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He slowly approaches, keeping quiet and having his staff close to his chest as he does so. Truly - Zanka does not want another unpredictable fight, but at the same time he wants to improve. He needs to.
Jabber is the only way that he can improve.
Bookmarked by BlueB
19 Feb 2026
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Zanka's been ignoring the letters. As long as he doesn't reply, they should eventually stop. Or at least, they'll become a problem for future him.
Except he's officially out of time, because his siblings have come to take him home.
Or: the one in which Zanka doesn't want to be in an arranged marriage, and ends up spilling the beans to Jabber during a fight. Jabber suggests eloping.
- Language:
- English
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- 42,848
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- 4/4
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Bookmarked by BlueB
18 Feb 2026
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selcouth — the unfamiliar, rare, strange and yet marvelous.
Jabber looked up at the ceiling of the cave, and felt something unlock within his chest, and Mankira weighed heavier on his fingers all of a sudden. Freak? Him? How cute. The bruise on his hip throbbed deliciously.
The blonde, maybe brunet, raider with a large stick swung his weapon around, and pointed the sharp ends of the blades and spikes at Jabber.
Jabber felt a laugh bubbling up his throat, Oh Zanka, how I wish you could feel what I'm feeling now—but your eyes are so, so distant. I feel—
"—like you don't like me, man."
"I don't particularly like geniuses like you." Zanka spat.
or, a janka swap au fic.
Bookmarked by BlueB
18 Feb 2026
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Zanka and Jabber happen to run into eachother. They’re both itching to fight, but the building collapses and they get pancaked together underneath the rubble.
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They smash underneath a collapsing building guys im bad at summaries okay.Bookmarked by BlueB
16 Feb 2026
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Jabber's not exactly sure what happened, but he wakes up in the Cleaners' medical bay, handcuffed to the bed. He's tired, cold, and missing Mankira, but thankfully his dearest foe Zanka is there to cheer him up. Maybe. Probably. His head is still a mess.
Or,
Jabber's putting together the pieces of what happened to him. It will hurt. He might like it.(Title, summary, and tags subject to change)
Bookmarked by BlueB
16 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
He wakes with a start, sitting up, only to find all four of his limbs are handcuffed now. He pulls against them experimentally and finds they’re more snug than before, and that the chains are shorter.
“Can’t have you hurting yourself again after Eishia did so much work to fix you,” the blond man in front of him says.
He’s sat with his legs crossed, newspaper open as if he’s actually reading it.
…Maybe he is with the way his eyes scan the page slowly.
“We’ll make you some leather straps if this continues to be a problem.” The bag is back on the side table, but it’s out of his reach now. He couldn’t even lean over to grab it with his mouth. Maybe he could use the stupid unwieldy bun they gave him to drag it closer, but he’s pretty sure he’d just end up pushing it off, and he’s also pretty sure neither Zanka nor the guy in front of him would bother to put it back within his sights. He smiles, nauseous. He’s stuck.
He ends up getting bored of staring at the guy and trying to get him to talk or trying to read his newspaper or looking out the window, and begins to chew at his fingers, slowly picking layers away with his teeth and swallowing them. His nails are next once his fingertips grow raw, biting at them until each and every one begins to pulse and bleed, until his teeth can’t reasonably reach any more, and he can’t help but latch onto the next thing, biting and gnawing at his hands, pulling against the handcuffs quietly, hoping sincerely that soon enough he’ll have a nice, dark smattering of bruises, the kind he can press on whenever he wants, the kind—
“What are you doing?” The man is asking. Of course he is. Jabber just keeps tensing his jaw, pressing his teeth in further, newly hoping to break the skin, to make himself bleed. Maybe even give himself an infection. “Eishia! Fuck—Zanka!”
He locks his teeth into the meat of his hand, even as cold, clammy hands try to pry them apart. There’s a small voice, nervously speaking up, and then the hands leave, only for him to feel a familiar prick and slowly, as the skin of his shoulder bulges, he’s injected with enough of whatever it is for it to actually get him to—
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“Are you into me? Cause that’s what I’m reading. I feel it, the…” Jabber gestures wildly with his hands. “The feeling. Y’know what I’m saying.”
Never in his life has Zanka been struck more dumb.
“Oh, come on, man!” Jabber shrieks, desperation seeping into his voice. “The feeling! You’ve been around the block, haven’t you? You come all the way out here, light a fire for me, stare at me while I eat…”
“I think… you’re experiencing indigestion.” Zanka deflects weakly.
- Language:
- English
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- 7,252
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- 2/2
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Bookmarked by BlueB
16 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“Do you even know how this works?”
Jabber nods. “I’ve seen them do it. Rats, dogs, people even. Looks painful. Looks fun.”
Zanka has a few issues with this response, but the urge to get his arms around a docile Jabber overrides any complaint — it’s a rare phenomenon to be near him without the risk of having his jugular vein removed. He takes Jabber by the collar of his hood and pushes him down against the makeshift bedding. While it’s in Zanka’s best interest to show Jabber a good time, he'll be damned if he allows himself to become his ragdoll.
He intends to leave in one piece.
Their legs and hips slot together as Jabber writhes underneath him joyously. There’s a mix of goading and praising in the string of expletives he spouts, and it’s a good thing Mankira is deactivated or Zanka would be choking on his own froth by now. He buries his face in Jabber’s shoulder as he rocks against him.
“Just put it in, put it in,” Jabber prattles. “Don’t be shy. This is how they all do it.” He flips over, onto his wrists and elbows, and presses his rear against Zanka.
It’s not a bad position. It’ll be harder to fall victim to a surprise attack this way. Zanka eagerly takes Jabber’s hips and adjusts himself. Enjin once told him that people are at their most vulnerable when engaged in sex because their brains melt out of their ears. He definitely knows what he means, now. He wonders if his mentor would be proud.
He pushes inside and Jabber wheezes, choking on his own saliva.
“Oh, Z. This is a new kind of pain!” He says. Zanka pours out his canteen where their bodies meet to wash away a trickle of blood. “Not as intense as I was hoping, but it’s real nice…”
“I think there’s supposed to be more to it than pain,” Zanka grits, and it’s the last thing he remembers saying before he’s lost to the sensation of his endeavors. The world narrows down to their little spot in the trash heap, where the setting sun warms their backs and responsibilities are forgotten.
Eventually, it registers that Jabber has been cackling on and off the whole time. His body spasms with each laugh and it impairs Zanka’s rhythm. While it’ll feel better for the both of them if he stays still, Zanka’s relieved that Jabber seems to be enjoying himself. His head falls to rest against the back of his neck. It’s one of the few places of his body that is unmarred by burns or scars.
Zanka’s choker selects that moment to fill the air with its insistent trill. Dazed, his hips stutter, and his head clouds in annoyance.
“Better pick up, buddy.” Jabber says. His voice is hardly cohesive, muffled against Zanka’s jacket.
The last thing he wants to do is speak to anybody else. The call can’t be for anything more than a simple check-in, but if he ignores it, the cleaners will be concerned — perhaps concerned enough to send someone to retrieve him. Although the idea is sobering, he glances back down at Jabber. His eyes are unfocused and his hair is rumpled.
Zanka tears the choker off and tosses it aside. He reckons he won’t last much longer, anyway. By the time someone arrives he’ll have his clothes back on and Jabber will have made himself scarce, surely.
“Oh, you like me that much, do you?” Jabber watches the choker land next to a broken radio. He flips himself around and wraps his arms around Zanka’s shoulders. He pulls his face closer and takes Zanka’s entire right cheek into his mouth. Zanka ought to be disgusted but resumes his thrusting anyway.
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Standing by the other end of an ice tub is Santos, looking small and numb and rooted to the spot.
“Discúlpeme,” Garcia interjects with the pure iciness she reserves for when men piss her off, arms crossed over her chest, and stance rigid and ready. “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Langdon lets out a big annoyed huff and glances at her over his shoulder. “Nothing,” he deadpans with a dismissive wave in Santos’s direction. “Just your new best friend continuing to put patients’ lives in danger because she wants to do everything her fucking self.”
“That’s not—” Mohan begins, then hesitates when Langdon shoots her a look, but she just steadies herself and continues to address Garcia only. “That’s not entirely accurate.”
Garcia’s eyes shift to the intern in question, whose body language hasn’t changed at all. “Dr. Santos?” she asks, just on the soft side of neutral.
Santos doesn’t react.
Bookmarked by BlueB
16 Feb 2026
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Leah's sick the night before Pittfest. Robby gets his ticket back.
Bookmarked by BlueB
16 Feb 2026
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Denial. Robby could recite the stages of grief like a prayer. But this? No, it simply wasn’t true. He’d seen Jack, what, an hour and a half before 8:24? Jack, who’d joked about…something. What was it? Hawkeye, that was it. Jack had called Robby ‘Hawkeye.’ And then he’d left, saying he’d see him tonight. Jack had said specifically that, he’d said he’d see Robby tonight. That wasn’t…that just wouldn’t make sense.
“No, he, uh…he’s back on duty in a couple hours, he’ll be coming in for his shift.”
It was such an inane thing to say. Exactly the sort of thing he’d find heartrendingly innocent in the family of a patient, when delivering the bad news. Not rational. Not real. But this had to be real, Jack had to be coming in for his shift. Handover was in two hours.
Officer Anders stepped in. “We’d like you to come down to the station with us to identify the body.”
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Robby finds out that he's Jack's emergency contact in the worst possible way: when he's called in to identify the body.
Can be a sequel to 'Day or Night,' but also works as a standalone. Title from 'I Was an Island' by John-Allison Weiss.
Series
Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
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Jack was poised for a beautiful three-pointer when Jake spoke, "So, hey, what's it feel like to get fucked?"
The surprise of it scattered his focus for an instant, but figuring that was what Jake wanted, Jack let muscle memory pull him through, releasing the basketball—and getting nothing but net, fuck yeah.
Then he looked over at Jake and tipped his head, nonchalant. "Vulnerable."
Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
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When his phone rang loud in the stillness, waking Jack from the sleep of the dead he'd perfected in war zones half a world away, he sat straight up in bed and knew: something was wrong.
His phone announced it was Dana—and it was 0721—which shot a little thrum of worry through him as he answered. "What happened?" he asked, no preamble. She wouldn't wake him if shit hadn't gone sideways.
"Robby hasn't come in yet and he's not answering his phone," she said, voice grim. "He's never missed a shift without calling." She spoke quietly, probably standing in the middle of the ED, trying to keep up a brave face for everyone else. As much as she could, anyway. People tended to notice when the fucking chief attending didn't show up to work.
- Language:
- English
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- 14,369
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- 1/1
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- 4
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Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
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Hardly anyone at PTMC knows they’re married. That is until Jack shows up unannounced one evening. On a stretcher.
Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
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An unexpected break-up means Robby ends up going to Pittfest with Jake after all. He asks Abbot to cover half his shift, and Abbot is happy to agree—surely half a day shift can't be nearly as chaotic as the usual night shift. Everything that happens later changes his perspective on plenty of things, from just how crazy the day shift can get, to where exactly he wants to stand with Robby.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 13,552
- Chapters:
- 1/1
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- 244
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- 2,688
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Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
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There was no playing nice with Jabber, there was only violence. The promise of it made his knees weak.
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Zanka has been tasked with keeping Jabber distracted. Things take a turn that he wasn’t expecting.- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 20,662
- Chapters:
- 3/3
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- 147
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Bookmarked by BlueB
15 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Jabber reached down between them, lining Zanka up with his entrance, as Zanka reached to grip his hips.
There was no word of confirmation, no asking if he was ready, nothing that said “go”.
One minute Zanka was staring up at Jabber, and the next he was throwing his head back, his eyes squeezing shut, Jabber’s name on his lips like a curse and a declaration all at once as he took Zanka all at once.
“Fuuuuuuck”, Jabber breathed out, his own eyes squeezed shut, a look that screamed pain and pleasure etched into his face.
Zanka’s nails drew blood on Jabber’s hips. Jabber’s own fingers were digging into Zanka’s chest.
They stayed like that for a moment, Jabber getting used to the feel of Zanka inside him, and Zanka getting used to the feel of Jabber.
Jabber let out a shaky breath, and Zanka reached up to trace a scar above his heart.
“Don’t be gentle”, Jabber said, his eyes burning. “Give me all you’ve got.”
Zanka didn’t need to be told twice.
His arm shot out and grilled the back of Jabber’s neck, his other guiding Jabber as he lifted his hips and slammed back down. Zanka matched his every move, fucking up into Jabber at rough and brutal pace.
“I fucking hate you”, Zanka spat.
Jabber laughed, the sound echoed off the walls of his room. He threw his head back and Zanka’s mouth found its way to the junction connecting his shoulder and his neck and he sank his teeth into the meat of it, biting, claiming.
“No you don’t”, Jabber panted. “You just like to pretend you do.”
Jabber’s hands came to rest on his face, and Zanka let himself be pulled into a kiss as he continued fucking up into Jabber. It was an awkward position to be kissing in, even harder to fuck in.
Zanka wrapped his arms around Jabber’s waist and rolled with all his strength, pushing Jabber onto his back, never once breaking their kiss. His dreads fanned out onto the pillow and Zanka once again found himself marveling at the way the gold beads seemed to glow like a halo around him.
His beautiful, feral, devil angel.
Jabber made a shocked noise, but Zanka swallowed it down and gripped the undersides of Jabber's thighs, digging in his fingers and pushing his hips forward. He felt Jabber lock his ankles behind him, urging him forward harder, faster.
Jabber moaned, and Zanka knew he was hitting deeper in this position. He pulled out slow, teasing, then slammed forward quickly just to hear Jabber make that noise again, and again, and again. He could feel how hard Jabber was again, despite how long he’d been edged, and he reached between them and began to jerk him off at the same speed he was fucking him.
“Oh fuck”, Jabber moaned into the kiss.
He felt Jabber jerk above him, felt the clench of his ass around his dick.
“Jabber”, Zanka gasped in response.
Jabber licked into his mouth, making small, gasping noises every time Zanka slammed his hips into him. He could feel the heat in his stomach building, the momentum he was building became erratic, wild, he could feel himself losing control as he continued to fuck into Jabber with reckless abandon.
“Fuuuck, Zanka!”
Jabber kissed him. And moments later Jabber came, the sound of Zanka’s name trailing off into a moan so pretty Zanka wanted to commit it memory.
Zanka’s hand was coated in Jabber’s cum, and he brought his hand up to get a taste just as Jabber crushed his mouth to his.
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Summary
Zanka earned his first victory against Jabber. Tipping the scale might have tipped them into each other, but if the solution they made was a deadlier thing than they'd ever been as separate components, that was neither here nor there.
Series
- Part 1 of Catalyst
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 9,234
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- 1/1
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- 1
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- 84
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- 1,362
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- 139
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Bookmarked by BlueB
14 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Zanka was suddenly seized with the compulsion to tack that spirit to the flesh. Pin Jabber to a surface that he couldn’t escape from, skewer them together. Dragging Jabber’s naked thighs around his waist and fumbling with himself for a moment, Zanka did just that. He felt nauseous, giddy, sick with vertigo, like every ugly thought and action that he'd ever swallowed was writhing out of his throat and burrowing into the warm body beneath him.
Jabber made a wonderful, wretched noise. Still only able to move his head (even then, just barely), he twisted his face to the side, then towards the ceiling, and screamed raggedly. Zanka hissed when he started to move. Yelping, Jabber lifted his head and hammered it against the hard corner of the arm rest, repeated until his fourth attempt was stopped by Zanka shoving a palm onto his forehead to bury him in the couch cushion.
Ever since the Trash Beast, Zanka knew that there was nothing timid in how Jabber sang out his pain. Each thrust dragged out an unholy noise. Eventually they blossomed into a series of screams from his stomach that were sometimes sliced short by a sob.
“It hurts-” Jabber hiccuped, “It hurts, it hurts, oh, god, Zanka, it hurts-”
A particularly pained dry heave broke into a screech of ragged laughter. Jabber’s chest and stomach rose violently in turns, unable to keep up with the demand and resulting in his eyes rolling back- every now and again, he would faint and Zanka would maul him back to awareness.
At one point, he wrestled off the outer layer of his uniform, leaving only the black compression shirt.
He couldn't seem to keep his mouth off of Jabber. Licking, biting, every time he settled somewhere, his eyes fell on another part and he’d have to start again. Collarbones, the spot under his ear that made him twitch, shoulders, throat, the corners of his mouth. When he lingered at Jabber’s mouth too long, he’d get bitten back. In revenge, he chewed up Jabber’s neck. The scar over his chest kept calling him back to bite, as if he could somehow claim that as his doing if he marked it up enough. Whenever he'd gnaw over the sternum, Jabber winced and giggled deliriously.
“Zanka, Zanka-”
Their position was making his knees burn from the friction of the threadbare couch. Grunting, he wrapped an arm around Jabber’s waist and sat up, dragging Jabber with him- locs draped over both of their shoulders, hid their faces. He’d trained himself into the force necessary to get Assistaff to decapitate iron reinforced Trash Beasts- shoving a human up and down, forcing him to meet Zanka’s thrusts, didn’t even meet the definition of effort. This way, it was less of a strain on his neck to keep his mouth on Jabber’s chest.
Slumped over him, Jabber shattered into one continuous scream. When he could spare the oxygen, he laughed brokenly, mindlessly. When Zanka gripped his hip, crushed his femoral pulse point right to the hollow of his pelvis, Jabber’s shriek was cut off, followed by the painful delivery of an exhale. Something wet seeped through Zanka’s shirt.
The sudden tensing set Zanka off in turn. Throwing Jabber onto his back, he fell into him like an animal and finished with his teeth back around Jabber's collarbone and his forehead flush with his skin.
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Summary
Everyone knows that alphas and omegas are exceptional, possessing skills and senses that betas lack.
And everyone knows that alphas and omegas can’t mate or bond with betas.
Zanka Nijiku, since he presented as a beta, always knew he needed to work twice as hard to even be able to be on the same playing field as his teammates. To especially prepare for anything that might come his way.
What he wouldn’t be able to prepare for is for Jabber Wonger to decide to finally make Zanka his mate.
Series
- Part 3 of Janka Mania
- Part 3 of Gachiakuta Fics
Bookmarked by BlueB
14 Feb 2026
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Summary
Jabber shakily reached between their bodies and covered his fingers in Zanka’s cum. He lifted it to his lips and licked it.
“Happy birthday, Boy.”
or
Jabber tries and fails to take care of Zanka for his birthday, instead he ends up getting his head knocked between the washer and dryer. Everybody's happy.
Bookmarked by BlueB
14 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
“You treat me so well, Zan-Zan, making me come over and over again,” Jabber whispered in his ear. He then moved back to Zanka’s lips, giving them a soft peck, before trying to move away.
Zanka lurched forward and bit down on his lip.
Hard
Jabber trembled, whined, and then whimpered.
Pure sweet pain consumed his senses.
“Let me fuck you’, Let me go,” Zanka asked, his tone a mix of begging and demanding. He wriggled his wrists, trying to loosen Jabber’s hold.
Jabber shook his head, “Ahh-I can’t, I have to do this.”
Zanka glared. As if trying to force Jabber to let go with only his eyes.
Oh, those eyes.
No, he couldn’t let himself get distracted. He just wanted to please Zanka.
(If only the man would let him.)
He would just have to show him, bury any protest Zanka could have with pleasure.
Messily and unthoughtfully, Jabber slammed his hips down, forcing Zanka’s dick as deep as it could go, hitting Jabber’s prostate deadon. His mind blanked, every thought he had shot from one ear and left through the other. Every nerve in his body burned in reaction. His eyes watered, and his toes clenched.
"Oh-my fuckk." Jabber sloppily babbled, his hold weavering. Strength left his body for a split second. That was all Zanka needed. Before he could take back control. Zanka immediately thrust up, hitting his prostate.
At that moment, he knew he fucked up.
He left himself open. Completely vulnerable to the hungry man below him.
Jabber yelped, his nails dug into the thin skin of Zanka’s wrist, desperately trying to gain control back. His thighs squeezed around Zanka's sides, but Zanka kept moving. He surged forward again. Setting a relentless and desperate pace. Jabber put all his weight into his position, fighting for control.
Zanka didn't let him; things were finally going his way. He continued. Jabber wasn't heavy enough for his weight to substantially impact Zanka's movements, Zanka was stronger than him.
For once, Jabber regretted not eating as much as he should. Zanka always pestered him about it, but he never listened. Maybe if he had this would be easier. Jabber moaned, scratching into Zanka's chest.
Deep satisfaction welled in Zanka's chest; this was what he wanted. Jabber is being vulnerable, allowing Zanka to see a side of himself he showed no one else.
“I thought you were smarter than that.” Zanka mocked, his voice slightly out of breath.
Jabber’s mind was too much of a mess to think of a reply.
Zanka watched tears well up in his eyes, begging to be released from their prison. He wanted to lick them.
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Summary
“Despite their near-death battles, Jabber and Zanka haven’t really fought, not in the way where you’re intending to hurt someone’s spirit, make bruises all over, and leave it in tattered little pieces. You can heal from being knocked around by Lovely Assistaff or recover from Mankira’s poison-laced caresses, but you can’t take back the words you purposely say to cut into someone’s very core.”
Or, the one where Jabber and Zanka realize the weight of a real, emotionally charged fight.
Bookmarked by BlueB
13 Feb 2026
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Summary
Zanka clenched his jaw as Jabber closed the distance, bitterness burning hot at how familiar it was—like this wasn’t the first time they’d ended up tangled, breath to breath, pretending it meant nothing.
His breath came in sharp, controlled pulls, Assistaff held loosely at his side, its gleaming tip pointing to the cracked ground. Jabber now stood a few feet away, one hand clutching a shallow, weeping across his bicep where Zanka’s staff had sliced through fabric and skin earlier.
“Damn, Mr Bad Attitude,” Jabber rasped, a wide, unhinged grin splitting his face. His pink eyes glittered with something beyond battle-lust. “You been workin’ out, dog? That stung like a mother. Feels amazing.”
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Or Zanka and Jabber clash for the first time in a while —and nothing’s changed.Series
- Part 3 of Janka Frenemies with Bennies Chronicles
Bookmarked by BlueB
13 Feb 2026
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You've Gotten Into My Bloodstream by werecoyutie
Fandoms: Gachiakuta (Manga), Gachiakuta (Anime)
15 Dec 2025
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Summary
“Yer late.”
“Got held up,” Jabber slurred, a wide, unfocused grin spreading across his face. He swayed on his feet, his hot pink eyes struggling to land on Zanka. “Traffic was a bitch.”
Zanka couldn’t shake his attention from the blood clinging to Jabber.
“How many?” The question was out before Zanka could stop it. It wasn’t his business. It shouldn’t be his business. But the smell, the state of him… it painted a vivid, ugly picture.
“Now, now. Can’t be tellin’ the enemy my boss’s plans, can I?” Jabber took a shuffling step closer. “That’s classified Raider intel, baby. You wanna know, you gotta trade somethin’ for it.”
--
Or Zanka gives his complicated situationship a bath.
Series
- Part 2 of Janka Frenemies with Bennies Chronicles
Bookmarked by BlueB
13 Feb 2026