#zetsu x reader

…What is it? It’s a lot of things, contradictory and strange. Long and thin…but bumpy too? It’s like a rod with attachments on the sides and end, papery and almost soft. Curious less so about the result of picking this object and more so about what it could even be, this is the selection you make.

You pull it out and the room is oddly silent.

…

You twirl the stem of the flower between your fingers, looking down at it as you wait for your potential lover. Who is it? Who would be so romantic in their intention as to place the prettiest, most delicate daisy into a bag as their representation of their very soul? Konan…? No, surely she’d make a paper one if it was her. Deidara? No, same but with clay. Itachi? Oh, that’s unexpected, but possible. 

You’ve been so focused on waiting to hear that door open that you never realize that one among you needn’t a door to walk into your private space. Two golden eyes linger over your shoulder, and you eventually gasp in surprise to feel them there, but this is not a reaction of fear but intrigue. 

“Oh! Zetsu!” you greet, friendly and smiling. “I didn’t realize you escorted me here.”

“You really are quite dense,” the lighter voice speaks with moving lips. You hum in confusion. “Why don’t you think about it for a few seconds?”

…

…

Your face goes red. “O-...oh.”

He smiles. He always seems to smile; you can never get a good read on him for that very reason. You stare at his eyes. They’re like egg yolks; vanilla pudding; fireflies in the dark; and the shine animals have on their own eyes when hunting at night.

“You’re always staring at us,” White Zetsu points out, waking you from your daydream. You immediately avert your gaze, but it solves nothing for reasons that Black makes clear:

“No point in looking away now,” he grumbles, a rough voice tumbling like rocks in his throat. “We’ve noticed.”

“We’ve always noticed,” the other half adds.

But still! It’s embarrassing, so you rub the back of your head and chuckle with the residual anxiety you’ve created out of this situation.

“No…”

What was that?”

“I don’t think they’ll ever ask…” White agrees with Black. They’re murmuring, as they sometimes do. The strangeness of the situation makes you blink at him.

“Ask you what…?” you take the bait.

“What else we notice,” Black answers. Now your brow just furrows.

“What…else do you notice…?” your tentative voice lingers deeper into what feels like a trap. 

…! He’s closer. When did he get closer?! All of a sudden his breath is on your face, and you can almost see the little jagged imperfections of the line that splits down the very middle of his visage. Yellow… Golden, gleaming, shining yellow! 

You are in danger.

“We notice why you stare at us.”

You gulp. Deep down, it’s true. You’ve always wondered; who wouldn’t?! Who wouldn’t want to know how a person like him works. The question passed so crudely around the baths, of course, is if he’s split all the way down, but there’s so much MORE to Zetsu! Do they share all their organs? Does one side control just their own color, or are they truly embedded into one another? You’ve always wanted to touch his hair; is it like grass? Moss? You’re never close enough to tell. Now you are.

Now you are.

“Look,” White coos, “Their little mouth is agape.” “Are you really so surprised?” Black nearly scolds, having a knack for making you feel stupid.

And by God, it’s hot. 

Maybe it’s because you’re already horny. Maybe it’s that you came in here expecting at least a kiss if not a good 2nd to 3rd base. You’re desperate, but no…not in the way people would assume. Just because Zetsu is a monster does not mean that you’re stooping low. It’s the opposite. You’re just looking for a bite out of the golden apple. 

“Well?”

And you briefly clench your teeth before deciding this is it. You have one chance to be brave; make it count.

“Take me,” you whimper. 

And after a long, long second of silence, to your surprise, he does.

It’s awkward at first, him imitating what he’s seen the dolls of his long, long life do. You watch his teeth as he leans in, finally close enough to see one half is blunt– almost like they’re made for grinding the bones– while the other half is sharp– perhaps the ones that tear the flesh. Both alike graze your lip before familiarity grows.

“Hah!”

You gasp as both sets of teeth sink in, and you melt so hard and fast he needs to catch you in his arms. “Guess that’s what they like…” light thinks in the same headspace as dark. “We’ll be happy to oblige…” dark answers. “Yes…”

The world has the wrong idea about creatures of the night. The curves aren’t bat wings but the pointed leaves of a plant. The fangs aren’t there to help them drink blood but to chew, and so the act of filling their cup is so very messy. And lastly, most pointedly of all…

…You know that a vampire’s eyes don’t shine red. 

Your noises continue, a call and its echo, a verse and a chorus. Smack, moan, smack, moan. You grip his cloak and it begins to fall undone as it takes your weight. Oh yes…he is split down the middle.

“...Do you want to see more?” White asks, though it’s surely Black that uses their shared tongue to lick behind your ear. 

What else can you do but nod?

Click…click…click. The cloak is undone. You see him the way moths see light, so holy and bright, and you close your eyes as you sink into one another, two people becoming three.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Deeper.

Until you can’t tell what part belongs to who.

“Time’s up!” Hidan calls, grumbling under his breath after something about how grateful you’ll be to have this over with.

…Nothing.

"We should go," his white half whispered to the black half, though they remained glued to their spot, eyes unwavering on you. Your twitching core, your fast hands, your scrunched up face...

"It doesn't matter, we need to check on their wellbeing," black said, "and isn't it you keeping us here?"

White didn't even bicker back, someone had finally gotten him quiet for once as you whined out your pleasure. The mission you were on had nearly gone wrong, and you needed some heavy stress release. When you'd taken a cool bath in a lake you'd decided now that you were naked anyway you could as well take advantage of it. Knowing that you were in a safe distance from the Akatsuki hideout had made you bold. You knew Zetsu watched this area like a hawk, but he wasn't human, so you were sure he wouldn't care much about what you were doing. 

And even if he decided to watch, good for him. You were sure he'd seen people masturbate or fuck before, and you were only human. You had needs, and you needed them taken care of. Now.

A shiver went down your spine while you played with your clit. You were hurrying before, but now you stopped. There was someone watching you, though there was no bloodlust coming from their hiding spot. You were definitely in a vulnerable position but... you slowly started back up, realizing when the one watching you was indeed Zetsu. As if your thinking had brought him into existence. 

Well, you weren't going to let it stop you, but you were slowing down your pace. If Zetsu was here you were well watched over, the potential of any enemies being close was slim, and Zetsu would notify you if there were.

Slowly you widened your legs, making sure he could see every inch of you. If he was going to watch anyway you were going to make the most of it. It was obvious he didn't want to be found, considering he hadn't made himself known, but the thought of someone watching you do something so naughty heightened your arousal immensely. Even if it was just Zetsu.

"Fuckkk," you gasped as you circled your opening with a wet finger, lifting your head to look in the direction of the plant-man. 

"She knows we're here," white Zetsu said, his blood running cold. Why? He didn't know. After all, he wasn't doing anything different from the usual; watching. Moreover, he wasn't human, and he had no genitalia. A strange thrill went through his body none the less when he caught your gaze, a face filled with so much pleasure and desperation. Suddenly his fingers itched to be touching you instead. He wished he had a dick to pleasure you with. He wanted to draw more noises from you, he wanted you to whine his name, though he had no idea where the feelings came from.

"Just stay still," black said, "it's because you're bad at hiding your presence. Now we're stuck watching this... disgusting human act."

"You're not moving away either," white argued back, and both realized the other felt exactly the same as they did. A shameful sort of thrill igniting the blood in their veins. 

"Maybe we could... morph ourselves a bit," white Zetsu said as their hands fisted in their Akatsuki cloak, eager to touch something. "It wouldn't be impossible to grow a dick... would it?"

Black growled. Not liking where white's thoughts went, but unable to admonish him. Because his thought went the exact same way. He, too, wanted to fuck you. A pathetic, useless human being. Someone not even worthy to stand in his presence, let alone touch him. He wanted you for himself. "Just shut up and watch. We'll decide what to do another time. ...but yes, we could."

You were unaware of their inner turmoil, just enjoying yourself immensely. Slowly inserting another finger inside yourself as you pumped it in and out, imagining their fingers in your place, or better - a cock. If they even had that. 

A high noise escaped you at the thought of the dual coloured man fucking you into the ground, though you knew that was a fantasy that would probably never happen. Honestly, you weren't sure if you even wanted that to happen, but at the current moment you couldn't stop your brain from running away with any idea. 

"Yesss-" you gasped as you crawled towards the edge, so close to orgasm you could almost taste it. Once again you looked over to where you thought Zetsu stood, and your eyes met his'. Finally you saw him though the bushes, noting that he must've stepped closer to you to get a better look. The comical way his mouth hung open paired with the way his eyes didn't stray from your core had you tightening around your fingers. Slick squelching as your legs closed around your hands, finally coming harshly as your legs thrashed in the water. 

Zetsu snapped from his reverie when you came and he realized he, too, had moaned with you.

"It's time to go," black said hastily, trying to get a grip. Hoping to get away from the feelings you'd awoken in him. 

"Yes, we wouldn't want to get caught," replied white. 

It’s nice to be like this. It’s everything he ever wanted from her. All to himself, finally, a girl from space underneath him with a soft bosom to rest his cheek upon. White Zetsu didn’t quite know pleasure until she came around, but it took a long time to get a bite of. The woman descended from the stars upon the Akatsuki, and men stronger and bolder than he captured her heart and had their way with her. He had to beg for attention. He had to observe, and wait, and observe, and wait…

Now, everyone she knew is dead. One by one, picked off like flies. Sasori, Hidan, Kakuzu, Deidara, Itachi, Nagato, Konan. Loyal Kisame had to swim away, upstream to accomplish his duties. Tobi...always so busy. Always everywhere. Zetsu is everywhere, too, but in a very different sort of way.

In the way where he gets to be with her...all the time.

A hand washed in moonlight glides over dull green hair, the plant-man humming in approval. Though as pleasant as the sensation is, he can’t help but get restless with it. She feels him inch up, dragging his knees more over her pelvis and pulling himself face to face with the arms wrapped beneath her. “Mmm…” he mumbles louder, feigning the sleepiness that looks so cute when she does it. “May we go again?”

But the performer is silent, her eyes hallowed and sunken. In this old abandoned shack in the middle of no where, she looks up at the rotted boards above and sees the silver orb through its cracks.

“Takara-chan?”

Still staring. He sighs. She’s like this again… It was better at first, you know? When he was the lucky one to receive the assignment of keeping her safe and away from troublesome prying eyes. He gave her sweets. He held her hand. She came to him at night and wrapped herself around like a snake trying to choke out its prey. She was all his.

All...his.

But as gradually as the sun rises, so does it fall. The smiles came less and stretched smaller across her cheeks. The brightness in her eyes...dimmed.

And now the light is gone.

Zetsu’s expression finally shifts, too. It isn’t fun anymore. Even with everyone dead and gone, a million of him can’t fill the space left behind.

…

…

But...maybe he can still try.

“Takara-chan,” he repeats-- a whisper this time, like he’s making a promise. He kind of is. A pause is stagnant in the air as one more time, Zetsu waits for her. Eventually, she drags her eyes to him.

And Zetsu observes, as intently and with love as he always has of her. Any change in emotion, any shift or twitch of the face...any sign that maybe she’s still awake underneath the thick weight of ennui trapping her behind her eyes. Zetsu, for once, is kind for its own sake, even as it pains him to know that things will never be quite as he wants them to be.

Sasori.

Hidan.

Kakuzu.

Deidara.

Itachi.

Nagato.

Konan.

“Who do you want me to be?” he asks.

Sasori.

Hidan.

Kakuzu.

Deidara--

A hand cups a face with beautiful blue eyes and hair golden as ripe wheat. The corners of her lips tremble, as if half of her wants to smile and half her knows she shouldn’t. Zetsu’s new form does it for them both.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Alright, come close

Let me show you everything I know

A jungle slang

Spinnin' round my head and I stare

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That night, the crickets chirp and the frogs croak. The nightingale sings its tune, a whistle that passes across the drafts of wind like notes on a bar of sheet music. The creatures at the foot of the lake swarm their sound around a lonely man. He is lonely, somehow, despite being everywhere and everything.

Zetsu sees his reflection in the water and wonders if the one thing that makes him better than the rest is, perhaps, finally his downfall: he is not human. This won't be his demise— not by any means. Regardless of any affection— however few and far between— that either side have experienced, all humans pass with time. To them, he is a novelty; he is merely something incredible to have known before you died.

Most humans, in turn, are just the same to him.

Why is this different? Why does it hurt? One voice deep and one voice light whisper to one another underneath the cacophony of longing, lustful creatures. They seek companions. Zetsu is never alone; why does he need one?

We don’t, one side tells the other.

But don’t we deserve it, it argues back?

The dark voice groans in reply. They ask for so little…

A head of green hair raises up to the nearly full moon, and he knows. Zetsu knows that the reason no one harvests wood for flutes in this lunar phase is because the instruments need its materials dry. It’s when the moon is as round as an eye that plants become juicy inside. The stems of trees and flowers alike lubricate much like animals do, in a way, as they prepare to breed. Zetsu smells the scent of fresh oxygen and chlorophyll and tries to remind himself that the reason he feels this stirring warmth inside is because of the sky telling him so. You just look at the moon in its orbit for the season of spring and you can know that it is time for most everything green to spread pollen and seed.

He feels no comfort, however, because unlike other plants Zetsu knows love.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

While my naked fool

Fresh out of an icky, gooey womb

A woozy youth

Dopes up on her silky, smooth perfume

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Despite the distractions, the fact it’s been a year still has yet to leave her mind. It’s comical at this point that nothing— nothing— gets her mind off of it.

Of course she doesn’t know the exact anniversary; she hasn’t so much as heard a day of the week since she got here, let alone asked for a calendar. And as far as she’s concerned, that’s a good thing. The unreality of it all, ironically, helps this fantasy feel real.

After all, when she was in the other world was when she kept track of time. Look at how far that got her.

“You don’t have to leave the bed, you know.”

Hidan holds the woman just a bit closer to his chest the second she stirs to sit up. Kakuzu stands at the closed door, his bare back of threads and masks rolling their muscles as he slips his top over his shoulders. The performer watches the way long, dark hair swishes with each movement no matter how minute. Hidan reaches to hold her wrist just about when Kakuzu looks over his shoulder, one finger holding his mask just under his lips. The old man sees her, and even after hours of comfort, something still feels...off.

But she’s always been a little off, hasn’t she?

“Takara…” the treasurer mumbles, turning around to the bed he left. Hidan is spooning her, one eye closed and his mouth frowning as he awoke to her wiggling. The woman in his arms looks...lost. The younger shinobi shifts up to get a better look at the lady, an agitated hum buzzing his tongue. It’s not angry, just disappointed, like a cat being asked to get off your lap. The morning light streams in, and her fingers grip and ungrip the sheet underneath in subtle but building stress.

“Baby,” Hidan asks, index finger under her chin so ask to get her to look up face to face. “What’s wrong, huh...?”

Her wide, tired eyes search Hidan’s face for answers, for a way to explain how she feels. But the longer she stays silent, the more his face twists to worry. The more his face twists to worry, the more guilty she feels. Inevitably, it reaches the point where Hidan demands but she locks her heart away.

“Angel—?”

“Hidan.”

Sitting up, the named man glances up to Kakuzu. He’s fully dressed now, mask and headgarb and all, with a cloak held over his back. Hidan knows that look. It’s the same one he has when they’re on the road and it’s time to pick up camp and go. Fuck that... The reaper grimaces reflexively, the woman so warm by his side, so cozy to hold and practically melting him outside-in. By his side...

Belonging there.

“Kakuzu, forget the mission!” he interjects before the other ninja can justify abandoning her. It is a horrible coincidence that they were already assigned to go, that’s all. Coincidence doesn’t have to be fate. “We can’t just—!”

But they can. It is, perhaps, even what she wants right now. Either way, uncharacteristically soft gemstone eyes look down to the woman, a ringed finger still curled under her chin. Her gaze trails from one zombie to another; Hidan and the performer stare at each other for a long, long second.

…Kakuzu sighs. “Will you be alright?” he asks, voice low as if being too loud could break her heart.

You can tell she’s searching inside herself. Her wide stare travels from Kakuzu to the scarred arms around her body, so possessive and nearly longing, as if Hidan can and will protect her from whatever invisible force wants them apart.

Hidan should know, of course, that the strongest force keeping them apart at this point is inside her.

The sleepy woman hums, eyes hooding as she finally decides. Hidan feels hope blossom in his chest as she takes the hand from her jaw and kisses it.

“I’ll be okay.”

And hope feels choked out by the weeds.

But Hidan is resigned to her independence. He sighs, and he combs her hair back as he places his lips on hers. When he pulls back, she still looks so...strange. Shouldn’t it all be fine? What the hell is up now...?!

But...if she says she can take care of herself, he’s gotta leave it to her and Jashin. That's what he's been trying to teach her to do, after all.

“We’ll be back before you know it… Okay?” The last word is tinged with subtle desperation. She nods, and Kakuzu watches his two unlikely lovers bump foreheads together, a soft smile for each. “Be good, angel.”

She responds softly, and it’s both a joke and an omen.

“No promises.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Right, my little Pooh Bear, wanna take a chance?

Wanna sip the smooth air, kick it in the sand?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When she was little, she used to say spring was her favorite season. What changed since then?

The woman sits with her back against the tree with a sigh, looking over her garden from beside her swing. It’s so vast...so lush... She hasn’t done a damn thing to earn all this. The roses were already here. They already grew, already lived and already died, year by year by year until she came. People call this place hers, but why? Her eyes hood as they try to take in the expanse, and it feels more like she belongs to it.

There were days, when she was little, that in the same way she waited to be frozen in snow, she too had waited for the flowers to rise and make her one of them.

...

She closes her eyes, contemplating this world with more concentration. Everything is so...young. The grass is short. The leaves are small. The roses have yet to bloom beyond the confines of their beds. Everything is waiting to begin…

So what about her?

So much has happened… She met the Akatsuki, and they changed one another forever. And yet something feels...stagnant. Frustrated, yet resistant to change. And it isn’t them.

It’s her.

...

The woman’s eyes open, and a strange thing happens. The performer notices Zetsu before he notices her.

This is perhaps the first time that she has seen the profile of his face— that is, unmoving, and not in the process of turning towards her or away. The difference strikes her. He never looks lost— distant maybe, but not lost— and yet that’s how he seems now. This far away, his eye looks like an egg, a mute yellow overtop glossy white. The lips she can see frown ever so slightly, and his brow curls.

She’s looking at us.

The lighter voice gasps aloud to this intermission, fluttering its eye. Hers do the same in surprise as a man still as a statue acknowledges her. And then...another expression appears that she’s not accustomed to on him:

Worry.

Against her better judgment, the novelty of this makes her wave him over just when he begins to turn to walk away. It’s a bit of an awkward arrangement. He walks up, up, up, until his feet are beside her. He looms, though to be fair there’s no other way for the guy to stand but loom with a structure like his upon his shoulders. The shade it provides cools her skin.

Zetsu looks at the otherworldly being, so demure and unlikely to be in company like his. Her knees curl into each other, one hand palm-down in the grass and the other on her lap, fidgeting. He observes the way she stims in this position. Fingertip brushes its soft print onto the inside of her hand. Brush...brush...brush…

Gaze trails up her arm’s woven blue sleeve, lingers at her neck, and then falls onto a pondering face. Head tilts, her hair drifting in doing so, and it reminds him a little bit of how a weeping willow looks on the top of a hill.

...

...

The strangeness of them both is quietly accepted, and Zetsu finally sits next to her, black side the only side visible. It’s perhaps impossible to tell where that yellow circle is looking, but she cranes her head some more in an attempt to find out.

“Hi,” she says simply. It's quickly apparently that this is quite different from how they’ve interacted before. Usually the plant-man just shows up and they do their weird dance— either metaphorical or literal, at times— and she gets a weird sort of non-resolution to their increasingly complex relationship. Perhaps she realizes unconsciously that for once, this is her forte; ghosts are after all more at ease with discomfort than most other creatures. She patiently waits to see if Zetsu will either speak back or prefer the silence.

“...Hi.” It is, interestingly, the black voice that responds, though it is the white one seems to be nearly assigned with the task of pleasantries of conversation. Almost as if reading her thoughts, said lighter side then hums his hello too. She smiles.

“It’s good to see you.” And it isn’t a lie, somehow, in spite of all of the tension. Heaven knows what a person like him has to worry about, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible for him to be sad. If he could want a kiss, after all, surely he can feel other things too. Even though she has problems of her own, sometimes when someone else is so clearly bothered, it makes things easier— it gives you purpose. “Are you...doing okay?”

“Yes. No.”

Oh, this again.

A breath in and a breath out rolls her shoulders as she looks over the amalgamate. He really does have pitch black skin; you can tell from the way it looks even under dappled sunlight through the branches. Her eyes flutter aside before returning to him. Even if she wavers, she wants to offer kindness. “Can I help?”

...

They both want to answer differently again, but it comes with much more hesitation. She can, theoretically, “help”, but he nearly wanted to devour her from just a kiss; who knows what further contact would do? What’s more...would she even want it?

“...No,” is what one ultimately speaks for them both.

And so the quiet is a bit less comfortable, though the woman has no one to blame but herself.

...

...

“I envy you.”

Out of the blue, the pale lips speak. She gasps, turning her head to look at him. The black side is still all she can see, words created without the dark face moving.

“You get everything you could ever want…” he murmurs, saccharine and bitter, “...And all you have to be is yourself.”

Her brow curls, and she’s awash with worry. It does get to be a pretty good life she has, doesn’t it? Just trade off a menagerie of threats and she could emotionally— perhaps even physically— receive whatever her little heart desires. That’s true, and yet...why is everything still so hard? Unsure how else to justify her angst, she chooses to interpret the thorns in her chest as guilt. “I...I’m sorry, Zetsu.”

...

Silence follows...that is, nearly. In the following moment otherwise filled with nothing but hollow tension, he murmurs to himself, and she catches a few exchanges:

“It isn’t her fault. We don’t need to be so dismissive.”

“What other choice do we have?”

“But what if there is something...?”

...

...

Her eyes flicker down to her shoes, and she decides to brave another attempt. “...Are you sure I can’t help?”

“You can’t change the seasons.”

She blinks, blinks, and turns her chin up. All of a sudden her attention easily sways from Zetsu himself to...well...the rest of him. The spikes around his head...they look...bumpier. Is it because of springtime…? “I-I thought…”

...No response from him, and he’s almost sharp in doing so. She loses her tongue in speaking about how plants usually like this time of year. As much as he isn't entirely human, Zetsu also isn't just a plant. Her cheeks dust pinker with the rudeness of assuming he's like a mere potted petunia.

Listening to the birds tweet in the branches around, the fly trap peeking from his coat is reevaluated by the woman. No...it wasn’t always that texture. It almost looks more...round. Like it’s filled with more moisture. It never occurred to her...maybe he can feel it, the thing that raises so tall over his head? Maybe it’s uncomfortable…?

“...You wish it wasn’t spring?” she pieces together. An obvious question gets an obvious answer:

“Yeah.”

...A second of pity in her tilted gaze suddenly becomes one of invention. “What about the garden?” the woman offers.

A deep groan is followed with an airy rebuttal. “What about the garden?”

“Not this one..." she explains, dismissing where they sit now. "You know...the one you showed me?” A pause as she allows the gears to turn in his brain— er, brains(?) “...When we were there, it was already the end of winter. Maybe if you go there, you’ll feel better? It seems to be in a somewhat different latitude. So it should be better than this, right?”

The animals around twitter a bit as it’s Zetsu’s turn to tilt his head in thought. “...You’re smarter than you let on,” White Zetsu teases eventually. In turn, the performer gives the slightest sigh of relief, happy that at least one of the two of them can reconcile with the problem of this time of year.

“No,” she answers with a shrug, not at all out of humility but rather in acceptance. “Just trying to help.”

“Help…” White repeats, almost like he has a better understanding of the word now. But as he stands up to leave, there’s a tug on the end of his cloak.

“Zetsu?” The woman pauses once again, only continuing once he peers down. “Can you take me with you?”

“Hmm?” the whole eye blinks, curious. “Why should I, ghost?”

And the kind of look she gives him is one he’s seen before. Through the window...across the fields...in the walls. But never, ever, before to him directly. The way she turns up the corners of her lips put a pit in his stomach.“You aren’t the only one that doesn’t want it to be spring.”

He swallows.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I'd say I told you so, but you just gonna cry

You just wanna know those peanut butter vibes

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The girl is taking a risk and she knows it. Him and her, all alone, who the hell knows how far away… Far enough that it changes the time of year! But she remembers something he said, and it eats at her:

She was supposed to love everyone.

...And so everyone included him, too. Despite her better judgment, who is she if she can’t give a second chance? She didn’t deserve one, and look at her now. It changed her whole...well...everything. Monsters are people, too, right? So doesn’t he deserve kindness and company?

So they travel together as he magically weaves through the crust of the earth, the woman squeezing her eyes shut and failing to ignore the strange blend of hot and cold that comes with being held within him— not even in his arms, maybe, besides the exit and entrance into the earth. She’s just...surrounded by a hold. It travels through her and she travels through it. Eventually, the air feels fresh and stagnant, and she opens her eyes with expectations of thick, lush green. This place in winter was already budding in spring. So now, it’s got to be towards summer, right?

Wrong.

It’s perfect, mid bloom. The flowers are everywhere. The scent of pollen is heavy. You can’t turn your head without seeing the head of a daisy. It’s not at the end of spring. It’s right in the thick. If Zetsu has a heart, it stops beating.

Oh no.

Don’t—

Oh NO—!

The amalgamate is so overwhelmed that within seconds of arriving, his white side considers splitting off and running away. Black has to restrain the other half, so visibly tense that the woman can see the way his body trembles like it’s being tugged at an invisible seam where the two shades touch.

“Ze-Zetsu!?”

She runs up and grips his shoulders, and the lighter voice winces. Shit...! Realizing that's not a good touch for whatever reason, she instead holds his hands, afraid of whatever is afflicting him; the left palm shakes, and the right side is stiff as stone. White Zetsu nearly looks like he's in pain.

...It isn’t pain he’s feeling, though. It’s another sort of physical sensation. The kind that makes you do things. The kind that gets unmanageable if left alone for too long. The sweeter voice continues its whine of discomfort, eventually closing shut. The woman’s eyes quiver over him as she realizes those bumps on his leaves are growing.

With a gasp, panic pulses her veins as the woman realizes these things might explode, and they kind of do. Just...not in a way she expects.

Before her eyes, out of the aloe-like flesh, unfold layers of green, first dark...then lighter...then more yellow. Thicker...thinner...then softer. Those aren’t wounds on him— not boils nor pimples nor any other dermatological affliction. It is merely what plants do when it is time to pollinate.

Only the side that never closes its eye gets to see the expression on her face change. It is, again, a miracle he has never had for himself, always given to someone else:

Awe.

“Zetsu…” she whispers, her hands still intertwining her fingers between his. They’re so soft… Most skin he’s touched is always so rough, given his interactions usually start and end with consumption of massacred warriors. An unspoken command rings to give the other side’s eye bravery to open, and the look Zetsu gives to the human is nearly...innocent.

He’s never been admired before.

Though the lady is still concerned, the wonder of the situation is the driving force of her actions. That starry gaze twinkles, and her head tilts up as if it'll let her take in more of the miracle that is Zetsu at the peak of spring. “You...flower,” she realizes aloud with a whisper. Self-evident as a fact, Zetsu can only agree.

“...Yeah,” the dark voice says. She does not know it’s because this is the one that handles the most grim of matters. Gradually, hands let go and begin...to reach...up. There’s one blossom that’s close to her face, level with her chin. Fingers uncurl to touch—

And they do, at the same time he touches her. The woman gasps as a black, clawed hand grips around her wrist.

“I’m...sensitive,” White explains, evaluating the way her hand still seems so poised in curiosity, ready to investigate that which she absolutely should not. The woman blinks, again misunderstanding his worry as directed towards himself alone, rather than about how he might behave if she gets too close, too touchy... A dangerous prospect, indeed.

“Oh...is...that the problem?” the naive mortal so insistently prods. Because certainly she of all people know what it’s like to be too sensitive— for the sun to be too bright, to not want to be touched because you’re overwhelmed. A tension unknown to her rises, causing her hand to be let go, and it comes to her chest. He can't help but stare. Her bosom...thick with fatty breasts, meaty ribs, and a bleeding heart. His mouth waters, and he snaps out of it with a brief but intense squeeze of his lids shut.

“...I can’t ask you for help,” he continues breathlessly. The split man knows look upon her face. He’s seen it before; she always wants to fix people, even if it’s for naught. “That would be wrong.”

Wrong...? Why? Her gaze flickers down in thought, unaware he too has opened his eye again to stare at the way she fidgets fingers at her chest. “Then…” the woman suggests, ignorant, “...Maybe you can help yourself?”

...One more awkward pause fills the air thanks to two and a half spirits. In the quiet, waiting, the performer finally notes the way this place smells so...sweet. Almost fruity. Part of her wishes to explore— find out what, precisely, out of all the plants causes that juicy tinge upon her breath— but she has a duty towards her...dare she say...friend.

It really is hard not to enjoy the way he looks at her right now. He seems surprised, like she put an idea in his head that’s never occurred before.

“Help...myself?” the lighter side asks, as if he could have misheard. Feeling confidence in the one thing she knows— emotions— causes the woman to more than happily take the reigns and guide him to stability. It pains her, even if he’s been cruel or rude before, to see him so troubled. But he’s hardly human, this makes her remember. He has difficulties she can’t even imagine, literally bursting out of his body. And, ironically, this humanizes him even more.

“Yeah,” she answers, patient and kind. “Sometimes when things are hard, people forget that the best person to help them is themselves. If— if it really is the case that I can’t do anything, is there anything that you can do for yourself? Like if you were second person?”

A silly stranger hardly a year old in this world forgets so easily.

“Help...myself,” the dark side says now.

“Yeah.”

They repeat the conversation in this brevity. She evaluates him, the changing expression on half of his face as he begins to seem...thoughtful. The pale skin eases the tension in its brow and offers her a small, nearly thankful smile. It’s just about when she grins wider back that he once again begins to change.

And this time, it’s much more alarming a sight than just a few flower petals.

Starting at the collarbone, Zetsu’s body begins to split apart. It begins, at first, with just a tug— just an uncanny shifting of flesh almost like pressing fingertips into clay to reshape it— but the more it pulls, the clearer it is that it’s like a hole is being dug right at his heart. That becomes literal within a few seconds, the woman’s mouth as wide as the opening inside his chest that lets her see the flourishing garden that sets his backdrop. Wisteria, buttercups, and wild lilies are clear as day straight through where his spine once was.

And then, like invisible hands are pulling him in two, at the seam he parts further up and down. It’s clean— for the most part. The farther they split, the more the white soma stretches, leaving lines stretching like chewed wads of bubblegum.

The woman is not in her own body by the time the head severs in half, too, a smile on the left and nothing but a hollow, yellow iris on the right.

“Like this?” the man to the right can’t help but tease. The shock on her face— the tremble in her hand clutched to her heart— it’s so delicious, after all. It nearly makes him giggle “Awfully dramatic, aren’t you, little ghost…?”

But all she hears out of her own mouth is gaping, wordless nonsense. White Zetsu beams, and she can again note the way his teeth all look like fangs sanded down.

“We should take you back,” she can see the right side speak, twisting its half independently at the waist they share. The left leans into her space, so close breath should be felt but is not, a throat mouthless yet still able to growl. “Unless you want to help us after all.”

She swallows.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

My, my simple sir, this ain't gonna work

Mind my wicked words and tipsy-topsy slurs

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The moon is full that night as Zetsu finds a solution of sorts to the liquids inside of him becomes thicker and juicier, nearly enough to make White’s tongue water as if it's looking for a way out. He gasps now, rhythmically with each drum of Black using his one arm to grip White around the waist and grind into one another. The lighter side moans, tilting his chin up as the yellow centered within pelvic leaves trembles with anticipation of release.

Even with a scene so romantic and serene Zetsu, of course, must live up to his name. The more vocal tongue whines again, and now words follow as pink nails dig into Black’s skin. “I...wish...our little ghost was here…” he mutters, sounding utterly impetuous about it. It's an obvious desire, but to admit it is absolutely demeaning to them both. A silence follows, though to be entirely quiet in nature is truly impossible. Black lets the sounds of the forest speak their say before answering the needy White. Distance between question and answer, however, does not cause his determination to waver:

“She will be...” he promises, and as if to prove a point making White gasp as claws dig into his back. “Soon.”

The crickets chirp, the frogs croak, the nightingale sings its tune, and now Zetsu too joins the choir of love. The scent of pollen perfumes the moist starlight.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

I can't take this place, no, I can't take this place

I just wanna go where I can get some space