reo doesn’t know what compels him as he awkwardly juts out his hand with his half sipped whiskey. He immediately glows red, shaking his head as he throws his other hand up in defence. “Wait- sorry.”

You giggle, a string of laughter falling from your lips as you take the glass from his hands. As you sip, he watches you mesmerised, it winds him. “Don’t tell my boss.” You winked.

“Yeah.” Reo coughs out with a nod as you place the glass back down in front of him, your lipgloss staining the rim of the glass you had sipped on. It’s a soft pink, and it shines in the light in a way which makes Reo flush a deeper red than he already was.

“I’m surprised you’ve come to my bar tonight Mikage.” You rinse up a beer jug that one of your coworkers hands over to you before they left for the night.

“Uh Reo.” He corrects, playing with the liquor glass between his hands. It rolls on its edge, tumbling along the tips of each finger.

“Right. Well Reo, I’m surprised you’ve come to the bar tonight.” You smile again and Reo can feel his heart crawling up his throat. “A pleasant surprise don’t get me wrong. It’s nice to see a familiar face. I mean it.”

“Yeah.. you too…” Reo’s words fall slack against his tongue. No longer knowing what to say or do as the night drags along.

“One more?” You shrug to ask, not bothered to reach out for the liquor again.

“No, I shouldn’t.” He shakes his head, the most solid and defined decision he’s made all night. He hangs his head low, not wanting to admit any of these things. If the escaped his lips they would be real, if he voiced them they would be inevitable. “I actually should get going. I shouldn’t even be here since I have a shoot tomorrow morning.”

“What, you have work tomorrow? After your birthday?”

“Yeah, after.” He repeats.

You sigh. “Call in late.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. Call in late. Or don’t call in at all.”

Reo looks at you incredulously. He’s unable to stop the thrum of his heart and the way your words stir him more than he’d like to admit. He can’t bear to meet your eyes because he knows you would pull him apart in an instant.

“Or don’t. Don’t listen to me. But I know this for a fact. They won’t fire you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“First, all of your fans would riot.”

“Does that include you?” Reo says a bit too fast and giddy, slapping yet another hand over his lips as he struggles to keep his words and feelings at bay.

“Yes, sure.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “And second, you’ve got talent. You’ve got the looks for it a stronger mind than most people in that industry will ever have. They would never let someone like you go that easily.”

Reo stills, more stagnant now than he had been all night as he tried to distract and drag on the time until midnight.

“That also means you need to push back on them. And do what you want. The only way to breathe in this world is to carve your own path. Your own air will find you, and sometimes you will need a break to find it.”

“Did you ever feel that way?” He sputters. Your words strike him with a ferocity he is not used to, it’s more cutthroat than his parents or manager yelling at him. And he’s scared he’s actually bleeding.

“Yeah. Why’d you think I ended up here?” You palm the counter of the bar with pride. “It’s a little silly, but I love what I do here. I think you need to find that little something. Whether it’s in what you do or even a special someone. You need something that will let your breath.”

And that’s when he feels it. That same feeling he had when he first met you all those years ago. Where the air returns to his lungs and he feels a little lighter on his feet. His heartbeat becomes somewhat readable rather than a messy organ that slams itself against his ribcage. It’s natural and for the first time in years, Reo thinks he’s actually living.

The conversation doesn’t go further from there as Reo retires for the night. You pluck his glass from the countertop and place it into the sink, heading to untie your apron. Reo reaches into his pockets for his wallet before you stop him, a hand outstretched over the bar on his shoulder. “Don’t you dare. It’s on the house. Happy Birthday Reo.”

“Yeah. Thank you.” It’s one of the thousands he’s been wished today, but it’s the only one that matters.

happy birthday reo (I just made it in time…)

consider liking, reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed. check out my other works if you liked this one! — deuxmiya 🐇