naluvva

[naluvva]

Calling to say goodnight

Featuring Sae and Rin (not a ship..btw)

The phone rang twice before Sae picked up.

“ What.”

He sounded like he always did, calm and cold, impossible to read. Rin didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the floor, one hand gripping the edge of the desk like it could anchor him. The silence stretched.

“ Rin?”

Still no answer. Just breathing. Quiet.

Finally, Rin said it.

“ Goodnight.”

Soft. Awkward. Not casual. The word burned a little coming out.

Sae was quiet for a second too long.

“ ...What’s this supposed to be?”

“ Nothing. I just… wanted to say it.”

“ You don’t do things like this.”

Rin’s jaw clenched.

“ Yeah. I know.”

He almost hung up right then. But he stayed just for a second longer, long enough for Sae to say something, anything, but he didn’t.

So Rin pulled the phone away, about to end the call, when Sae finally spoke.

“ You too.”

It wasn’t much. Barely above a whisper. But Rin heard it and felt it like a bruise beneath the ribs.

He didn’t smile or cry. He just stared into the dark, the screen gone dim in his hand.

He didn’t expect anything to change. But for the first time in a long time, he slept with his phone beside him, face down, just in case it rang again.

[naluvva]

The Weight of What I Couldn’t Save

Kinich, Ayato, & Kazuha

TW: Trigger Warning: Injury, death, trauma, grief, abandonment, violence, blood, and intense emotional distress.

Kinich

The fire had long since gone out. What remained The fire had long since gone out. What was left was the faintest ring of warmth around charred wood, and smoke that curled low, too tired to rise. Kinich sat in the dark, his arms on his knees, staring into nothing. The silence around him was heavy. He hadn’t moved since the argument. If it could even be called that. No yelling. No sharp words. Just a conversation that fell apart slowly, until it collapsed into silence and you walked away with tears in your eyes and your back to him.

He hadn’t followed. You needed space, he had told himself. He didn’t want to make it worse. But Natlan was a place of fire and wild edges. He should have known space could become distance, and distance could become danger. When his stomach twisted and wouldn't stop twisting, when the wind shifted and smelled wrong, he was already on his feet. He grabbed his spear and sprinted into the forest.

The world was a blur of branches and red-tinged light. He followed your trail without hesitation, taking shortcuts you’d both learned while traveling together. But when he reached the broken ridge just before the valley dip, time stopped.

There, half-buried in the dirt and loose rock, was the corner of your cloak.

He dropped to his knees without thinking, clawing at the earth with bare hands. His palms split open on sharp stone. He didn’t care. He dug until he found you.

You were lying face-down at the bottom of the slope. A jagged boulder had caught you mid-fall, your body broken around it in a way that no one could survive. Your leg was twisted beneath you, arms limp, your hair matted with dirt and blood. There was a hollow stillness in the air. Not even the insects dared to make noise.

Kinich slid down the last part of the ridge and landed beside you. His hands trembled as he rolled you gently onto your back. Your eyes were open. Still. Unblinking. A smear of red at the corner of your lips.

He froze.

No heartbeat. No breath.

“No…” The word cracked out of him like something torn from his chest. “No, no, no—”

He cradled you in his arms, pulling you close, like that could bring you back. His blood-streaked fingers cupped your face, tried to wipe away the dirt, the blood, the death. But you were already gone. Your body had already started to lose its warmth.

“I should’ve gone after you,” he whispered, voice shaking. “I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve said something, anything.”

He held you tighter, as if the gods might pity him and return what they took.

“I promised I’d protect you.”

His vision blurred. He hadn’t cried in years. Not since he was a boy whose mother slipped away one night, leaving him behind to face the bruises and silence that followed. He remembered the cold shock on his skin when he realized she was gone, and the way his father’s drunken rage became the new normal. That kind of neglect had carved a hollow inside him. He remembered feeling utterly alone until he fled over tree branches and cliffs to escape his father’s fists until the day his father chased him and tumbled off a cliff to his death. Kinich had to drag that man’s body back himself, a seven-year-old forced to carry a burden he should never have known. That night felt too familiar now. That same abandonment, that same freezing emptiness had found him again in the moment he held you.

The weight of his promise to protect you crushed him, the vow he’d made when he was just a child, determined never to let someone he loved slip away without him there to shield them.

And now, you were gone. His voice caught on your name as he whispered it like a prayer to the silent night.

And yet, here you were.

Gone.

The scouts found him there long after night had fallen. They didn’t speak when they saw him. Just slowed, knelt, and quietly unrolled a stretcher made of thick cloth and wooden poles. One of them reached out to help, but he flinched back like their hands were fire.

“Don’t,” he said quietly, voice rough with tears. “Be gentle.”

They waited. Let him have his time. Eventually, with hands that would not stop shaking, he lifted your body and laid you onto the stretcher. The fabric immediately stained red beneath you.

They began the walk back through the forest. Kinich walked beside them. Not leading. Not trailing. Just there. Existing. Breathing like it hurt. His hand never left the edge of the stretcher, brushing your fingers even as they turned cold.

When they reached shelter, Kinich didn’t go inside. He sat outside in the grass, blood dried on his skin, your sword beside him. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. The stars refused to show themselves, hiding behind thick clouds like they, too, could not bear to look at him.

That night felt like the night his parents died.

He couldn’t stop seeing it. Their bodies in the ruins. The smell of smoke. The overwhelming weight in his chest. Back then, he had knelt in the dirt and sworn he would never be that helpless again.

But he was.

He had been.

He stared at his hands, torn and stained. They weren’t strong enough. Not to save you. Not to hold back the world when it came for the only person left who made him feel like he was more than a weapon.

He thought about what you said before you walked away. That you weren’t sure if he still cared. That you were tired of wondering if you meant anything to him.

He should have answered you.

He should have begged you to stay.

Now all he could do was sit in the cold, stare at the empty space beside him, and hope that wherever your soul had gone, it knew the truth.

You had meant everything.

Kaedehara Kazuha

They had split up briefly, just for a moment.

You were scouting ahead while Kazuha moved quietly along the edge of the ravine, eyes alert for any sign of danger. The land was deceptively still, but the strange tracks told him something was wrong. In Inazuma, even the quietest places could hide death, and neither of you could afford carelessness. Ten minutes apart, maybe fifteen. It was supposed to be safe.

Then a sharp whistle cut through the silence, like a blade slicing through the calm. Kazuha’s heart dropped.

He sprinted toward the clearing, every muscle tense, every breath a prayer.

But he was too late.

You lay on the ground, unmoving, beside a fallen tree. The earth beneath you was stained dark with blood, and the air smelled of iron and smoke. Your weapon was slipped from your grasp, your hand resting limply on the soil. You looked so fragile, like a fallen petal, broken and unable to move.

He dropped beside you, hands shaking violently as he pressed a palm to your chest. No warmth. No beat.

He felt for your neck, desperate for breath, for any sign of life. Nothing.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, voice breaking under the weight of his panic. “Please, don’t leave me. Stay with me.”

Tears blurred his vision, stinging and hot against his cheeks. His fingers trembled as they tried to hold the wound closed, but the blood kept slipping through, unstoppable.

“You were supposed to wait for me,” he choked out, voice raw. “I was supposed to protect you. Why weren’t you waiting? Why wasn’t I there?”

The wind howled around him, sharp and cold as grief itself. It tangled in his hair and clawed at his heart, echoing his pain.

He gathered you into his arms, cradling you like something too precious to lose. His forehead pressed gently to yours, breath hitching as he whispered your name over and over, hoping the sound could bring you back.

The world around him grew distant and muted.

He barely noticed when villagers arrived, drawn by the sounds of battle and smoke. They laid a stretcher on the ground, crafted from wood and fabric, with hands that trembled at the weight of the moment.

“May we help?” one asked softly.

Kazuha could only hold you tighter and whisper one word.

“Careful.”

It was no command, just a desperate plea.

They lifted you with reverence, steadying your limp form. Kazuha’s fingers brushed the cloth covering your arm, refusing to let go until you were safe beneath shelter’s fragile roof.

That night, Kazuha sat alone beneath a sky heavy with thick, unyielding clouds. The stars were hidden, swallowed by darkness, and even the familiar crackling fire beside him seemed weak and lifeless, its flickering light barely reaching beyond the small circle of warmth. The air was cold and damp, seeping through his clothes and chilling his skin. His hands were stained with blood, not just yours but his own from the frantic attempts to save you, and the stains felt like a permanent mark of his failure.

He sat motionless, shoulders hunched, as if carrying the weight of the entire world on his back. His heart felt shattered, splintered into countless pieces too small to gather. The poems he used to write so effortlessly, verses that once danced on the breeze like a song, now lay abandoned beside him, meaningless and hollow. Words could not reach through the pain that gripped him.

Each breath was a struggle, tight and uneven, like the wind itself had forgotten how to blow gently. His mind replayed the moment over and over, each replay twisting the knife sharper, the sound of your body hitting the ground, the coldness of your skin beneath his hands, the helplessness as the life he loved slipped away.

He thought of all the things left unsaid, all the times he had promised to protect you, to keep you safe, and in this silence those promises felt like lies.

Kazuha’s gaze drifted toward the grass, moving softly in the night wind, but the wind no longer brought comfort. Instead, it whispered sorrow, carrying away all hope. His eyes burned from unshed tears, but he could not let them fall. To cry was to admit defeat, and he had already lost too much.

His thoughts spiraled into the quiet despair of what could have been. What if he had been just a moment faster? What if he had stayed closer? What if he had done something different? The questions came without answers, haunting him deeper than any blade.

His breath hitched, voice barely audible as he murmured your name into the night, a fragile prayer for forgiveness, for a second chance, for a miracle that would never come.

The night stretched on, long and merciless, while Kazuha remained rooted in place, trapped in the aching silence left behind by your absence. The world around him felt colder, emptier, as if the light inside him had been snuffed out alongside yours.

And still, he waited for the wind to bring something back, a sign, a memory, a trace of you, but the wind carried nothing but sorrow.

Kamisato Ayato

The moon hung low and heavy in the ink-black sky, its pale light filtering softly through the translucent shōji screens of the Kamisato Estate. The soft creak of wooden beams, the delicate rustling of silk kimonos, and the faint murmur of the bamboo chimes carried by the gentle Inazuman breeze created an atmosphere of serene calm that belied the storm gathering just beyond the estate gates.

Ayato had sent you on a simple task, one that should have required nothing more than a brief walk to a trusted ally’s residence a short distance away. The papers you carried were important; delicate negotiations that needed to be handled with discretion and care. He had watched you depart across the gravel stone path, your figure framed against the soft glow of paper lanterns hanging like fireflies among the blossoming cherry trees. The subtle scent of sandalwood clung to you, mingling with the faint aroma of sakura petals drifting in the night air.

He should have felt assured. After all, the estate was guarded, and the path was familiar. But a shadow of unease gnawed at him; a premonition he tried to suppress. Still, he had faith in your strength, in your ability to navigate danger as you always did.

But fate has a cruel way of twisting even the best intentions.

You walked steadily, the quiet crunch of gravel beneath your feet the only sound accompanying you as the moonlight traced your silhouette. Then, from the darkness, the bandits emerged like sinister phantoms; silent but deadly, their cloaks merging with the night. Their eyes glimmered with cruel anticipation as they closed the distance, cutting off your escape.

The world contracted in that moment; breath caught in your throat, heartbeat pounding wildly as your hand instinctively reached for the blade at your side. But there were too many; the odds were impossible.

Then, as if summoned by desperation, a figure appeared from the shadows, Ayato. His presence was a calm force in the chaos, his eyes sharp, movements fluid and precise. His sword caught the moonlight in a steady arc, cutting through the air with a practiced grace that betrayed no hint of panic.

The clash was swift and brutal. Ayato moved like water; flowing, precise, deadly. The bandits hesitated, faltered, but their numbers pressed on relentlessly. You felt a rush of relief, heart swelling to see him there, but it was short-lived.

An arrow, silent and swift, flew through the night air, striking you with cruel accuracy. Time seemed to slow. Your breath hitched painfully, a sharp, burning sensation blossoming in your side. Your knees buckled.

“No,” Ayato’s voice broke through the haze, quiet, but heavy with a sharp edge that cut deeper than any blade. He was at your side before you could collapse, catching you with unyielding arms. His hand pressed firmly against the wound, desperate to stem the bleeding even as his own heart shattered with the weight of failure.

Your eyes met his, wide, shimmering with shock, pain, and a flicker of fear that he had never seen before. The world blurred around you both, a cruel silence settling as the last bandits fled into the shadows, defeated but leaving behind devastation.

Ayato’s grip tightened, a desperate promise in his whispered words. “I have you. You will not leave me.”

But beneath his calm exterior, a storm raged panic, guilt, and heartbreak entwined in an unbearable knot.

He lifted you with gentle care, the fabric of your kimono dampened by blood, your weight growing lighter even as his desperation deepened. The guards arrived swiftly with a bamboo stretcher, woven tightly with heavy cloth, simple, sturdy, a testament to the harsh reality of their world.

Carrying you back through the stone path lined with sakura, Ayato’s mind raced. Every moment was a memory flashing too quickly, your smile as you left, your quiet strength, the way your fingers had brushed his palm earlier in the day. How had he failed to protect you?

Sliding open the shōji doors, the quiet warmth of the estate enveloped him. Paper lanterns cast a gentle glow over the tatami mats, but the soft light was cold against the heaviness in his chest.

He laid you gently on a futon, the room suddenly too silent, too still. He stayed close, fingers trembling as he brushed damp hair from your pale face, searching for any sign of the person he loved.

The lead healer approached, bowing deeply, sorrow darkening their eyes. “Ayato-sama... her wound is grave. We have done all we can.”

Ayato’s breath caught. The room seemed to tilt, the weight of the words sinking into his bones.

“No,” he whispered, voice fragile yet fierce. “You’re wrong. She must live.”

Tears spilled over as he sank to his knees beside you, clutching the fabric of your kimono as if holding on to your very soul. His heart fractured with every shallow breath you took, every fleeting flutter of life fading beneath his touch.

“I promised to protect you,” he murmured brokenly, the pain in his voice raw and aching. “How... how could I let this happen?”

Outside, the wind stirred the bamboo chimes, their soft ringing a mournful echo in the stillness. Sakura petals drifted gently through the open window, falling like whispered goodbyes onto the wooden floor.

Ayato stayed there long after the healers left, cradling your silent form in the quiet shadows of the night. The elegant calm he always wore was gone, replaced by a profound sorrow that threatened to consume him whole.

In that moment, beneath the fragile beauty of Inazuma’s cherry blossoms, a promise remained unfulfilled and a heart shattered beyond repair.

[naluvva]

EAT SLOWER!! ᗒᗣᗕ

Synopsis: Based on that trend from tiktok where you match your partners eating pace!

Notes: first post haha

五条悟 (Gojo Satoru)

He probably eats at a semi-fast pace? He just likes to eat quickly but also savor the flavor of what he's eating.

He immediately notices your phone propped up though, so he's suspicious of what you're doing and questions you nonstop. Regardless, you go on with the trend of matching his eating pace. You may or may not be able to match his. If you eat slower you might as well try and distract him with something hypnotizing so you can catch up! But if you eat fast or faster than him then you may find yourself waiting and this trend is easy enough. He does notice after a little (esp if you keep stealing glances at him!) and starts eating faster until you're forced to call off the trend. If you start coughing or sighing he might laugh but he'll get you water. He either knows about the trend or doesn't (he most likely does).

乙骨憂太 (Okkotsu Yuta)

He eats fast. Have you seen him in that one scene; he was literally inhaling the food!

Besides that, he probably doesn't notice or care about you propping up your phone in front of you guys. Even if you eat fast, he's probably faster (acting like he's never eaten in years). You're wondering whether he even chews his food at this point.

Although I think he'd be a little oblivious about what you're doing, just thinking that it's you're normal eating pace or that you're in a rush. If you start coughing, he becomes worried and starts asking if you're okay, he even shoves water in your face if it's really bad. You end up telling him about the trend after you feel you should end it to which he responds in a surprised manner. Even then he tells you it's better to just eat at your own pace (he's worried you might choke on ur food. To be fair he doesn't seem like the type to have a lot of socials so I doubt he knows about the trend.

狗巻棘 (Inumaki Toge)

Eats slow but fast?? Like he takes a big bite and then chews forever because he's usually on his phone (most likely watching mukbangs).

He definitely knows about the trend, I mean he probably is the type of guy to have lots of socials. So when he sees your phone in front of the both of you he's a bit suspicious of it but honestly pays no mind to it eventually. Regardless of whether you eat slowly or quickly, you're gonna get a little irritated at how he just chews his food forever! You definitely sigh at this which gets his attention; he side-eyes you and recognizes the trend because of how odd you're currently being but doesn't really jump to conclusions until he just starts trolling you by stuffing his mouth until it's proven true. In the end, he sends you a text telling you that he knows you're doing the trend on him. (erm so much for that trend..)

[naluvva]

𝑵𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Hi! I’m Nana!

I write for BlueLock, Genshin, RE, JJK, and Haikyuu

Rules

Navigation is still a work in progress!

[naluvva]

𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔

I don’t write smut but suggestive is okay.

Please ask for angst (i beg)

No rape, noncon, dubcon, or anything related.

Angst including death, suicide, violence, etc is okay. (just be aware the intensity will not be crazy)