#quiet hours

[xxsoftfocusxx]

[thegentlemanschronicles]

Before the noise… there’s this.

[igotsnothing]

Just a boy living out his cowboy fantasies.

Gorgeous pose by @bluexxxxx.

[trials-of-a-dove]

somedays I worry I’m going to end up like the snitch or the union boss. That I’ll taste the same blood they do, wake up to burlap rubbing my skin raw. I’m shocked they didn’t throw me into the judge’s seat as soon as they could.

[kuroken-divorce-arc]

Shirabu Kenjirou — Quiet Hours

(timeskip era, fluff, slice of life, soft domestic studying)

│ he studies like his life depends on it… but somehow he always ends up watching you instead of the page

Day 27 of the 31 Days of Haikyuu Winter

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

the apartment is quiet in that late-night way — soft shadows thrown by the desk lamp, the hum of the heater filling the silence, the windowpane fogged faintly where winter presses against the glass. textbooks sprawl across the low table, pens scattered, notes layered in precise columns that only shirabu could ever make look intentional.

he sits on the floor beside you, back straight, hair falling slightly into his eyes no matter how many times he tries to tuck it behind his ear. he has that focused look he always has when studying — jaw set, brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin thoughtful line.

but he keeps glancing at you.

every two minutes. like clockwork. like he can’t help himself.

you stretch under the blanket draped over your lap. “you’re staring.”

he stiffens, eyes snapping back to his notes.

“i wasn’t.”

“kenjirou.”

“…i was checking your handwriting.”

you raise an eyebrow. “my handwriting hasn’t moved in five minutes.”

he sighs — that tiny, irritated-but-not-irritated exhale he does when he’s caught caring more than he wants to admit.

“you were quiet,” he mutters. “i thought you fell asleep.”

“would that be bad?”

he pauses, pen hovering above the page.

“…no,” he says softly. “just… cold, maybe.”

your heart warms.

you pull the blanket out toward him, lifting one corner in offering.

“come here.”

he blinks like you asked him to move to another country.

“i’m studying.”

“you can study under the blanket.”

“…that’s impractical.”

“kenjirou.”

he inhales sharply — looks at the equations he’s writing, looks at you, looks at the blanket — then finally, reluctantly, scoots under it with you.

and the second he’s beneath the shared warmth, his shoulders drop. his posture softens. his breath warms the air between you.

he tries to pretend nothing changed. except it did. you can feel it in the way his knee brushes yours under the blanket, how he adjusts so your thighs touch, how the tension he carries like armor melts out of him moment by moment.

you stand briefly to make tea.

shirabu watches the kettle like it offended him by taking too long. when you place the mug beside him, he wraps his hands around it immediately, soaking in the warmth with a soft sigh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, voice quieter than the steam rising from the cup.

you sit beside him again, leaning gently into his shoulder. his pen moves steadily across the page until your head rests lightly against him… and he stops mid-sentence.

“are you comfortable?” he asks, voice thin.

“very.”

he swallows. “…okay.”

the heater hums softly, the tea cools on the table, and the lamp casts long shadows over your joined notes. after a few minutes, his head tilts — the smallest lean — until it rests against yours.

you pretend you don’t notice the way his breathing changes. he pretends he didn’t do it on purpose.

minutes pass. the room grows warmer. the winter cold stays locked behind the windows.

shirabu’s handwriting gets slower and slower, his pen dragging just slightly as sleep tugs at the edges.

“kenjirou,” you whisper, “you’re tired.”

“i’m not,” he insists, fully lying.

you lift the blanket and wrap it around both of you, tucking it snug around his shoulders. he blinks hard, forcing his eyes to stay open, but they flutter anyway.

a few more seconds. one more page. half a sentence. and then—

his head drops softly onto your shoulder.

you smile, shifting just enough to support him better. he makes a tiny sound — a low, sleepy exhale — and leans into you fully, all his weight, all his warmth.

his glasses slide slightly down his nose.

you slide them off gently. he doesn’t stir.

you whisper, “you did enough for tonight.”

shirabu doesn’t respond — not with words — but his fingers curl around your wrist under the blanket, holding on in quiet, instinctual affection.

you sit like that for a long time. wrapped in warmth, soft breaths shared, snow falling faintly outside.

eventually, he murmurs in half-sleep:

“…stay like this.”

you brush your thumb over his hand.

“i will.”

and he sleeps — peacefully, finally — tucked against you in the quiet hours of winter.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

Day 27 of the 31 Days of Haikyuu Winter

[the-wordsof-arling]

Title: To The Night

Listen to my words as i write this out loud,

You're quiet and peaceful not even a single sound.

My comfort and my favorite hours,

Being in the night on quiet hours.

The stars in the black night sky,

Shine so bright i could go blind.

This is a letter to the stars and moon,

Grateful for them for comforting my wounds.

I always waited for the sun to go down,

Cause only the night can understand.

Only the stars can keep me in peace,

Only the moon listens to me speak.

The sun is bright and full of energy,

The moon is quiet, comforting me.

The sun talks, never ending.

The moon and stars, listens to every story.

Cause only the night can understand,

The pain i held in my hands.

How the daylight is so cruel,

Only the night time can heal the truth.

I wish the night never ends,

I don't want to sleep and wake up again.

I don't want to see sun,

Where everyone is awake looking for fun.

The night is all i want,

The moon i wait for it to show up.

The stars i try to find in the sky,

Hoping for it to hear my pleading cries.

The moon and stars are comfort,

The sun is cruel it watches me suffer.

Everyone in the day just judge my imperfection,

While the night cups my face telling me i am perfection.

The moon and stars are my comfort,

Only the night listens to my suffer.

I wish the night never ends,

So i could be in peace over and over again.

I want to be with the night,

I want to stay looking up at the sky.

I want to be with the stars and moon,

Cause only then i'll finally rest with a peaceful heart like everyone does.

[makin-blinkin-pancakes]

blinkie for one of my fav albums <3

made by me. free to use, credit appreciated but not required

[remindsremindsremindsme]

i have turned this corner once before

REST