For Her

For her, life was filled with lazy afternoons with a landscape of paperwork, and a desk for a pillow.

Her long copper hair splayed artfully around pale shoulders, and fell down into the shadowed valley between her breasts.

Sleepy gray eyes, which could be both piercing and oblivious.

A joker.

A flirt.

An actor.

Thin walls were infiltrated by the muffled buzz of human life, and faraway grunts of training.

Those solemn gray eyes stole glances outside into the grassy training grounds of the tenth division.

Golden sunlight filtered through the office, and Matsumoto's brush strokes on the paper failed altogether.

A cat-like growl escaped pouted lips.

She hated paperwork.

She became a shinigami for the excitement, the romance, the fun.

Not for the damned paperwork; even her dreams were filled with ink, and her hands were black with the stuff.

A gentle breeze from the open window stirred up papers and copper hair.

Another feminine sigh.

She desperately hoped that Renji and Ikkaku were free that night, because these papers were driving her insane. Only the warm veil of sake, and the lusty advances of men would let her sleep ready for another day of monotony and wasted afternoons.

But she couldn't go anywhere if the paperwork was still as mountainous as it appeared to be at the moment.

ink

Clashes of wooden poles from the training grounds.

stamp

Another lulling breeze brought with it the scent of honey

sign

She could imagine the husky tone of Renji's whispers in her ear, and the roaming hands of Ikkaku. It made her feel safe, wanted, if a little repulsed.

ink

This is what her life had been reduced to. Work, sighs, and cheap kisses in the night.

stamp

And the blur of sake would take her to sleep.

sign

Orange sunset masked the room.

A slowly breathing torso sprawled on the desk in a tangle of hair and paper, dead asleep.

The swift, shadowed footsteps of her white haired captain.

And she was slacking off. Again.

His fully intended to shout at her.

His lungs ballooned with air, ready.

But before the words formed, she shifted on the desk, mumbling incoherently.

A perfect white eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

So he marched over to the desk, and gathered an armful of paper documents.

Matsumoto had her nose rested deep within the ink well.

Honestly, the woman was a klutz.

In a fluster of robes, the taichou walked wearily back to his office and began the paperwork.

ink

As the sun dipped below the jagged horizon of seireitei, and a thin sliver of a moon illuminated a cloudy purple night; pale hands tore methodically into the work.

Copper hair coloured an empty desk.

The taichou sighed; his meeting with Hinamori would have to wait.

Jeez, the things he did for Matsumoto.

But he would shout at her in the morning.

For now he would let her sleep, and hope that the ink never washed off her nose.

stamp

A landscape of paperwork…

sign.

…and a desk for a pillow.

A/N:Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, I promise it will get steamier in later chapters :) Please review, because it might make a new chapter magically appear a lot faster *wink wink nudge nudge*

xx Rose