This comic is TECHNICALLY a prequel to both the actual musical and to my fic "Can't Go Back."
It's vaguely alluded to in the first chapter where Zanka had gotten the courage to leave Jabber. He didn't even make it a full season before he caved and went back.
desc 18+ ⸝⸝ college au
zanka keeps his distance. jabber doesn't. late nights, sharp words, and quiet tension blur the line between hate and something else.
a/n found myself doomscrolling yesterday and stumbled upon a video w this prompt, uhhhh can you tell i fell in love immediately, creds to @/b4ku.kk on tt. this was so fun to make and is another long one, i hope you enjoy it ♡ ( also yes i based the room number after the first ep they encountered each other, am i a genius or what ).
wc 1362
the dorm assignment email was a mistake. that's what zanka told himself the first night he walked in and found the room already hazy. not messy. not loud.
hazy.
the window was cracked open even though it was november, a fan wedged against the sill like it could outrun the smell. sweet. burnt. unmistakable.
jabber was sprawled across the bottom bunk, one leg dangling off the side, headphones crooked around his neck, eyes half-lidded and red in a way that wasn't from crying.
"you must be my little valedictorian," jabber said, not bothering to sit up. voice slow. vowels stretched thin. consonants swallowed whole. "c'mere, lemme look at you."
zanka stood in the doorway with his suitcase still in hand.
"you're smoking in here."
jabber grinned, "was."
zanka didn't smile back.
he walked in, set his suitcase upright, already mentally calculating how to file a room reassignment request without sounding dramatic. jabber watched him unpack like it was live entertainment. crisp folded shirts. labeled folders. color-coded binders.
"jesus," jabber muttered. "you alphabetize your socks too, mr bad attitude?"
zanka's jaw ticked, "dont call me that."
jabber sat up then, slow and deliberate, elbows on his knees. his hair was messy in a careless way that looked intentional. his hoodie hung loose, collar slipping just enough to show collarbone and ink.
"what should i call you, then?" he asked, smirk curling lazy at the edges. "sir? your highness? dean's list?"
zanka shut his drawer harder than necessary.
"just don't talk to me."
jabber laughed under his breath.
"oh, this's gonna be fun."
it got worse before it got better. jabber never studied in the room, but he was always there. music low. window cracked. lighter clicking. laughing at nothing. inviting people over and then forgetting they existed ten minutes later.
zanka tried noise-canceling headphones.
tried the library.
tried ignoring the way jabber's voice dragged through the room like smoke, low and amused and constantly pushing.
"you ever relax?" jabber asked one night, watching zanka rewrite the same paragraph for the third time. "or you just live like that? tense as hell."
zanka didn't look up.
"some of us care about our futures."
jabber leaned back in his chair.
"some of us don't need to kill ourselves to feel smart."
silence.
zanka finally glanced at him.
jabber was watching him differently now. not just amused, assessing. eyes dragging slow over the way zanka's sleeves were rolled neatly to his elbows. the way his fingers tightened around his pen.
"you're always mad," jabber murmured. "what's got you so wound up, mr bad attitude?"
"maybe you."
jabber's grin sharpened.
"yeah?"
zanka stood abruptly.
"i can't breathe in here."
he moved toward the window. jabber stood too.
"window's already open."
"it's not enough."
jabber stepped closer, close enough that zanka could feel the heat of him. the faint scent of weed and something darker underneath, skin and smoke and recklessness.
"you're not mad about the smell," jabber said softly.
zanka's breath stuttered once before he caught it.
"you don't know what i'm mad about."
jabber tilted his head.
"i think i do."
and then he reached out. just two fingers. hooked into the fabric of zanka's sleeve. not pulling, just there. zanka could've stepped back yet he didn't.
"don't," he warned.
jabber's voice dropped lower.
"don't what?"
their chests were almost touching now. zanka's pulse was visible in his throat. jabber's thumb brushed against his wrist, slow. testing.
"you act like you hate me," jabber whispered. "but you look at me like you wanna break something."
zanka's composure cracked first.
he grabbed jabber by the front of his hoodie and shoved him back against the desk. the chair scraped loud against the floor. papers scattered. jabber's breath caught — not scared.
thrilled.
"there he is," he murmured, eyes darkening. "knew you had it in you."
"shut. up."
zanka's hands were still fisted in his hoodie. jabber didn't move them. instead, he leaned forward into the grip.
"make me."
the kiss wasn't soft or romantic. it was teeth and tension and weeks of pretending they didn't feel it. zanka kissed like he studied — precise at first. controlled. jabber didn't. jabber bit and laughed against his mouth.
"you're so fuckin' angry," he breathed. "it's hot."
zanka shoved him down onto the desk fully this time. the lamp tipped and books slid. jabber's hands finally moved — gripping zanka's waist, dragging him closer.
"say you don't want this," jabber murmured, voice thick, teasing even now. "c'mon, mr bad attitude. say it."
zanka didn't say it. he kissed him again instead. harder. angrier.
consent wasn't spoken — but it was there in the way jabber arched up into him, in the way his fingers hooked at zanka's belt and tugged.
"you're impossible," zanka muttered against his neck.
jabber laughed breathlessly.
"you love it."
clothes came off in uneven pieces. shirts first, buttons flying, fabric tugged hard. then hands everywhere — desperate, clumsy, heated, gripping, exploring. zanka's anger had been loud and sharp, but once jabber's back hit the mattress, it turned into something else entirely. something jagged and raw, and entirely under his control.
he hovered for a second. breathing heavy. jaw tight. pupils dark. you could feel the tension in his chest radiating through every inch of him.
jabber reached up and brushed his thumb along zanka's cheek. softer now. careful. grounding.
"you good?" he asked quietly. no teasing. just checking.
zanka swallowed and nodded once. that was enough. then jabber's hands found him fully. sloppy, heated, wandering, gripping. palms on shoulders, fingertips dragging along ribs, thumbs brushing over skin that shivered under contact. zanka's back arched instinctively, hips tilting against him, desperate for friction.
it wasn't gentle. not really. not even considerate. but it wasn't cruel either. it was friction and heat and hard, shouted curses, lips colliding, teeth grazing, gasped breaths mingling. jabber's lazy voice, usually so cool and teasing, had gone rough and breathless. broken phrases, half-formed praise, each word scraping against zanka's ear like fire.
"that's it— yeah… you're so fuckin' tense… let go…"
zanka did. in pieces. in shards. each sharp inhale. each shuddering grip. each soft whine pressed into jabber's shoulder. each grunt of effort and release. every time jabber whispered "mr. bad attitude", it was intimate, almost worshipful despite the mockery.
jabber's hands didn't stop. explored every ridge, every curve of tension, finding places that made zanka hiss and buck instinctively. fingers pressed, dragged, thumb rubbing, skin burning under his touch. each time zanka came, jabber held him there, steadying, teasing, pulling, until the shivers subsided just a little before starting again.
the mattress creaked, soft and uneven under their movements. zanka's own hands gripped at jabber's arms, pulling, scratching lightly, claiming him as desperately as he was being claimed.
then jabber shifted, pressing closer, mouth brushing the nape of zanka's neck, teasing, biting just enough to make him groan and arch again. zanka's legs tangled with jabber's, hips grinding without conscious thought, desperate, needing more friction, more skin, more heat.
his fingers slid along zanka's sides, tracing the taut muscles, teasing over sensitive spots, brushing along inner thighs, pressing and curling. each touch, deliberate, almost intimate in its chaos. the room filled with breaths and wet sounds, curses, laughs broken by moans, and the occasional sharp hiss of pleasure.
when zanka came again, it was harder, messier, loud enough to shake the thin walls. jabber's hand moved with him, coaxing, stretching the release, never letting go, never letting him fall too far.
afterward, the room was quiet except for their heavy breathing, slow, ragged exhales. the fan hummed weakly in the window. the moonlight spilled over the tangled bodies, catching beads of sweat on skin that glimmered in the dim light.
zanka laid on his back staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, limbs trembling. his fingers still twitched where jabber's had been moments ago.
"you're gonna pretend that didn't happen tomorrow, huh?"
zanka didn't answer. jabber smiled faintly.
"that's fine," he said. "i like when you're mad at me."
a pause. then, softer:
"just don't switch dorms."
zanka closed his eyes and didn't move away when jabber's fingers slid into his.
Jabber doesn't realize how heavy Lovely Assistaff actually is until he's groaning and sliding trying to pick her up off the ground after asking Zanka to let him hold her.
Jabber poisons him and Zanka with an aphrodisiac part 2 😛
(Part 1)
(AO3 Link)
Zanka’s eyes widen in mortification as the blood drains from his face. He stares up at the ceiling of the cave, his breath shuddering. “The fuck did you do to me?” He breathes out.
He looks down at his tangled legs. “Oh my god, its not going away,” he cries out, desperate. Hot tears pool in his eyes. “Jabber, how long is this fucking poison gonna last?”
Jabber curls his lip down, his voice dipping all sweet and sad. “You don’t wanna stay here and play with me?”
Zanka’s stomach flips. “Stop it.”
Jabber kisses beneath his ear as Zanka cries out a moan again. “Stop what?” He asks playfully, singing lightly.
“Jabber,” he pleads. “I can’t… do it again…”
His voice dips down to a pained, desperate whine. “It hurts…”
Jabber shudders in glorious agony, Zanka’s plea enough to tip him over the edge. He moans low and deep against the ground, hips twitching, his muscles clenching up with a seized burst of hot, white light.
Ohhhhh, fuck.
He knows exactly what Zanka means. His erection isn’t going away. He clenches down on his jaw, pleasure searing into a zapping, hot-red pain, a deliriously intense agony that has his entire body cringing inwards.
“Holy shit,” he grits out, giggling, grinding down. “FUCK!”
He leans his head down, muffling himself, before biting down on Zanka’s shoulder.
“Jabber!” Zanka yells out, arching his back. “Stooo… ougghhhhh, fuck…. staugh….. aughhhhhhhhh… mhmmmm… oh no… no, no, no…”
He heaves in and out, gasping for air, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m gonna come again… fuck… keep biting me… harder… harder!”
Jabber sinks his teeth down, gnawing with the back of his mouth, as Zanka nearly screams. Jabber feels a sick burst of wetness against his thigh as his body roars with that hot, intense, painful wave of pleasure.
“Oh my god,” Zanka cries, doused in sweat, skin sticky and warm, gasping and gasping for air. “Oh god. Oh god…”
