It's in the title. Gachiakuta Oneshots. Please drop your requests !! - I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE CHARACTERS. ALL OF THE CHARACTERS BELONG TO KEI URANA.

At Groundfall High, Zanka Nijiku is the class vice president-polished, disciplined, and always doing what's expected. Jabber is the opposite: troublemaker reputation, sharp tongue, and zero respect for school politics. They're not supposed to cross paths... except they keep being forced to. Student council obligations, shared detention, and projects neither of them can escape turn their rivalry into something louder-and quieter-than either of them planned. Because when enemies sit this close, it's hard to tell where the fights end and something else begins.

"🇮 🇩🇴🇳'🇹 🇹🇷🇺🇸🇹 🇧🇪🇮🇳🇬🇸 🇼🇮🇹🇭 🇦 🇩🇮🇨🇰." Byakko doesn't remember her past - but she knows getting close to Tamsy is dangerous. He's calm on the surface and chaos underneath, a quiet smile hiding something sharp she can feel even when he says nothing. She should keep her distance. She should run. But she doesn't. Something in him pulls her in, something she can't name, something she's willing to face even if it destroys her. She just doesn't know whether that part of him is meant to save her... or break her. 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒆𝒕 3 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒅𝒐'𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒍

Zanka has been really hard on himself with training lately. He's even depressed that he is not even good enough to be with his friends as a "Cleaner". Soon enough, Jabber helps him get through it even though one is a "Cleaner" and the other a "Raider". Will these two opposites bicker the whole time? Get together? Or maybe both?

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐓 ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʰᵘʳˡᵉᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗʳᵃˢʰ ʰᵉᵃᵖ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈᵉˢᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵐᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ ⁱᵐᵖᵘˡˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈʳᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃʷᵃᵏᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ⁱⁿˢᵃⁿⁱᵗʸ, ᵘⁿᵃʷᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵃᵒˢ ⁱˢ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵘⁿˡᵉᵃˢʰ GACHIAKUTA VARIOUS X READER FANFIC IN WHICH, You had spent your life in the slums, sifting through mountains of refuse where survival was measured in scraps. One evening, beneath a shroud of rusted iron and twisted beams, your hand closed around something different―a sword, cracked yet whispering with forgotten weight. You did not know it then, but that single grasp would unearth more than metal... it would unchain calamities 17082025 @TINNITUZZZ NOT CROSSPOSTED ON OTHER PLATFORMS

"Rules are the only thing that keep the world from falling apart. But Jabber is the thing that thrives in the cracks." Zanka Nijiku has finally achieved the impossible: a life of his own. After years under the suffocating thumb of his elite family, he has a studio apartment, a "Standard" routine, and a growing following for his minimalist lifestyle content. It is a world of white walls, ironed shirts, and absolute control. Or so he tells himself. The first crack appears in the smell-a sharp, medicinal hit of menthol tobacco that lingers in a room with no windows open. Then, the objects start to move. A chair is tilted. A favorite pen vanishes, only to reappear in his bed. Zanka tells himself he's just tired. He's just paranoid. He's just... failing. But the shadow haunting his peripheral vision isn't a hallucination. It's Jabber. Towering, lanky, and sickeningly handsome, Jabber is a masterpiece of filth and designer rags. With waist-length dreads that trail like funeral shrouds and eyes bloodshot from a permanent adrenaline high, he doesn't just want to watch Zanka-he wants to dismantle him. To Jabber, Zanka's "Standard" life is a cage, and he is the only one "loving" enough to burn it down. As the physical incursions grow bolder and the digital messages more intimate, Zanka finds himself trapped in a predatory dance. He is a man who fears nothing more than being a "failure," and Jabber is the one person who knows exactly how to make him fail. In a city of millions, Zanka is realizing that his locks are useless. Because Jabber isn't just following him home. Jabber is already there.

No one would ever be able to completely understand their love but there was no denying that Jabber and Zanka were perfect for each other.