growl.

               𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥,  𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥,  𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡,  these towering buildings that scrape the sky and eclipse the sun are,  ironically,  all she has left to cling to.  they are impassive,  reflections in the glass as emotionless as the ties to them and the land they stand on,  but they mean wealth and fortune,  enough so that the blood of legions have been spilled time and time again over territories,  over objects,  that shouldn’t mean anything.

rangiku has lost enough in this wretched city of metal skeletons and cracked concrete where even weeds struggle to thrive.  she has lost her beloved,  her best friend,  and the remains of his empire rest in her trembling hands that don’t yet know how to fight to keep it all from crumbling down in a pile of rubble and ash around her feet.  ruthless as she could be,  as strong and capable as she is,  she doesn’t know how to manage all of this alone.  it was not her stake to claim,  and yet she finds it in her hands with the broken masses staring at her,  clinging to her.  it is her family,  now.  she never wanted to lead them,  that had been his job,  but he is gone now.  and now,  slowly,  little by little and day by day,  she finds faces that don’t belong to her upon lands that were once her own,  the faces of dead men once loyal to her,  the faces of family who have turned their backs on her.

she blinks in her brooding silence.  daylight fades from her eyes,  and with it went the glow of radiance and its warmth.  it’s a flickering,  dying flame that howling winds threaten to snuff out,  but these winds are just a gentle breeze and the flame is weak without heart.  sitting up,  she forces a smile to rest over her lips.  her brooding lasted only a fraction of a second,  but beneath an observant eye,  it is a thousand years.  a fingertip runs along the edge of her cup,  plastic and clear and stained with the rouge of her lips.  her eyes flicker up,  meeting the gaze of eyes so steely and cold as the buildings of the city  ;  they carry the same depth that shatters her in awe and renders her breathless in wonder.

     “ there is a time for resting and a time for working. it would be in your best interest to separate the two. that is, if one should like to keep their career. ” he lowers her leg with the stack of papers. a sigh, “ linger if you must, but sit properly. ” his affections are, admittedly, limited. and yet, he trusts that she has come to understand him. limited but not nonexistent and most certainly sincere above all else.  “ and it’s captain kuchiki, i won’t repeat myself. ”

               𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.  she blinks up at him,  plump lips pushed out just slightly,  halfway to twisting,  and her eyes wide and bordering on faux innocence in the flutter of her lashes as he bids her leg’s descent back down upon the sofa.  hair flies out of her face as she huffs,  and she is pouting in full,  now.

     silver eyes match her glare, despite it all, her sapphire gaze is still one of warmth and sunlight and summer kisses. and he knows the love that is born on the shores of her eyes, and affections that spill from her fingertips, and chrysanthemums that grow in flowerpots on the windowsill of their bedroom. and he knows he is hard on her. and he knows she doesn’t mind.

     “ i don’t use the couch. my officers and any visiting officers very well do. shall i tell them not mind the lieutenant shirking her responsibilities in my office ? besides, i would be looking at the work at hand, not you. ”

               𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐲,  𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐜𝐲,  𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 looking in,  he is as stoic as ever,  but she knows,  in the depths of her heart and all of its love that swallows him whole,  that he only teases,  and it’s his own display of love to live in the comfort of even being able to play and dance around soft jokes.  rangiku loves him for it,  and despite the heat of her glare and how she wills her cerulean eyes to burn minuscule holes into his haori,  she loves him,  unconditionally,  all  -  consumingly.

@haimire​​.

     “ matsumoto — ” he sighs, “ matsumoto, wake up. ” he stares at her curled form on his couch, golden blonde hair tussled with sleep and carelessness. he glances at the stack of paperwork in his hands and back to her sleeping face. thwack !  he brings down the papers with just enough force to her forehead. “ get up. i’m sure you haven’t considered it but i actually use my office. ”

               𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡.  at least,  that was before she was so unceremoniously smacked in the face.  a quiet noise of discontent slips from her mouth as she groggily begins to sit up,  hand rising to rub the sting that remains sore upon her forehead.  her eyes are lazily in their ascension,  wandering up as they settle into a glare made only for her beloved’s eyes.

               𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩,  but it isn’t as if they are all familiar with one another,  anyways.  rangiku often lives amongst the humans,  but she makes her home,  and her bed,  amongst the supernatural.  she is warmth personified,  the sun shining brightly in a midnight canvas where its light would otherwise be devoid and only that of the moon and its cold,  white,  luminescent glow.  she offers this warmth,  her kindness,  to all with open arms.

she carefully tilts her head to the side,  honey  -  gold tresses spilling over her shoulder,  brushing against her bare skin,  in a gentle cascade at the knock upon her door.  rangiku sets her pen down upon her table,  quickly hopping to her feet in her rise to greet the arrival.  strange.  she isn’t expecting anyone.  she is faced by a head of silken locks as white as snow,  an unforgettably and unmistakably rich,  pool of liquid gold.  her lips spread,  ear to ear,  and she has to stop herself short of tackling him in a snake’s embrace.