Title: You're Mine
Rated: T

Explanation: Same as my other ZaTr stories.

Prologue told by Tak (second person)
Story in Third Person


That girl your with, what's her name? Tara? Kara? . . . Sara? I don't care. Whoever she is, she needs to back off. I don't like her leaning all over you like that. She's pretending as if you two were a couple. It disgusts me. You don't belong to her. How dare she try to take you from me. You're mine, ZIM. Always remember that. Mine!


Tak kept a wary glare on the girl currently hugging her boyfriend. It wasn't just that girl, Sara, she had to keep an eye on, however. It was pretty much the whole female cast of Invader ZIM. They all seemed to have a crush on her boyfriend. It was obvious they did. They were always by him, talking to him, touching him, laughing at everything he said. Even if all he said was, 'I'm hungry'. It made Tak angry. All this attention toward her boyfriend.

"I really need to go now, sheilas." ZIM told his 'coworkers'. That's what he called those girls. Tak knew better than that. They weren't his coworkers. They were his fangirls! How could ZIM not see that? They constantly fawned over him like he was some sort of cute puppy.

Tak hated those girls with every fiber if her being. Her eyes zeroed in on a particularly curious hand that belonged to that Sara girl again. She was dragging her palm down ZIM's back, getting closer and closer to a part of his body where only Tak could touch. The female Irken crossed her arms over her chest, not blinking. If she blinked she could miss something. She couldn't afford to miss anything. Especially when his fangirls were all over him.

'You're touching his shoulder. You do realize that's mine, right?' Tak thought to herself, as if she were talking to the girls. 'Your eyes are wandering his body. Well guess what? His body is mine too. You placed your finger on his stomach. Mine! Your hand is fondling his chest. Also mine! You're leaning in to smell the cologne on his neck. See that hicky on his neck? That's from me claiming him as mine! You ran a palm down his arm. That's mine! You just pinched his butt- . . . Oh Hell no! That is mine, mine, mine, Mine!'

Tak had enough. She stomped toward the scene. ZIM saw her coming, her angry facial features very apparent. Tak got up in Sara's face, pushing the girl just hard enough to get her to back off.

"Excuse me," Tak hissed. "But this is mine." She motioned to ZIM. Tak grabbed her boyfriend's wrist and dragged him away from the dense crowd of girls.

"Tak, what are you doing?" ZIM asked, shocked that he was pulled away so rudely. Tak led him out of the soundstage to the outside. As soon as they exited to the parking lot the sun immediately started beating down on them.

ZIM knew Tak was cross about something. And when she was tick he knew better than to question her further when she didn't answer him.

"ZIM," Zita called after him. A few of her friends followed them out. "Where are you going?" The girls trotted to the Irken couple. Tak growled.

Do they just not get it?

Tak pushed ZIM behind her to block him from view of the girls. She stood protectively in front of her little boyfriend, staring down the slightly shorter girls. The 'coworkers' seemed to stand down under the intimidating glower.

Satisfied with the reaction, Tak turned back to ZIM and continued on their way to the main office of the studio. ZIM swallowed a nervous knot in his throat and spoke up at long last.

"What's up with you?" He asked. Tak's eyes shifted to ZIM, looking down at him. ZIM met her glance and quickly adverted his eyes, cowering suddenly. He felt her hand under his chin and lift his face up to meet her's again.

"Why do you let them touch you like that?" Tak asked, a serious tone covered her voice. ZIM's eyes looked away but could not turn his head. She was still cupping his chin. "Look at me." ZIM did.

"I let them because I like to be reassured."

"Reassured of what?" Tak raised a hairless brow. ZIM went silent and remained silent for a few moments.

". . . Reassured that I'm yours."


That's a good answer, sweetie. A good answer, indeed. You better always remember that you belong to me too, because if you forget I'm going to have to remind you of who owns your ass. Me. And only me.

But really, you forgetting is the least of my worries. It's those damn girls you seem to be surrounded by at all times. I leave marks; hickies, scratches, bruises, bite marks, on your visible skin so they know. So they know that you are mine.