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Synopsis: Maintaining hair as long as Jabber’s can be tedious. But you’re the only one who he’s willing to let do the job
content: college!au, bf!Jabber x gn!reader, reader is black coded though not explicitly stated
W/c: 2k Master list — here
a/n: I lowkey need to retwist my own locs but I’m too lazy to do it myself. hence why I came up with this idea lmao. Also note, me personally, I call my hairstyle and what Jabber has as locs. Jabber’s specifically look like wicks. Some black people do not like the term “dreadlocks” cause there is a connotation with the word as implying the style is “dreadful”. I personally don’t get offended, but some people might and I want to write something that positively embraces the beauty of black hair styles.
Jabber hated wash day for multiple reasons.
One: it was a tedious process because of how long his hair was. It required thorough washing to ensure that all the dirt, sweat, and lint was properly cleaned out, and because of how much hair he had, he went through shampoo and conditioner like crazy.
Not to mention how much time it took to get done. After washing it, he’d then have to retwist it and sit under the dryer for at least a good hour if not more, because his hair was like a stubborn sponge.
The other reason Jabber hated wash day was because, though he’d hated to admit it, he was tender headed. Any little tug at his scalp caused him pain, and most stylists had a knack for damn near trying to pull his hair out, so he avoided going to salons like the plague.
For the most part, he could do his hair himself anyway. Saved him the extra money. But because the process of doing his hair was so annoying, Jabber put off doing it until the new growth had grown out so much that he was concerned his locs would start inter-locking together (which would cause him greater pain if he had to pull them apart and therefore he wanted to avoid that outcome as well).
Hence the reason why Jabber was never going to complain if you ever offered to do his hair. Normally, he didn’t like random people playing in his head, or touching his hair for that matter. He’s cussed more strangers out than he can count for thinking it was okay to touch him without permission. Not to mention it was weird as hell.
But with you, due to the bonding experience you shared and the care you took into maintaining his hair, Jabber eventually grew to look forward to wash days.
“Babe~hurry up. My neck’s killing me here,” Jabber whined, scrunching his eyes shut to keep the soapy suds from getting in them.
“I literally just started,” you say with an eye roll. “I told you that you could either wash your own hair in the shower or let me do it. You said and I quote ‘it feels nicer when you do it so do whatever you need to do.’ The only way for me to reach properly is if you sit down.”
Currently, Jabber sat hunched over the kitchen sink while you scrubbed down his scalp. Unfortunately, because he was so tall, the position was less than ideal for him, and you tried to work as quickly and thoroughly as possible. But you constantly had to stop and push Jabber forward so that the water from the faucet could reach the back of his head.
“I think you’re trying to either drown me or break my neck.”
“If I wanted to do either, I’d do so in a more tactical manner. Now stop moving. I’m getting wet.”
Jabber huffed. Though he acted annoyed, he loved the feeling of your slender fingers working through his head. You were gentle, nails digging into his scalp to work the shampoo through thoroughly. Not to mention whatever you were using smelled pretty damn good.
“Did you just fucking moan?” You laugh, hearing the faintest of groans coming from your boyfriend’s lips as you run your fingers through his hair to get all the shampoo out.
“No. You’re imagining shit. And whatever you’re using smells hella good. Has my scalp tingling.”
“Semiu recommended it.” You pick up the brown bottle of conditioner to read the label before applying a generous amount of the white substance to Jabber’s hair. “You were complaining about the cold weather drying your hair out and she said anything with tea tree oil would be good.”
Semiu was one of your closest friends on campus even though she was currently an MA student while you and Jabber were both undergrads. She was like your unofficial big sister who took you under her wing the moment she saw you looking lost trying to find your advisor, saying it was important for your people to stick together. Ironically, she was in the same department as you so in addition to hair care or life advice, Semiu often tutored you when you needed it.
“She really knows her shit,” Jabber mumbled, his neck beginning to cramp up from hanging over the sink. “But don’t tell her I said that or she’ll get a big fucking head about it.”
You laugh. “I won’t.” You absolutely were.
After rinsing out the remaining conditioner, you turned the faucet off. You wrung out as much of the water out of Jabber’s locs as you could, squeezing the strands that had softened considerably due to the conditioner. The excess water would make his hair heavy, so you tried your best to get as much out as possible.
“Okay, you can rise up. And don’t-“ you add harshly, “do any funny shit like you did the last time and shake your head. You get a bunch of water on my floor, you’re mopping it up.”
“Boo. Killjoy,” Jabber teased, making you playfully slap him. He wrapped the towel around his hair, unable to keep from completely not getting your floor wet, but it was better than the last time where you slipped and bust your ass from one of the puddles he left behind. (He swears it was an accident)
Jabber follows you to your living room. You turn on the TV, putting on a random episode of the Boondocks for background noise while Jabber takes one of the cushions from your couch and sets it on the floor to sit on. He settles in between your legs, his back toward you and the towel draped around his shoulders. You arrange all the supplies you need on the coffee table: loc clips, holding gel, rat tail comb, a few hair ties.
“You want a st—“
“No.” Jabber cuts you off immediately. You laugh.
“So damn tender headed,” you playfully scoff. “Can just once you let me do a fun style with your hair?” You push his head forward. It was always easier to start retwisting from the back and work your way to the front.
“You braid too damn tight,” Jabber retorted. “Last time I let you do cornrows, you braided my thoughts and dreams into them. Had a whole face lift too.”
“As if a single thought goes on in that head of yours to begin with.”
Jabber gasps in mock hurt. “Hey! I be thinking.”
A smug grin spread across your face. “Babe, unless it’s chemistry related, there’s nothing but two brain cells floating around up there, and they’re playing tag with one another.” Playfully, you tilt his head back to kiss his forehead. “But that’s okay, cause I still love you anyway.”
Your boyfriend was a chemistry major. He got weirdly excited about the science though it made no sense to you whatsoever. Jabber was a rather smart student. He got straight As despite his aloof nature. He just didn’t care to participate in classes that were of no interest to him, doing just enough to pass. It drove some of his professors crazy, because Jabber sometimes fell asleep during class if he found it boring (which was most of them outside of chemistry).
Jabber pouts, more annoyed looking than anything. “Now you just being mean. I in fact don’t only think about chemistry. You occupy my thoughts just as much. To the point it’s so damn annoying that I can’t think about anything else.”
Heat warms your face. Jabber cheekily grins at your flustered expression, and you push his head forward with a huff. “F-face forward. I can’t do your hair with you lookin at me like that.”
“Whatever you say~”
The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you work, laughing so often at the shenanigans from the cartoon. With the comb, you separate the new growth to make sure it will be twisted into the correct loc, keeping the grid clean and neat. You mutter an apology after Jabber winces slightly when you tug too hard. You apply a generous amount of holding gel to the base of the loc where it connects to the scalp. Then, you gently roll the loc in your palm until the new hair is twisted up tight before holding it in place with a clip. Once it dries completely, you can remove the clips without it essentially unraveling.
All retwisting is is twisting the new hair that’s grown out, or new growth, into the existing loc. It’s just a tedious processes because you now have to repeat the steps with every loc before having Jabber sit under the dryer for his hair to dry.
While you work, Jabber secretly angles the camera on his phone to watch you. You were so focused on what you were doing that you didn’t even notice him admiring you. A tight feeling constricted his chest, one of giddiness but adoration.
No one took care of him like you did. You were meticulous but careful, ensuring that his hair was properly maintained. You were firm but not harsh, tenderly retwisting each loc one by one. You didn’t complain about the length or how long it was taking, only ever scolding Jabber about moving too much or not tilting his head far enough forward.
It filled Jabber’s heart with such joy that he swore he was falling in love all over again.
“Okay, finally done,” you sigh in relief. Your fingers were starting to cramp and you hands were greasy from the gel. “Imma oil your scalp and then we can set up the dryer.”
“Hm..” Jabber mumbled dismissively. Your brow quips up in confusion, but he says nothing further.
You apply the oil mixture you had concocted per Semiu’s recommendations. It included tea tree oil, coconut oil, jajoba oil, peppermint oil, and grapeseed oil. Together they’d not only add back the much needed moisture into his hair, but strengthen his hair and keep it healthy. The last thing Jabber would want was for his locs to thin and break. Not to mention the combination of oils smelled good.
Afterwards, you go to retrieve your overhead hair dryer from the closet, the dryer being able to fold down compactly to fit inside its box. You set it up on the kitchen counter, kicking it up to the highest setting to warm it up quicker. Jabber strolls into the kitchen, tugging along a chair. With a begrudging huff, he sits under the dryer, immediately hating how the heat beat down on his neck.
“We’ll start with an hour to see how much of it drys,” you say, gathering up the long locs, tying the ends together with a hair tie to tuck them under the dryer as well. “I know this part sucks, so let me know if I can get you anything.”
Before you can walk away, Jabber suddenly grabs your wrist. He raises the hood of the dryer with the other hand as he pulls you into him, his lips capturing yours. You squeak in surprise, soon sighing into the kiss. Your chest warms in all the best ways as you trace his jaw with your hand. Jabber is neither forceful nor gentle, but still conveys all the same energy and passion with the wordless exchange.
“Is this my payment for doing your hair today?” You tease when he finally does pull away to let you breathe. “I’m afraid my services cost a little more than a kiss.”
“Hmm what are your terms?” Jabber asks cheekily. “I ain’t bring my wallet with me, y’know.”
“A round of cuddles and a movie will suffice. Now back under the dryer. Or else it’ll cost you extra.”
Jabber obeys with a goofy grin, bearing the brunt of the dryer’s heat with more determination than before. Forget his earlier complaints.
Synopsis: Jabber is head over heels for you, even though you’d definitely try to kill him the first chance you get
Content: jabber wonger x fem!reader but MtF friendly, one-sided enemies to lovers, lots of banter
Master list - here part 1 - here w/c: 1.8k
a/n: the long awaited part two everyone’s been asking for haha. It is written as a part two but could be a read also as a standalone
“You mean to tell me that you got fucking shot?”
You don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or shake your head when Jabber is deposited in your clinic yet again. You swore it hadn’t even been a full week since the last time he was here, but once again, you had your hands full with treating everyone after their recent battle against the Cleaners.
Noerde, as prideful as ever, refused your aid altogether. Bundus wasn’t in terrible condition, so he walked off after a rather light treatment. And Fu was scared shitless if you, so you damn near had to hold the kid down to get close enough to do anything.
Then, there was Jabber.
“Babe, I appreciate your concern and all, but breathing literally hurts right now,” Jabber groans. “Can we save the small talk for later?”
Your expression softens into a frown, not quite your usual scowl but something akin to concern. It disappears just as fast but Jabber clocked it immediately. He grins. “Awe, don’t tell me you’re worried about little ole me-ack! Fucking hell! Goddammit!” He sucks in a sharp breath when you poke his side.
“Yeah, that’s definitely broke.”
“I could’ve been fucking told you that!”
You ignore him, gathering your supplies to begin to work. “Stop moving around. If your broken rib punctures your lung, it’ll be an even bigger pain in the ass to treat. I think at least two may be broken.”
“Sure as hell feels like it,” Jabber grumbles. He is for once quiet as you pull back his bloodied clothes to assess the extent of his injuries. The gunshot wound in his leg was the largest. He also had several gunshot in his chest, but miraculously, all the bullets made a clean exist.
“Good news is that we don’t have to do any fishing for bullets,” you say. “Whoever shot you had to have been a pretty good marksman, because they missed all your vital points.”
“Are you deadass complimenting the person that shot me right now?”
You shrug and begin to dress and clean his wounds. Once they’re properly sanitized, you pull your medical scalpel out its holder, the shiny blade glinting from the overhead light. As you hold it over Jabber, for some reason, you hesitate.
The blade wobbles as your hand shakes. Your eyes rake across his body, trying to find a place that wasn’t too injured to knick him with. All you needed was a small graze. But it seemed like no place existed. If it wasn’t covered in bandages or dried blood, Jabber’s skin had purplish bruises decorating it. For some reason, the sight made your chest constrict, and it was as if you couldn’t bring yourself to harm him further.
“Not to rush you or anything babe, but I’m not a fan of intentionally suffering,” Jabber says, somehow managing that cheeky smile of his though it felt like side was aching more from each breath. “Really takes the fun out of it when I don’t get a say.”
“Sorry…” you shake off your distraction, using your scalpel to knick his cheek. Jabber winces at the quick swipe. Blood barely has any time to trickle out before the wound closes up itself along with the gunshots on his leg and chest. However, the dull ache in his ribs remains.
“Fuck my side still hurts~” Jabber groans dramatically.
“Did you by chance break your ribs first?” You ask while cleaning your scalpel with a cloth. “Remember, my vital instrument cannot fully heal injuries sustained more than an hour ago, unfortunately.”
“Shit you’re right! Damn that Zanka! Ack-“
You sigh, watching as the male curls up in pain while holding his side. “Idiot. Stop moving around so much, else you’ll make it worse.” You help him sit up, careful not to aggravate his injuries more. Jabber stares blankly at you, a rather unreadable expression on his face. You return with a look of confusion. “What?”
“You’re bein’ awfully nice to me right now. You ain’t even tell me to get out of your clinic yet.”
“S-so?”
A grin spreads across his face. “Maybe you don’t hate me as much as you claim to, but to be fair, I like you yelling at me more. This being sweet shit doesn’t fit you.”
Heat flares across your cheeks and you don’t trust your mouth to cooperate enough to deny the accusations. So, you swipe at him with your scalpel, aiming for his face. Despite his injuries, Jabber’s reflexes still are quicker than yours. He twists your wrist, making you cry out and drop your tool. He then pulls you into him, your noses nearly touching when he dips his head down.
Your heart stutters in your chest from the close proximity. And you’re acutely aware of some semi-fruity scent, what ever it is that he puts in his locs. The cut on his cheek that you gave him is completely faded, not even leaving behind a scar.
“Are you finally gonna let me in, or do you still wanna play hard to get?” Jabber asks. “I love the chase so I’m fine with—khk!”
Jabber bites his tongue hard when you head butt him hard enough to make his nose bleed. He is briefly dazed and the pain in his side intensifies, but before he could come up with something witty to retort with, you recoil away from him as if you’d been burned.
You blink the tears out of your eyes, turn on your heel and storm out the clinic without another word.
“Damn…” Jabber sighs. He stares at his hand, your warmth lingering on his palm. “Just when I thought we was making progress.”
Your hand stings the moment your fist connects with the cobblestone. Frustrated tears finally make their appearance, no longer able to be contained alongside the other confusing emotions making your mind fuzzy and a headache pound against your temple.
Everything about Jabber confused you. For such an expressive guy that was practically an open book, you never had any idea what he was truly thinking. You couldn’t explain it, but as much as he irritated you, undeniably something about him intrigued you. Even if briefly.
Jabber wasn’t unattractive. He had his quirks but you thought the Raiders were full of weirdos. And you couldn’t ignore the annoying stutter your heart would do and then flip your stomach made whenever he was around. Especially so when he repeatedly came to your clinic either beat up or experiencing side effects from whatever toxin he stupidly decided to test on himself.
But this time…it was different.
Guns weren’t common. Jabber was lucky enough that nothing vital was hit, but he still could’ve just as easily died from blood loss. The thought terrified you just as much as the idea of potentially losing him did.
Heaving an annoyed groan, you sink against the nearby wall. You pull your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees. How you just wanted to disappear. Maybe then your thoughts would be silent.
“Hide n’ seek’s no fun if you make it too easy to find ya.”
“Go away.”
Jabber wore an unamused look. With a little difficulty, he lowered himself on to the ground in front of you. You could feel his stare, but refused to look up at him.
“Y/n.” You tense when he calls you by your name instead of one of his other infuriating nicknames. The tightness in your chest constricts more. “Come on, will you look at me? What’s got you all upset? I thought we was just having fun.”
“Fun?” You snap, finally meeting his gaze with a teary one of your own. “You arrive at my clinic two short steps away from death’s door, and the thought has me more scared than I’d care to admit! Forgive me for not finding this funny, Jabber.”
“So?” Jabber retorts back with the same irritation lacing his tone. “I’m alive, ain’t I? What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you keep messing with my head!” You yell. “Everything is a fucking game with you and you think this shit is funny! But I have real feelings!”
“You think this whole time I’ve been playing?” Jabber scoffs. A flash of hurt crosses his features. “I’ve been honest with you from the start! You’re the one treatin’ it like a game, because you keep running instead of acknowledging the fact that you might like me!”
“I do not like you!”
“Then look me in the eyes and confidently say it to my face!”
You freeze. You had been trying to look anywhere but him, ignoring the way his deep purple irises bore into you expectantly. But the wall you put up wasn’t working anymore. He could see past it all, and it left you vulnerable.
“I—“ the response dies on your tongue. Heat burns your face and you feel small under his watchful gaze. “Falling for you is dangerous,” you eventually admit. “I see you come to my clinic with more injuries than the rest. Not to mention, Boss has you on the frontlines all the time. You’re not a support like Cthoni or myself, and the chance that you might die is real. I don’t want to give my heart to someone just for it to break at a moment’s notice.”
The confession relieves the weight off your shoulders but now, you’re crying. Tears trickle down your cheeks and the silence stretches on as Jabber sits stunned. You wipe your face and go to stand.
“Just forget what I said.” You start off, but of course you don’t make it very far.
Jabber grasps at your wrist before you’re just out of reach. He pins you to the wall, and before you could protest, his mouth is on yours. He is as sporadic in the way he kisses you, passionate and demanding but still playful when he nips your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Still, he tastes sweet in a way you hadn’t expected. And it leaves your knees weak and you’re unable to put up a fight.
A low groan leaves Jabber’s lips as he presses closer to you, greedily swallowing down your whimpers. His grip on your wrists softens, allowing you to thread your arms around his neck. He’s only slightly aware of the growing throb in his rib cage from the awkward angle as he bent down, but having you in his arms finally made it worth it.
“Goddamn,” Jasper gasps, finally pulling away for you to breathe. His thumb traces over your swollen bottom lip, cleaning the streak of blood off it. “I could kiss these pretty lips all day.”
“Jabber…”
“Listen closely, cause I’m only gonna say this once.” His tone hardens, his seriousness surprising you. “I ain’t dying now or no time soon, so get the thought out ya head. I’ve been serious about you from the start, even when you brush me off or try to push me away. Nothing you could do would make me hate you, no matter how many times you stab me.”
“That by definition makes you a bit of a masochist, idiot…” you mumbled, bashful by his confession. “Only a weirdo likes it when his girlfriend’s mean to him.”
“And?” Jabber grins. His head dips down, lips gracing yours again. “You still love me though.”
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Synopsis: Jabber is head over heels for you, even though you’d definitely try to kill him the first chance you get
Content: jabber wonger x fem!reader but MtF friendly, one-sided enemies to lovers, lots of banter
master list - here part 2 - here w/c - 1k
“Hey there lil’ mama!” An all too familiar grating voice calls you that equally irritating pet name making your face sour in disdain. Closing your eyes, you briefly count to ten to steel your nerves before dealing with the pest that gets deposited on your medical bed.
“You look like hell,” you say bluntly, taking in Jabber’s bloodied form. You nod to Cthoni who brought him to you before the short woman takes her leave. “Who did this to you so I know who to complain to for not finishing the job?”
“Aww, you ain’t happy to see me?” Jabber sounds anything but hurt as he smiles. There’s dried blood caked to his chin and upper lip, remnants of a nosebleed. Tears in his clothes reveal stab wounds and other injuries, suggesting most were likely self inflicted.
“I was happy until I had to see you.”
Jabber merely laughs, taking your blunt remark as a joke (to which it was certainly not). “Don’t be like that mama. You know I’m your favorite per-“ He cuts off with a sharp choking gasp. His body tenses, veins rippling across his skin. The pain that follows is even more intense, bringing tears to his eyes. Through it all however, Jabber still manages a twisted smile.
You scowl. And twist the scalpel deeper into his chest.
“Ack!” Jabber gags. Blood trickles out his mouth. Only when his eyes begin to roll to the back of his head do you pull the scalpel out. As you do, the wound immediately stitches itself closed as do the rest of Jabber’s injuries from earlier.
Your jinki, a medical scalpel, was a powerful tool that could heal any injury that wasn’t fatal. The caveat was that it could only heal the target if one of the injuries was caused by the scalpel itself and injuries sustained more than an hour prior wouldn’t be restored. Still, the jinki made you a valuable healer amongst the raiders.
Typically, a small knick of the blade would suffice. Any additional injuries would heal soon after. You just hated Jabber’s guts and wanted to make him suffer a bit more.
“There,” you say, cleaning the tip of the bloodied blade with a cloth. “Now get out of my clinic.”
Jabber sits up from the bed, flexing his fingers that were no longer tingling from the neurotoxins emitted from his claws. He grins. Despite the fact that you were probably (very much so) intending to kill him, he felt great. Getting healed by your jinki was always rejuvenating.
“Goddamn! Nobody’s better at this than you for sure.”
“Don’t waste your breath with flattery. I’m not going to tell you again to get out.”
“Aww, but we ain’t spent no time together in a minute,” Jabber complains, following you around the clinic as you tried to restock shelves and organize your supplies. “Come on, let me at least take you out to eat.”
“How about I take you out instead and put your heart on a platter,” you retort sharply. Despite your tone, the long haired male doesn’t seem to get the message.
“Babe, I’d gladly let you take me out any day. My heart’s already yours.”
For some reason, you feel heat begin to creep up your neck and over your cheeks. Never mind the fact that he disregarded your insinuation of killing him with doing on a date, but well then again, this was Jabber. He’d get a kick out of either. You hated that particular pet name—babe—even more because of how it sounded so endearing. Implying more than what you two really were (which was absolutely nothing!). Most importantly you hated that the way he said it always made your chest flutter.
“You’re insufferable,” you huff out.
“Yeah?” Jasper asks, still wearing that irritatingly goofy smile. “What else do ya like about me?”
Suddenly, you became aware of your positions. You don’t know when or how it happened but Jasper had you pressed against the wall in between two of the shelves. Your chests nearly touching. His locs nearly tickling your face with the tilt of his head, waiting patiently for a response you didn’t have.
“Y-you…you…y-you…”
He was too close.
Too too close. And it was affecting your ability to think.
That was it.
There was nothing else to it other that he was in your personal space.
That’s all.
There was no hidden deeper meaning, or feelings for that matter.
Especially as it pertained to Jabber Wonger.
“You know,” Jabber mused, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “you’re really cute trying to act like you hate me and all that.”
Just like a switch, your anger returns, rushing through your veins like a current.
And you stab Jabber.
He lets out a strangled sound, caught off guard by your attack. His face visibly pales before collapsing to the ground almost instantaneously. The syringe you struck him with clatters to the floor. Jabber wheezes a stained breath, foaming at the mouth as purple veins crawl across his skin.
His body won’t move. Everything feels numb and painful at the same time.
“Unfortunately, that won’t kill you, but the paralytic is strong enough that you won’t be moving for say maybe forty-five minutes to an hour, give or take,” you say.
You squat down to his level to assess his general vitals. As much as you truly want to eliminate him, the boss would be highly upset if you did. Pressing two fingers to his neck, you note that his heart rate was beating really fast. The corner of Jabber’s lip tried to twitch up, almost into a smile.
You scoff. “Only a weirdo would be excited about being drugged.” Standing once more, you step over his body and walk toward your desk to get a notebook. “I’ll heal you eventually, but first, I want to observe some of the side effects of that paralytic.”
Unable to move, let alone speak, Jabber stares at you, dazed and trance-like while you scribble notes away in the journal, feeling a sense of giddiness despite the pain. Call him a masochist, but he loved how mean and ruthless you were toward him. Others might see it as toxic, but Jabber considered it to be your own way of showing that you cared.
And one day, he’d get you to admit that you were just as crazy for him as he was for you.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I’d like to think that the hantengu clone’s darling would actively try to avoid anything with the colors red,yellow,green,or blue to “not send the wrong message” to the other clones
Them: "Choose whatever color you want. You deserve to have all of them <3"
Also them: "Why that color specifically..........."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
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