I issue a challenge to Bleach fans everywhere! (Because I don't notice this much) ENJOY CRACK PAIRINGS. And I mean cracky crack pairings.
Seriously, it's amazing. Join the fun! I was a non-believer before.
(())
Subjugation wasn't a requirement of Captain Aizen's. Aizen Sousuke, however, demanded nothing less. There was no ecstasy to compare with the blind willingness of people under his indirectly molding palm. It was an interesting thing, seeing these people smile and greet Aizen while he watched and waited behind a curtain, calculating, collecting, cunning. The view entertained him, vaguely. Because of who he was no fact otherwise stated anyone wouldn't shape themselves to his wishes if he so chose. Players in his game were rewarded for open acceptance into his ranks as pieces of his side of the board. They would not perish in his new era for one, and serve a god.
His complex knew no limits.
However few he directly controlled, each had a part to play. And complete submission vitally infected the reasonability in which Aizen accepted his tokens, determined their closeness and contact, and disclosed aspects of matters in his plans. In retrospect he scarcely had the proper positions readied, but Aizen Sousuke was a patient man. And if all else failed he had no problem setting the stage alone. But that didn't become necessary.
Tousen at first was nothing but a problem. Aizen avoided him completely, letting all he knew about Aizen be lies through the regular hearsay. A man without sight could not fall for any illusion, and would seize the falsehood immediately. It would have been better for Tousen in the long run to join Aizen's side instead of being a thorn in it. With careful planning and observation Tousen's malleability revealed itself through the unexpected passing of a dear friend. The simple man who wanted to become a shinigami morphed into, as Aizen predicted, a bitter ghost with a message of injustice to preach. Tousen's services, thereafter, simply came to be.
The young Hinamori, when her time arrived, at first glance, fell into Aizen's plot with such grace that stroked his ever-excelling ego, and as so again when she became a key against the genius inquisitive mind Hitsugaya Toushirou, who was then diverted with little concern needed thereafter. Hinamori's institutions, however, refused her absolute loyalty in the face of any other man but the gracious, calm, and powerful captain she wanted to esteem. This Aizen deduced, and this he concluded when he saved her and the two others from death. He fascinated her. She strove to have him smile and praise her, like a simpleton dog wagging its tail, starving, and happily blind to the knife hidden behind his back. Hinamori eventually fell quite in love with his mask; and so he would leave it with her, dead, when his time of rebirth finally arrived. Only then could Aizen smile at her with clarity and truth.
Gin was a different page, another story of his own design and pattern. He was a great advantage that Aizen attained first, and prided himself in such an addition. The boy yearned for entertainment of many sorts, a trait that Aizen could relate somewhat to his quest for godhood. While Aizen agreed that much of this waiting and watching was child's play, he could not consent to Gin's constant need of fun. For a time Aizen dismissed the fact seeing as Gin was a child by all means. He would leave for a time on some incomprehensible self-made errand, forgetting his place as Fifth Division third seat, for days, and return with not a by-your-leave and a pleasantly hiding smirk on his face. Gin never heeded boundaries except to smile at them as he walked by. The habit stretched from childhood, through adolescence, clear into adulthood. Tousen nearly hated him for it. Aizen showed a virtual soft spot, and repeatedly disregarded the prospect of outright rebellion from Gin.
He did, however, lift a brow when he discovered that it was a girl who drove Gin from Seireitei on his damn-fool errands.
The boy never expressed interest in girls, save to intimidate or scare them. Otherwise he found them boring, as Aizen unveiled at dinner when Gin was a child. Aizen approved. Ties were the last thing needed to hinder their departure in future years. Therefore he was not entirely pleased to discover Gin toying around with a voluptuous young woman fresh in the Academy: the one Matsumoto Rangiku. Gin's multiple days-long absences, and his single attachment formed before Aizen demonstrated closeness at a distance towards the people who would eventually become vital or witness to his ambitions. Aizen still smiled though he disapproved, never forgetting his captain's face. The young woman was a good student with good grades even if she was rambunctious and a flirt. Gin's intrigue was well-placed, but clearly deeply rooted also.
Judgment, Aizen decided, would not be passed. Not after the public recognized Gin and Rangiku as some unofficial couple, and that Rangiku was finally left alone in fear of Gin's retribution despite the humor Rangiku would find in any other man's attempt at her attentions. Aizen let them play as they would under his attentive eye, contented to merely evaluating various degrees of consequences of this distraction.
For the time being.
(())
Rangiku never saw Ichimaru Gin as a completely domineering or scary man; he just enjoyed games too much. Overly odd and usually hard to follow games. Ones including whoever happened to please his humors at the time that were accurate in untimely setting. He did it on purpose. No one dismissed him as a social ingrate any longer because his habitual mischances never ceased or improved. To put it mildly, Gin irritated the people he didn't outright terrify. Rangiku never comprehended either side of that spectrum—the hateful other people and Gin's enthrallment with making those people hate him. To her his sly mask was a simple mystery, just as anyone else somehow hid aspects of themselves. But she'd had the time to know Gin far better than anyone else dare waste the effort. She had grown up with his indecipherable moods and faces, that constant smile that gained acuteness over the years. Rangiku knew his tones, and that they changed subtly with his mood. She knew his eyes were an interesting combination of blue and aqua; not quite either-or, not quite turquoise. They were just Gin. It was the only possible way to describe the color. She knew the place under his collarbone that made him growl and dazzle her in return with teeth and tongue. She knew so many things no one did. But she didn't know everything.
Matsumoto Rangiku was no fool.
He was a strange version of a "bad boy" to put it lightly as possible, and with to attempt did Gin hide the fact. He was predictable in his inconsistency. And the list pretty much ended right there had the question to her been asked, "How do you stand his company? How do you stand him at all?"
Rangiku lavished in his company, groaned when he all but ravaged her body, and missed him when he disappeared for a while. She welcomed his assaults on her mouth, fixated on his lips as he kissed her wild. Her blood burned when he touched her in the dark. But Rangiku didn't dwell on lingering touches in the daylight, not when he wasn't around to distract her easily distractible self. Lying to herself about the man she'd settled, to a degree, with would be pointless. The beauty of their questionable relationship was its ugly side: neither party expected something greater than the moments revisited and renewed often in the tell-tale quiet of the night when formalities lay dead on the floor alongside forgotten clothing.
In the mornings Gin was sometimes gone, which his actions foretold during the night before. He would, seemingly, glance into her eyes more often while he teased, tasted, and took her.
This was such a morning.
Rangiku rose unsurprised to an empty bed, cooled where his body had been, and she didn't think twice past the initial pang of annoyance and longing. She readied and dressed as usual. She noted the quicker pace in which her morning ran with Gin missing as a factor in her regular lateness. Her lip twisted momentarily while looking in the mirror, turning to the side to gaze at the badge on her arm. Being Standing Captain was a hassle.
With extra time on the clock before her absence from the office would be duly noted Rangiku flopped onto her futon. His scent—musky, woodsy, mostly earthly smells—leapt into the air,
She sighed, rising to escape her room.
If there was a single trait she could rely on, it was Gin's return. He'd never in all their years left her completely alone. Confidence in that tied her heart together again.
"Good morning, Rangiku-san."
Aizen's voice cut cleanly into her routine, and Rangiku was thrown into a short-winded wide-eyed gape. The captain only smiled as if he understood her shock.
"Aizen-taichou," Rangiku greeted with a formal bow, expecting to continue her way unhindered. Instead he addressed her again.
"Excuse me for asking, but I was wondering if you'd seen Ichimaru-taichou this morning?" The man appeared embarrassed for what he implied in the question. Rangiku smiled despite herself, finding it rather endearingly childlike for a man Aizen's age and rank to squirm at the slightest implication of sex.
"No," she answered truthfully, "I haven't seen him this morning."
His tense embarrassment deflated and Aizen seemed more at ease. Rangiku almost wanted to laugh aloud.
"Ah, well, if you happen to see him, please remind him of his hearing. It's not proper for a generally new captain to miss his first meeting."
Rangiku lifted a brow. "Is that what he did? I expected something a little worse than that."
"One would guess," Aizen agreed humorously, nodding to her as he moved past. "Have a good day, Rangiku-san."
She watched the captain's bellowing white haori disappear, and wondered first why he insisted on longer sleeves. Gin, and even Kuchiki Byakuya, adopted a newer style of sleeveless captain's haori. And it happened to be the middle of summer. Wasn't an entire extra layer of clothing unbearably hot?
Secondly, and with a slight lift of her brow, Rangiku wondered why exactly Aizen's guess would happen similar to her own concerning Gin. Sure he bugged the living hell out of most, but he'd never done anything truly outrageously horrible. Not that she wanted to know, at least. She'd slipped her tongue with that comment, but strangely had felt perfectly at ease doing so until Aizen walked away.
Rangiku shrugged. Life was full of too many mysteries to try and solve them all.
(())
I have no excuse for this, honestly. Except that I blame OhGreat. It's her fault, not mine. Now go read her AiRan oneshot! It's slightly more on the humor side than this.