#aizen fic

+ aizen x reader

+ chapter two of this fic: moth to a flame << please read this first!

+ tybw spoilers below !!!

summary: war is looming and so are the ever-present memories of your ex-husband. aizen has officially turned his back on soul society and your marriage… at least that’s what you think. chance encounters with aizen amidst a century-worn war spark an internal battle that you aren’t sure you can win, and unconditional love and visceral hatred clash at the helm as you try to forget and move on—much to the dismay of your ex-husband, a man who, by every means, seems intent on winning you back.

“Are you ready?” Byakuya’s voice permeates your bedroom door and settles into the air alongside the scent you had just sprayed. The fragrance is all too familiar—deep vanilla with a subtle hint of smoked maple. Warm and intoxicating. 

Anyone who’s not a fool understands how unhealthy it is to keep and use your murdering, traitorous, son-of-a-bitch ex-husband’s cologne, but love has blinded you and made you foolish. 

You can’t help it. You can’t help the sense of safety and comfort the scent brings as it wraps itself around you, clinging like the last of a lifeline. You can’t help but freeze anytime you try to throw it out—hand directly over the bin, unable to let go and waiting for a drop that will never come. 

You can’t help the love you still hold for him… even as it eats away at you until nothing but a shell of your former self is left. 

“Yeah! Just… just give me a moment,” you call out in response after a pause of uneasy hesitation. You take a deep breath, allowing yourself a second of reprieve before you step out to meet the 6th Division Captain. 

When Byakuya asked you to accompany him to a formal dinner with the rest of the Gotei, you were stunned… to say the least. In fact, you didn’t even give him an answer until 48 hours later, when you had fully processed his request. When you finally accepted, the soft smile that split across his features was worth it, despite the reservations, you harboured in the back of your mind. 

When you gave him your answer, he thanked you… actually thanked you for agreeing to be his date. That gesture almost made you backtrack everything. It’s like you were almost toying with him—playing with his hope like a piper would the flute. 

Byakuya is kind, gentle, and patient. He cares for you in a way so pure and unblemished that you ache with the knowledge that you can’t give him what he wants—what he deserves. At least not while Aizen exists. 

You make your way to the door, shaking the swarming thoughts of Aizen away, and with a heavy breath, you open it to greet Byakuya. He stands before you, donned in all-white attire and carrying a small bouquet of roses in one hand. His eyes are wide as saucers as you step into his view. 

You crack a smile. “Good evening, Captain.”

————

The formal dinner turns into a party mid-way as alcohol gets passed around more frequently. Byakuya has gone off to talk to some clan elders about matters you don’t particularly care for. To sober up and escape the noise, you find yourself wandering the deepest part of the gardens until you come across a familiar bench. 

It sits facing a stunning pond, the water filled with otherworldly fauna and flora that decorate the glistening surface. Crickets tick in the nearby bushes, their sounds only overpowered by the gentle rushing sounds of the waterfall carved from the east bank. 

You take a seat and close your eyes, savouring the rare moment of peace. The night is young, and the air is gentle on your scorching skin—the effects of the alcohol in your system. It’s a relatively normal amount, but you get red, no matter the dosage. Just a drop and you could be used as a signal for oncoming traffic in the human world. 

Aizen used to tease you about it all the time, making stupid jokes that weren’t actually funny but made you laugh anyway. He’d give you a knowing smile, look right into your eyes and say—

“It’s a good thing my favourite colour is red.”

All of a sudden, the world stops. 

No. No. 

You turn and blink at Aizen standing before you, hair bright underneath the moonlight. He looks different, yet much too similar, all at the same time. 

This isn’t real, you think. So in your alcohol-induced haze, you decide that it isn’t. 

“Wow. Pretty accurate for a hallucination. What the hell was in that shot Retsu gave me?” You whisper the last part, just realizing how far from sobriety you are. 

Made-Up Aizen steps forward, inching closer until you’re less than three feet apart. “Hallucination? How much have you had to drink, love?”

Has his voice always been so gentle? So full of adoration?

You decide to humour Fake Aizen. “Hmm… three plus five plus eight minus six?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement, hands folded behind his back as he watches you wiggle your fingers, trying to work out the numbers. There is less than four metres of space between you. 

You frown. “I think I did the math wrong. How many fingers is eleven?”

“Just a bit more than you have,” he replies softly. 

Not-Real Aizen smiles slightly at the sight of your pout and moves forward to drop down next to you on the stone bench. The two of you stare out at the water. The reflection of the stars is so vibrant on the pond’s surface that you’re tempted to scoop them up and count them in your hands. 1… 2… 3… until reality flows no longer and your problems fade into the weathers of passing time. Sadly, Problem #1 is currently sitting right next to you, eyes fixated on you as yours are on the fallen stars. 

“You’ve been busy,” he finally says, breaking the silence. 

You don’t take your eyes off the tranquil waters. A black swan glides across, light ripples following in its wake. “I could say the same for you, Dream Aizen.” 

He cocks an eyebrow at your name for him but doesn’t comment on it, instead deciding to play along. “You know how it is, reforming the world and such.”

You finally focus on him, slightly regretting it when you see how he looks at you—the same way he looked at you every day before the night that ruined everything. But you remember he isn’t real—just a cruel figment of your imagination and deepest desires. Perhaps that’s why you can converse with him; pretend everything is back to normal… pretend to be happy again. 

“No, I don’t. You see, I haven’t lost my mind. My balance and sobriety, maybe. But not this.” You knock on your head with your knuckles, only to wince at the contact. 

Not-Actually Aizen only sighs, dipping his head as he replies. “It’s a shame we aren’t in agreement yet.”

“Yet? That’s quite offensive,” you scoff. 

He tilts his head, amusement never straying from his features. “Oh? What is?”

“That you think I’d ever align myself with the likes of you. Offensive,” you affirm. 

The curve of his mouth only widens for a second before his usual mellow appearance replaces it. 

“We are meant to be together, _____. My plans won’t change that,” he assures. 

Irritation bubbles up at the insinuation—no matter what happens, you would never be desperate enough to be with a man who is so far beyond help. 

“My morals do. You know I’d never abandon those.”

“I know that you love me, and I love you. That you and I being on opposite sides—there’s no logic to that.” 

To that, you can only sigh and shake your head, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall in front of your face.

Not even a millisecond later, he leans forward. Suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of your surroundings and of his eyes locked on yours. You look away, but that doesn’t deter him. 

He is close enough that his breath runs hot on the skin of your neck. The proximity has your head spinning faster than the speed of light—and your own breath hitches as his gaze catches yours again. For an illusion, the warmth of his body feels all too real, and the look he gives you, far-too intense. 

“Is that my cologne?” He murmurs, the question almost too low for you to make out. 

“I ran out of everything else,” you lie. 

“Why would you need… “He pauses and straightens a moment after as an inkling of realization settles in his mind. It causes his jaw to tense. 

His hand moves and takes a strand of your hair between his fingers. You should pull back, but something stops you and pushes you to lean closer. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s knowing he isn’t real. Maybe it’s the part of you that aches in his absence. 

“Are you here alone?” He then spots the accessory on your wrist. Turns out Byakuya also got a corsage to match the roses. “No, of course not.”

“I didn’t come with anyone,” you reply. The lie rolls off your tongue as easily as breathing. You have no reason to protect him from the truth. In fact, you should be lording it over him. Making it known that you’ve moved on—even if you haven’t. 

He blinks. “You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

“Apparently, you’ve always been a great one,” you retort. 

He ignores that comment. You sniff—it was pretty clever. 

“Was it Captain Kyoraku? Someone from one of the noble clans? Tell me, _____. Who have you employed as my temporary replacement?” His fingers stay tangled in your hair, playing with the strands like he used to when lulling you to sleep. For some unfathomable reason, you let him. 

“My date is none of your concern.”

He cocks his head. “On the contrary. As your husband, anyone you are concerned with is my concern.”

You begin to protest. “Ex-husband—”

He interrupts you. “And as your husband, it is only right for me to inquire about your dalliances. So who is it?” A smirk plays on his lips, “Does he know you’re wearing another man’s cologne?”

You give up on trying to correct him. Aizen has always had a streak of stubbornness. “I know he’s mature enough not to care.”

Hallucinated Aizen pulls back from you, not too far, but with enough distance that you can breathe again. His hand, however, never leaves its spot next to your face, teasingly playing with your locks. 

Aizen couldn’t pull his hand away even if he wanted to, though that desire could never wane. As magnets are to each other, you are the same to Aizen—he craves your contact… your touch… your very existence bound to his own. You two are forces unexplained, only alive when together, and vessels of resistance when apart. 

To have spent all this time away from you has been torturous, certainly. But to find out another man is daring to claim what’s his? What will always be his? That insult has truly driven him mad. The calm facade he wears so intimately is on the verge of crumbling the longer he stares at that disgusting flower tied to your wrist. The thought of burning that wretched thing alongside the person who gave it to you, then whisking you far, far away, is overwhelmingly tempting. The only thing preventing Aizen from doing so is knowing he would lose you completely. 

“I won’t let that happen….”

“Hm? Did you say something?” You swear he did, but it was so quiet you missed it. 

With a shake of the head, he denies it and fully removes himself from your space, deciding instead to join you in observing the pond’s activities. Though skeptical, you choose to leave it alone. 

You close your eyes and relish the night breeze, only to peek at the man beside you after a few minutes of silence. Nature long forgotten, his eyes are transfixed on you, slowly scanning you up-and-down, as if committing the image of you to memory. 

After a moment, he speaks up, voices a little strained. “Ah… so you came with Byakuya. Safe choice. Though you were never one to play it safe.”

You blink, half in confusion, half in shock. “What? How did you…?”

“The rose. It’s from his gardens, is it not?”

Damn it. 

“I hate how smart you are,” you mumble. 

He smiles a bit at that. “You used to think my intelligence to be one of my greatest qualities.”

That damned, godforsaken smile. It ruins you completely. Every single time it graces his face, it fucking obliterates you. 

“I hate how smart you are and how kind you used to be,” you add. The sudden need to get everything out in the open takes hold of you. “I hate your lies and the pain you caused and will continue to cause.” 

He opens his mouth, maybe an apology on his tongue, but one that goes unheard as you interrupt and continue. 

“But most of all? I hate the fact that I can’t hate you… not even for a second, not ever,” you breathe, letting the truth sit between you, as heavy and deep as the blood on his hands.

Silence rings out, lingering for a few seconds too long for comfort. His voice is uncharacteristically quiet as he finally responds. “I know.”

You take a deep breath. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t move on. Doesn’t mean I can’t love someone else.”

His demeanour crumbles for a fraction of a second before his mask of indifference slips back into place. You’re able to catch it, though—Aizen is shaken. “You don’t mean that.”

“You chose your own path, Aizen, and the moment you stepped foot onto it, I was no longer a part of it—a part of you. You decided on a life that held no place for me.”

Your husband—ex-husband—flinches. A rare sight, if there ever was one. “Don’t. You will always be a part of me, and I you.”

Your gaze drops, as does your stomach. The heavier the topic delves, the heavier your heart sinks. “That’s only in the past.”

“We are not a thing of the past,” he states, tone even, despite how tightly he grips the side of the bench, hard enough that his veins surface and fingertips turn white. You ignore the part of you that wants to take his hand in your own and check for calluses—to take away his pain. 

“We are not a thing at all,” you stress. The tension rises, and you only serve to add fuel to the fire. “And we never will be again.”

Because of you. Because of the choice you made. 

He makes a disapproving noise but doesn’t comment on it further. Another few minutes of uncomfortable silence stretches until you decide to break it. 

“It’s strange,” you muse. 

“What is?”

The realization creeps up slowly, like paint dripping down an infinite canvas. “I’m almost certain I’m sobered up, yet you’re still here.”

Another beautiful, devastating smile from Aizen—the real Aizen. “Where else would I be other than with my love?”

You snort. “Off, god-knows-where, trying to take over the world?”

“It’s my off-day,” he jokes. You find no humour in it. 

You sigh, chin resting in your palm. “So, you’re real.”

For some reason, you aren’t freaked out. His presence, though unwarranted, has and will always bring a sense of comfort. That feeling is one you don’t think time itself could weather away. 

He sits his chin on the back of his folded hands, mirroring you. “And you’re still here. With me.”

“Which is exactly why I should get back to my date, and you should leave,” you note. The suggestion is logical. Rational. But it hurts nonetheless. 

“So soon, my love? The night is still young. Are you really that eager to get back to your date?”

There is no humour in your eyes as you reply: “Yes, I am.”

“I see.” If there’s a strain to his voice, you don’t notice. 

Without another word, Aizen stands and takes a step forward. You mentally gather yourself at the last second and let him go… for good this time. 

“Aizen?”

“Yes?’ The hint of hope in his voice does not go unnoticed, and it only makes what you say next much harder. 

“Don’t come back again. Especially not for me.”

Aizen barely reacts, only affording you a stiff nod and sad smile before he disappears without a second glance—so quietly you almost believe him to be an illusion again. 

----------

The next time Aizen is brought up is during Ywhach’s invasion of Soul Society. Shunsui is the one who speaks to you about releasing your ex—a means to turn the tides of war. The Sternritter are closing in much too close for comfort, so to have a winning chance… Shunsui knows what has to be done. Hell, you, in your adamant refusal and hesitation, know what has to be done. The “knowing” is the easy part. The “actually putting thoughts into action” part is what’s causing every nerve in your body to seize up and render you immobile.

“No, no, you can’t. Or I can’t—Shunsui, I haven’t seen him for….” Much too long.

The look Shunsui gives you makes your jaw clench—sunken eyes brimming with pity and remorse. “_____, you know I wouldn’t be suggesting this if there was any other option, but he is the only one who–”

“He is a criminal, or have you forgotten? He deserves to be locked up—to stay in his prison and rot beneath our feet,” you argue.

The words you spit are harsh, but the rising panic in your throat is harsher.

Shunsui doesn’t budge. “He is also our only chance of survival.”

What a laughable irony.

“He would stab our backs with the key we free him with.”

“Checks and balances, ______. There will be restrictions in place.”

“That won’t be enough,” you stress. 

But despite your best efforts, your argument falls on deaf ears. Shunsui made up his mind long before this conversation occurred. He only spoke to you out of courtesy. And perhaps a sense of guilt. 

“It will have to be,” he plainly states. 

The newly appointed Captain-Commander glides past you, the scent of his cologne wafting by as he moves to the door. With a slight tilt of his head, he opens it and gestures with an open palm. 

“Well? Are you coming or not?”

A seemingly innocent question, yet loaded with suffocating pressure. But as much as you despise the idea, you steel yourself and follow in Shunsui’s footsteps to the deepest level of Seireitei; Muken, home of the damned, and currently, the residence of your ex-husband. 

It isn’t long before you arrive at the heavy gates of the prison. The looming doors bring a grim sense of foreboding—a ticking time bomb that cannot be defused. 

Shunsui sets a warm hand on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. In reassurance or apology, you aren’t sure. You ignore the gesture; the only thing on your mind is the anxiety bubbling up inside you, threatening to overflow. 

“Would you like me to go in first? Or with you?” Shunsui asks, sensing your unease. 

You shake your head. “That’s kind, but no. I’ll have more luck convincing him if I’m alone.”

He only nods before moving aside to let you in. 

The first thing you notice is the sheer cold that wraps around you like a blanket of pins and needles. It bores into your bones and seeps into your veins, chilling and paralyzing. It takes you a second to realize that feeling isn’t due to temperature. 

You’re scared. 

And you hate that fear more than you hate him. 

Not fear of Aizen, but fear what you’ll do when you see him… what you’ll feel. 

The gates close behind you with a soft yet heavy thud, encasing you in an echoing darkness that almost blinds you to the path to Aizen. Minutes of deep breaths later, you set a foot forward. Walking through Muken feels like wading through a pool of honey. Time seems to slow to an agonizing crawl as you continue across the darkness. It takes a lifetime and a half, but you finally reach your destination. 

And there he is. Sitting in all his glory, up on the throne he so desperately craved. Head held high, never to be lowered for anyone except you… once upon a time. Aizen shows no hint of surprise as you approach him, but you swear the corner of his visible eye crinkles. You almost blame it on the light, only to remember there’s barely any in the underground prison. 

Seals are strewed across his body, shackling every possible ounce of his power and freedom. You ignore the lump in your throat at the sight; the implication of that pain is something you’d like to leave untouched. 

“I’ve come to—“

“Ask for my help. Yes, I know, and yes, I’ll do it,” Aizen interrupts with his smooth baritone. 

You blink, surprise flitting across your features. “You will? I thought I’d have to fight tooth and nail to convince you.”

“Of course, I will. You asked. Captain Kyorakou’s idea, no doubt, but it worked nonetheless,” Aizen says, gaze never straying from yours. He takes you in, eyes adjusting to your beauty after months alone in a barren landscape, staring at nothing but concrete walls and a blackened void. 

“Then I guess my job here is done.” You turn to leave, ready to get the hell out, only to be stopped by his voice. 

“Wait. _____, wait. Let’s talk.”

You swallow back the nerves crawling up the back of your throat. “We have nothing to talk about.”

“On the contrary, we have so much to catch up on,” he replies. 

You whirl around to face him, nerves long gone, annoyance slipping in its place. “Like what, Aizen? Do you want to talk about how everyone and everything I care about is getting slaughtered and destroyed by the war ravaging my home? About how I am looking at my ex-husband chained up and sealed away to the furthest depths of Soul Society because he decided treason and power were more important than his family? Maybe, you’d like to talk about how every single morning, I wake up and find my world crumbling over and over again because of you. Because. You. Aren’t. There. Is that what you want to ‘catch up’ on?”

Aizen only stares, imperceptibly taken aback by your outburst. He opens his mouth to answer, but you aren’t finished. 

“You are the root of my misery. The bane of my existence.” You hold back the tears well enough, but your voice breaks near the end. “Please, Aizen. Our marriage. My trust. My heart. What else is left for you to break?”

The seals imposed on him make reading his reaction and body language difficult, but the tense pause before he answers is palpable in the freezing air. “You must understand. I do not regret many things, _____, but I do regret hurting you.”

A shake of your head is all you can muster through the simmering anger and cutting grief you find yourself drowning in. “I don’t have many regrets either, but do you know the one thing I wish I could take back more than anything?”

A rhetorical question—you’re both aware—but he answers nonetheless; he humours you. “What is it, my love?”

My love. That damned endearment, laced with affection and poison. “You. I regret ever meeting you.”

A beat of silence passes before Aizen softly murmurs: “I am sorry... if it means anything.” Whether he’s genuine or not, you don’t know, and frankly, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“It doesn’t. Not from you,” you sigh. Fatigue washes over you in numb waves. The urge to leave is overwhelming, so you square your shoulders and turn on your heel again. This time, he doesn’t try to stop you from going.

The war against the Sternritter was not without losses, and the effects of its devastation still echo over Seireitei even months later. Graves filled the desolate land—the final resting places for the fallen, many of whom you had known and cared for. Learning of your comrades’ deaths was a thousand fatal blows to the chest, but nothing could compare to the debilitating dread that sunk its claws into your bleeding heart when you saw Aizen hurt. In that horrible, paralyzing moment, only one thought ran through your mind:

He can’t die. He can’t die. He can’t die.

Like a broken record, that desperate mantra was the only thing you understood, and Aizen the only thing you knew. It took every fiber, every nerve, every optic in your body to restrain yourself from running over and shielding him from further harm. To protect him like he always used to protect you, like how you both vowed to on the day of your union. That moment shattered every doubt in your mind about where you stood with Aizen, and it is also the reason you don’t draw your sword at the sight of him in your home once more.

“Shunsui thought those restrictions could contain you,” you pause. He stands at your doorway, leaning against the frame and listening patiently as you continue. “I told him it wouldn’t be enough.”

A small smile graces his features—the special kind that only appears in your presence. “You do know me best, after all.”

“I thought that once. Until I found out I don’t really know you at all… don’t know who you are anymore,” you murmur.

Aizen steps closer and you find yourself doing the same. No more running, no more hiding. “Then let me remind you. I am your husband, _____. I am the man who will crawl to the ends of the earth and back if you ask it of me. I am the man who needs you more than I need to draw breath,” he whispers, voice so soft, you’re only able to make out what he’s saying because of how close he is.  

“Aizen, please…” You gently press against his chest, desperate to gain distance, but he doesn’t budge and envelopes your fingers with his hand. His skin is warm against yours—too warm…  and way too intoxicating.

“No. I won’t let you push me away again. I need you to listen–”

“I’ve been listening! I’ve been listening to the lies you’ve been spewing for the entirety of our relationship,” you exclaim, exasperated. You pull your hand free from his and it's not even a second later that you miss the contact.

Aizen’s gaze drops down to his empty hand for a split second before coming up to level yours. There’s a glimmer of something in his eyes that you can’t quite decipher. “I hid things from you, yes. But I never lied about our relationship. I pursued you because I desired you, and I married you because the rest of my life is you.”

You cannot breathe. The air around you is charged with something even more powerful than electricity and its drawing goosebumps along your arms and chills down your spine. Aizen continues, and…

Oh dear god, you can’t breathe.

  “If someone were to open up my soul, searching for fingerprints, they would only find yours. I love you. I have loved you for the better part of my life and I will love you even if you took a knife to my heart right now,” Aizen announces, the words escaping out his mouth in a passionate flurry.

He is so, so close. Close enough to touch, close enough to kiss…

You lift your gaze until his eyes meet yours. Something passes between you, and you throw every inhibition out the door.

“Please, _____. Say some—”

And then there was nothing. No sounds. No space. No hate. No love. Nothing between you except unspoken words and fractured memories.

Aizen’s lips move hungrily against yours, and you meet him with equal fervor. His hands are entangled in your hair and gently, but firmly, grasping the back of your neck, hot and searing on your skin. You reach out and grasp the sides of his face, tracing the contours of his jaw as you pull him even closer. The kiss is laden with the roughness and desperation of a dying love. Neither of you is willing to let it end, but you pull back anyway, mind swimming with a million jumbled emotions.

“Aizen—”

His eyelids droop and he steals another kiss while drunk off your presence. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“What?” You try not to get distracted by the slew of affection he’s showering you with, but it's immensely difficult.

“Aizen,” he sulks.

Is he pouting?

You almost let out a laugh. “Have all those years of lying muddled your brain? It’s your name, what else would I be calling you?”

“You used to call me Sosuke. Or husband.”

“I used to call you many things that are hardly appropriate now given the nature of our relationship,” you note.

Sosuke pulls a face, clearly displeased by your answer. “After what we just did, I think it is extremely appropriate.”

You fidget as anxiety starts its treacherous climb up the back of your throat. “Yeah, about that… this doesn’t mean everything is magically okay. It’s far from it, actually.”

You jump a little when you feel his head drop down to your shoulder, breath ghosting over the lines of your collarbone. “I know, but we can make it work. Always.”

“You’re just going to abandon your plans? Give up on taking over the world?” The disbelief in your tone must be obvious because Aizen straightens up and his usual serious demeanor slips back into place.

“I have decided to shift my priorities,” he assures.

“I still can’t trust you.” Your heart squeezes at the sight of Aizen flinching—just slightly, but the hurt is there.

“That is… alright. For now. I swear I will do everything in my power to gain it back—to show you that your trust in me will not be misplaced,” he promises.

  You swallow, unsure of where to go from here until Aizen steps back and pulls something out from underneath the folds of his clothes. The moonlight glints off of your ring, glimmering in the night. Your heart flips at the sight, you’ve missed it dearly.

“I want you to take this back,” he begins.

“I don’t think that is smart idea, I d—”

Your husband gently interrupts you: “Wait. I want you to keep this until I can regain your trust. If I can’t do it, then you are free to throw it into the nearest sea. If I can…” His lips curve into a beautiful smile. “Then I am never letting you take this off for the rest of our lives.”

Five seconds pass. Or twenty, you aren’t sure. The only perceivable thing to you right now is not time, but the thundering beats of your pulse as you make your decision.

You swear Aizen sighs in relief when you finally take the ring from his hand. To his displeasure, you slip it into your pocket instead of on your finger, but he doesn’t voice his disappointment.

“Okay. A second chance; that is all I can give you.”

Aizen wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his body. You let him, his scent swirls around you, making you lightheaded. “I love you,” he whispers.

You can’t bring yourself to say it back—not yet, but he doesn’t push you to. For that, you are grateful. Nothing about this situation is rational, but love, in its truest form, does not exist within rationale. It exists within sense, within feeling, within the soul. It is rooted in what you cannot measure… in what you yearn for in your highest fantasies… and you? You will always and forever be what Aizen yearns for.

+ aizen x reader 

+ ch. one of my two part aizen fic inspired by ‘moth to a flame’ by the weeknd!

+ UPDATE !!!! ch 2 (the sequel) is right: here

summary: aizen’s betrayal may have shaken the foundations of soul society, but it completely shattered your marriage. you try to move on, with both heart and mind, but the effects of your husband’s presence still linger in every aspect of your life. aizen’s hold on your heart will never truly fade, and the worst part is... you’re not sure you want it to. 

It was the week before your upcoming wedding anniversary when you received the news that Sosuke Aizen was found murdered and displayed for the whole of Seireitei to see. 

The gut-wrenching pain you felt then at your husband’s loss only increases tenfold as you find him alive and healthy in the midst of betraying Soul Society. 

“Sosuke,” you whisper. 

The captain—former captain—gazes back at you, not a speck of emotion found within his eyes. He looks different, not just in his new hairstyle or lack of glasses, but in the way he carries himself. He scrutinizes the shinigami the same way a king would his slaves—ants under his feet, living only to be crushed. The worst part is he spares you no exception. The man you have been with for centuries regards you with only disinterest. 

He stands so far up in the sky… so far out of your reach. 

“Y/N, Stay back!” You barely register Byakuya’s voice nor his arm around your stomach as you pull ahead, desperate for answers. You struggle against Byakuya’s hold, eyes brimming with tears as your husband turns his back to you and disappears without a parting glance. 

I am dying, you think. It is the only explanation for what you feel at this moment. Byakuya’s grip tightens as you surge forward again. You have to get to him—to your husband. 

“Sosuke!” You’re screaming now. Screaming his name… pleading for him to come back, but it all falls on deaf ears. You collapse from exhaustion into Byakuya’s arms, throat raw and aching from your cries. The last thing you see before the world turns black is the glint of your wedding ring against the unforgiving sun.

The first thing you see as you blink back into existence is an unfamiliar ceiling. As you slowly rise and get your bearings, it becomes increasingly clear that you are not in your own bed. Unohana’s presence is the final piece of the puzzle of where you are; a private room in the medical ward.

“Retsu… that wasn’t a dream, was it?” You hold your breath, even if you already know the answer. 

“I’m afraid not,” she says. Your heart sinks with those three words, disappointment and grief gutting you anew. Sometimes it is more painful to mourn the loss of someone who is still alive rather than dead. 

Unohana continues: “Byakuya brought you back. The shock must have been difficult and quite fatiguing,” she pauses as she adjusts the IV strapped to your arm. “You’ve been asleep for over twenty-four hours.”

You bolt upright, only to immediately regret that decision as a sharp pang runs through your head without a destination. An oncoming headache. Just what you need. 

“Twenty-four hours?! I need to get back. I–I have to—”

Unohana interrupts you with a placating hand on the shoulder. “The only thing you need to do right now is rest.”

She’s right, but the anxiety crawling up your spine thinks otherwise. You need answers, and the only way to get them is to get the hell out of here. You need to get back home—the one you once shared with your husband. 

Husband…

The word is almost foreign to you now. 

“I’m fine, Retsu. I can rest at home,” you insist. 

Unohana spares you a knowing look but relents anyway. To try and convince you otherwise would be like conversing with a brick and expecting it to reply. Utterly useless. 

After a couple of hours, you are promptly released from Unohana’s care and sent home, where you now stand. Alone. The emptiness of the space is alien to you, and the warmth that usually encompasses it is completely gone. 

Night has fallen and encases Seireitei in a dark haze. The moon shines bright above the wispy clouds, almost in the same place where Sosuke disappeared. Its glow spills across the furniture, coating it in an otherworldly sheen. The four-poster bed you shared with Sosuke stands in the center of it all, cold and empty. Despite your reservations, your exhaustion takes hold of you, and you lower yourself onto the mattress and sit with your back against the headboard.

The last few days’ events finally take their toll on you again, and you are overwhelmed with a mixture of grief, shock, and anger. Anger. Anger at Sosuke leaving you, but mostly anger at being manipulated and thrown away by the person you trusted most in the world. The dam breaks, and before you know it, tears stream down your cheeks as you struggle to hold in your sobs. You are so lost in misery that you almost don’t notice the shift in the air. Almost. 

Someone is here. 

In a split second, you’re upright and alert. The Zanpakuto hiding beneath your clothes is grasped firmly in your hand. The room is silent, eerily so. You scan the space for any movement or indication of another presence. The air around you is thin, but a different frequency lingers… an all-too-familiar one. 

“Did you miss me, my love?”

Sosuke steps into view, and the sight almost brings you to your knees. Your husband stands before you, safe and sound, smiling like he always used to. A smile you used to think was full of love and care. How wrong you were. 

“Tell me—no tricks or sly words—the truth. Tell me they’re wrong. Tell me you didn’t do… all of it. Tell me this is some fucked-up nightmare and that we’re still happy, together and in love. Tell me!” Panic seizes your throat on the last note, your words getting louder and louder with each breath.

He draws closer. Your fingers tighten around the handle of your blade. Your husband notices this and stops, folding his hands behind his back, much like he would back when you had started dating. 

“We are still happy, together, and in love,” he soothes. It would be mocking if it was anybody else. 

But even now, you cannot trust his words. That realization opens up a line of sorrow and soft acceptance in your heart. This man in front of you is nothing but a stranger and an enemy. You finally see it now, and it breaks your heart once more. 

A single tear rolls down your face as you place your Zanpakuto down to remove the ring from your finger. The glittering diamond shines even in the dark. You hold it out to him and wait. Aizen’s eyes flit to it and then back to you. He takes a step back, the refusal clear. 

“Take it, Aizen. As a final courtesy,” you swallow, not daring to look into his eyes. “I’ll be throwing it away otherwise.”

After a moment of deliberation, his hands wrap around yours, warm and comforting. The sensation is so painfully intimate that it almost burns. You feel him take the ring from your hand, but his touch doesn’t disappear. 

“I know you are trying to manipulate me. It will not work,” you warn. Your voice is steady, a stark contrast to the unease in your chest. He is playing you and has been doing so for centuries. It is beyond irritating that you almost fall prey to it again. You want to melt into his arms and bury yourself in his chest, just like you always do after a long day out. Unfortunately, this is not just a simple long day out. 

“Manipulate is such a strong term,” he muses.

“It is the correct one. What would you call everything you’ve done up to now?”

Aizen gently tilts his head, and lets go of your hand. “Necessary. Everything was necessary,” he takes a small step back, and a flit of turmoil flashes across his expression. “Even the painful parts.”

“Painful? For you?” You laugh, though it’s void of humour, “Quite hard to believe.”

His hand comes up to touch your cheek but stops short at the resentment in your eyes. “You are the only thing that could ever hurt me.”

“My god, Aizen. Enough!” Grief turns to red-hot rage as he continues with sickeningly sweet words—cunning phrases that work to tear down your guard. You refuse to fall for it, no matter how sincere he looks. No matter how badly his presence is a comfort. “You can quit acting. It wasn’t real for you, I know that. But at least I can find solace in knowing everything on my part was real. That I wasn’t so desperate as to fake happiness in my life.”

“Fake? You fail to understand, Y/N. Yes, I lied to you—” Your chest tightens at the blatant admission. “But my feelings for you… our relationship was and is as real to me as it is to you.” 

“Then why do this? Why hurt me?” Your voice cracks. 

“An unfortunate but inevitable consequence. My goals are bigger than us. Bigger than Soul Society,” he claims. 

“That’s the difference between you and me, Aizen. You choose power over me, while I would have chosen you above all else,” you swallow. 

His brows furrow as confusion splits his features. “I can have both. You are important to me as well.”

You can only shake your head and sigh. The fight has all but disappeared from within you. “No. You can’t. You’ve made your choice, and I have no place in it.”

“Y/N–”

“No,” you snap. “You need to leave. The next time we see each other will be on opposite sides, so consider this a last show of respect for our previous marriage.”

Aizen narrows his eyes so imperceptibly any other person would have missed it, but you’ve been with this man for the better part of your life. “We are still married.”

“From this moment on, you and I are nothing but enemies,” you declare. 

yes bb of courseee

//Do I? I wish I did.  I went looking for some Aizen + Tousen friendship fics the other day and accidentally came across some Aizen/Tousen hot smut, but I don’t know if that that’s at ALL what you’re looking for. It wasn’t what I wanted initially, but I ended up… erm, enjoying it.

//I think finding a “good” Aizen fic depends a lot on your take on Aizen… and who you think he should be shipped with, if anyone. Part of my personal problem with finding Aizen fics that I like is that I tend to want plot and thought-pieces (as opposed to smut) with Aizen.  (You can probably tell that by the why I write him here.) As far as I know, there aren’t a lot of Aizen fic writers doing that with him. I mean, I am, but I’m not going to recommend my own work… here, anyway.