lovetheunknown

(Gender-neutral Reader × Jabber Wonger — soft, comforting)

Your car breaks down on a dark highway at 2 a.m., and Jabber just happens to stop by. Between bad coffee and easy laughter, you both find a kind of peace you didn’t know you needed.

Your car died at 2 a.m., halfway between nowhere and nothing. The only light came from a lonely gas station sign buzzing like a bug. You stood under it, phone at 5%, trying not to panic.

A motorcycle rolled in, loud and alive. The rider took off his helmet and shook out a mess of hair. He had that wild, “trouble follows me” vibe. “You look stranded,” he said, smiling like this was fun. “I’m Jabber.”

You gave your name and pointed at the hood. “It… made a sound. Then stopped making sounds.”

He laughed and popped the latch. “I speak ‘dying car.’” He poked around, found a loose cable, and tightened it with a coin. “Try it now.”

The engine coughed, then settled. You almost cheered. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Just a guy who can’t sleep,” he said. “Coffee?”

Inside, the station smelled like old sugar and dust. The clerk pretended not to watch as Jabber handed you a paper cup of terrible coffee. You both sat on a milk crate by the window, trading dumb stories, watching moths slam into the glass and try again.

“Why were you out here?” he asked.

“Needed air,” you said. “But the world felt too big.”

He nodded like he knew that feeling. “Happens to me when I stay still too long.” He bumped your shoulder with his. “Some people need quiet to feel okay. I think I need noise. Or company.”

You stared at the black road, softer now. “Company helps.”

Thunder grumbled far away. You both didn’t say how nice it felt to be seen by a stranger who didn’t want anything from you except another joke.

When it was time to go, he walked you to your car. “If it acts up again,” he said, scribbling a number on a receipt, “call me. Or if the night gets too big.”

You tucked the paper into your pocket. “What if the day gets too big?”

He smiled. “Then we get bigger.”

(Gender-neutral Reader × Jabber Wonger — cozy, domestic)

A quiet movie night turns into sharing one working earbud, arguing over songs, and laughing over spilled snacks. It’s messy, easy, and real—the kind of moment you both pretend isn’t special even though it is.

The plan was simple: movie marathon, snacks, and doing nothing. The problem: only one working earbud. Jabber called dibs before you could argue.

“You get the left,” he said, tossing the broken right one on the table. “I can fix it later.”

“You said that last week.”

“And the week before,” he admitted, grinning.

You ended up sharing the left earbud, shoulder to shoulder on the couch, phone propped on a stack of books. The picture froze now and then; the sound crackled. Somehow it made the night better.

Halfway through the second movie, you started arguing about music. He wanted loud, jumpy tracks. You wanted something calm. You took turns, passing the phone back and forth, pretending not to watch his face when your song played.

At some point the snack bag tipped and crumbs went everywhere. Jabber looked at the mess, then at you, and laughed so hard he cried. You laughed too, because it was stupid and perfect and yours.

When the credits rolled, the apartment felt warm. Not from the heater—from the quiet between you.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “Thanks for not making me do tonight alone.”

“You never have to,” you said.

He nodded like he was saving the words for later. “I’ll fix the other earbud tomorrow.”

“You said that last week.”

“Then I’ll start now,” he said, and pulled out a tiny screwdriver with a proud smile.

(Male Reader × Jabber Wonger — emotional, serious)

After a long night of fighting, you and Jabber walk through the rainy streets in silence. When the city quiets, he finally admits how much it scares him to fight without you beside him.

Rain beat down like nails. You and Jabber moved through the narrow alley, steps quiet on wet stone. The job was done, but your hearts were still racing. A broken sign buzzed above you, tossing blue light across his grin.

“You’re bleeding,” you said.

“It’s not mine,” he said, breathless and proud. Then he looked at you and the smile softened. “You good?”

You nodded, but the chain at your wrist twitched like it could hear the lie. Jabber noticed, because he always noticed you. He leaned against the wall, letting the rain hit his face. “You know why I hate when you take point?”

“Because you like showing off more than I do.”

He laughed. “True. But no. It’s because when you walk ahead, I can’t see you. And when I can’t see you, I start doing dumb things.”

You stepped closer. “You always do dumb things.”

“Not like that,” he said, serious now. “I mean the kind that gets me hurt. The kind that gets me careless. But when you’re in my line of sight, I fight smarter. I fight meaner. I fight like I want to live.”

The words hung in the steam. You felt them hit, hard and warm.

A Waster clanged something in the distance. The chain slid into your palm by reflex. Jabber reached out and covered your hand with his. “Hey. It’s over. It’s just us.”

You looked at him. Neon flickered over rain-soaked metal and the curve of his stubborn mouth. “You only fight harder when I’m watching?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Because I want you to see me win.”

“You don’t have to perform,” you said. “You already have me.”

He blinked. Then that real smile showed up—the one that made the world feel less heavy. “Say that again.”

“You already have me.”

He tugged your wrist until the chain looped both your hands. “Then promise me something.”

“What?”

“If I start getting loud to hide the fear, pull me back.” He swallowed. “And if you start going quiet to hide the hurt, I’ll pull you back.”

“Deal,” you said.

(Gender-neutral Reader × Jabber Wonger — light-hearted, flirty)

You and Jabber sneak out to the city’s night market, where neon lights, noise, and trouble mix together. Between laughter, teasing, and a few unexpected moments, you realize peace can be loud too — especially when it’s with him.

The night was loud with music and laughter. Neon signs flashed in every color, painting the broken streets in pink, blue, and green. You shouldn’t have been there—it wasn’t exactly a Cleaner-approved area—but Jabber had convinced you.

“C’mon,” he said, tugging your sleeve with that grin that could start wars. “We worked hard all week. We deserve to act like idiots for one night.”

Now you stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the middle of the upper market crowd, surrounded by the smell of fried food and smoke. Jabber had traded his usual jacket for a hooded vest that did nothing to hide him. “You’re terrible at blending in,” you said.

“I’m too good-looking for that,” he said, tossing you a stuffed toy he’d won from one of the stalls. “Here, a prize for surviving another week with me.”

You rolled your eyes but caught it anyway. “You cheated.”

“Only a little.”

The two of you wandered through the market, bumping shoulders and sharing pieces of greasy food wrapped in paper. He tried to pull you into every dumb contest he could find: throwing darts at bottles, racing drones through broken hoops, even a dance machine that shocked your fingertips when you missed a step.

When you won the last round, Jabber raised his hands like he’d just seen a miracle. “No way! You actually beat me?”

“You let me win,” you said, smiling.

He looked you straight in the eye, grin fading into something quieter. “Not this time.”

You froze for a second. The air between you was full of lights and noise, but somehow it felt silent. Jabber took a small step closer, his voice lower now. “You know, it’s weird.”

“What is?” you asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Every time I try to have fun, you’re the only one I want around for it.”

The words were simple, but they hit harder than any fight you’d had together. You stared at him for a heartbeat too long, then said, “You really don’t know how to shut up, do you?”

He laughed—loud, bright, completely unbothered. “Nope. But you like it.”

You tried not to smile, but failed.

The night went on. The lights dimmed as the crowds thinned, and you both ended up sitting on a rooftop overlooking the whole district. The city buzzed below like a heartbeat that wouldn’t quit.

Jabber leaned back on his hands, glancing at you. “You think they’ll let us live like this forever?”

“Probably not,” you said.

He smiled, watching the last firework fade across the sky. “Then we better enjoy every second.”

You nodded, resting your head against his shoulder. The city glowed beneath you—loud, messy, and alive.

(Male Reader × Jabber Wonger — emotional and romantic)

After a mission goes wrong, you and Jabber Wonger take shelter in a half-collapsed tower during a storm. Between the sound of rain and the quiet of the night, the walls between you finally start to fall.

Rain hit the metal roofs like tiny stones. The city lights below looked blurry through the storm. You and Jabber had just finished a tough mission, both of you soaked and out of breath.

“Over here!” Jabber yelled. He ran toward an old tower with half its walls missing. You followed, the chain around your wrist rattling as you moved. Inside, it was dark except for a few sparks from a broken machine.

Jabber sat against the wall, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Guess this is home for now,” he said.

You sat down across from him, water dripping onto the floor. “You sure know how to pick spots,” you said.

He smirked. “You keep following me, so you must not hate them.”

You didn’t answer. You watched the rain pour through the ceiling.

After a few minutes, his voice got softer. “You ever think maybe we fight so much ‘cause it’s easier than talking?”

You looked up. He wasn’t smiling now.

“You talk plenty when we fight,” you said.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “but you don’t talk back unless I’m throwing punches.”

You sighed. “Maybe you don’t stop long enough to hear me.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Alright, I’ll shut up. Say whatever you want.”

You stood and crossed the small space between you. The sound of the rain grew louder. “You scare me sometimes,” you said quietly. “Not because you’re crazy. Because you care too much about people who don’t care back.”

Jabber blinked. “You scare me too,” he said. “You don’t let anyone get close enough to even try.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t. The chain slid off your wrist and wrapped once around both your hands like it was alive. Neither of you pulled away.

“So what now?” he asked softly.

“Now we just sit,” you said. “No more talking.”

He nodded and leaned his shoulder against yours. The tower creaked. The storm filled the space between you.

When morning came, the rain had stopped. The two of you stood at the broken edge of the tower, the city glowing faintly under the weak sunlight.

Jabber looked over at you. “You think people would freak out if we stopped fighting all the time?”

“Probably,” you said with a small smile.

He grinned back. “You’d be okay with that?”

“Yeah,” you said. “We’ve been through worse.”