I've been going insane over jabber recently so heres another one of my nonsensical ramblings
Pt.2 of my other childhoodbsf!Jabber x f!reader (technically I think this should be pt.1 but oh well) :)
Reading pt.1 is not necessary at all, but could be fun to read after if you're interested
Again, this is 100% a self indulgent fic. im too lazy to add warnings right now, but nothing too crazy.
Severely unedited, I'm sorry 😔🙏
꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦
Jabber Wonger wasn't always insane, at least that's what he'd like to believe. His life only really started when he met you. You, the cowardly girl. You, the weak one. You, the one with hate in her eyes. It was gradual at first, how he'd notice you sitting alone in the alley hiding from fights. He'd asked about you once, receiving a mere shrug and your name. Oh God, your name, (Name), he was more than intrigued now. Atleast, as intrigued as a seven year old could get. The next time he saw you, he abandoned all sense of propriety, not that he'd had much to begin with.
"Hey, you, girl."
He was crude, standing above your tired body with a smile on his face. A hand outstretched as if it was the most natural thing in the world. His world had widened that day, showing Jabber things he'd never thought possible. The sheer hatred in your eyes when you lifted your head sent a shiver down his spine. You'd be his — whether you wanted to be or not — he decided as he stared gleefully into your glare. You were filthy, even he could tell that much, malnourished too. Thats okay, he'll fix you up good, you'd have to be healthy to fight after all. Even Jabber at the ripe age of seven knew that asking to fight right off the bat wouldn't work, so he settled.
"Hungry? Ma's cooking right now. Come."
It wasn't a question, why would it be? You were his now, and soon enough, he would be yours too. He just had to make you see that. Your eyes narrowed into a pitiful glare, but the pain in your stomach was enough to get you off the ground, taking his outstretched hand as you followed him. Everything raced through Jabber's mind at once, you'd be strong soon, and he could be patient for once. What was it his dad called it? An investment? Yeah, he was investing in you, and though he didn't fully grasp it yet, it would be the best investment of his life. Your hand felt so small in his, he'd noted as he dragged you behind him down the familiar streets that led to his home, the scent of his mom's cooking was already wafting through the air, they were close. He held onto you a little tighter, not wanting you to slip away, he couldn't lose you now, not after he'd finally gotten this far. Opening the door without any regard for quietness, he barged into his home, dragging you, stumbling slightly as your feet hooked on the doorstep. He called out for food, including you as if you'd always been there, as if it was right for you to be here, and any other outcome would be wrong, sinful even.
"We're hungry!"
His parents could be heard in the background, not that he'd cared, dragging your thin body towards the table, watching as his mom portioned out an extra plate for their guest, no questions asked, though the look she shot to her husband was a clear sign this wasn't a regular occurrence. He remembers clearly how you'd eaten like you were starved, which looking back on it, you probably were. He hadn't let go of your hand despite the impairment to his own eating, and once you were done he dragged you off, not even thinking of finishing his meal. He'd much rather get you ready, you were his after all. He'd treated you almost like a doll, dragging you by the hand as he gathered things, not that you'd complained. You were more than happy to go along with his whims now that he'd fed you, the glare wiped from your face as you followed him through his home.
"(Name)."
He remembers the way you said your name, he remembers it all so clearly. It was the first time you'd spoken to him after all. A grin etched itself from ear to ear across his face. He turned to face you, erratic movements halted as he took you in. Eyes traced every part of your face before he spoke, replying in turn with his own name. The stillness didn't last long, soon he was back to collecting items from around the house. You had followed obediently as he brought you to the bath, sitting you down in the tub before shaking his head at his actions.
"Okay.. mom said I shouldn't watch other people bathe. Do you know how to?"
It was a simple question, he remembers the dirt streaks across your face as you shook your head, face twisted in self loathing, as though you'd disappointed him and yourself with the gesture. He sighed, it was cute really, a seven year old with fists of steel and a heart stolen by someone he hadn't even known all the way, that didn't matter to him though. He'd decided you belonged to eachother, end of story. There was no other options in his mind, not that you had thought any differently.
"Kay, I'll get my ma, she can help ya."
The sentence was short, the delivery almost bored, but the way her face relaxed, as if seeing that he wasn't angry with her was all that mattered, made him grin as he ran off to get his mom. After a few hours had passed and you were passed out in his bed he finally allowed himself to turn in for the night too. Tomorrow you'd be better, yeah? You were fed, cleaned, clothed, housed, and now you belonged somewhere, you belonged to someone. What else could you need? Tomorrow, he decided, he'd start teaching you to fight. First though, came sleep.
"Cmon! Just one hit? It doesn't even have to be hard!"
Jabber whined, rolling around in the dirt behind their house, as if it could absorb his frustration. Though not at you, never at you. It had been weeks now, and you refused to even try and hit him. You were a scaredy-cat, that much was clear now, not to mention ridiculously weak from God knows how long of malnourishment while you rotted away in those alleys. Your reply was shy and meek, as if talking back would injure you.
"I don't want to hurt you. You saved me, Jabber."
Another whine left his lips, followed by reassurances that he wanted you to hurt him. Worry painted your gaze, he'd been able to read you easily enough now, he'd always been perceptive after all. At this point it'd almost been two months of you living with him, and you'd adapted to him, going along with any whim of his, aside from this. Fighting was something you were strongly against. You'd told him once that hitting him would be like telling him you hated him and everything he'd done for you, which you couldn't bear. He'd waved you off at the time, not realising how stubborn you could be.
"Fine, we can do strength training instead then!"
The way your face lit up at his compromise had his ears heating up, not that he'd payed it much attention. A smirk crossed his lips as he threw you into a frankly ridiculous routine, it was clearly more than any other child your age would be able to do, not that you complained, only quitting when your body finally gave out in protest. He was absolutely star struck. You were perfect. He knew he'd never leave your side, not willingly atleast.
Months flew by faster than he could keep up with them, and as he grew, his masochistic urges grew with him. You on the other hand seemed to adjust perfectly, honestly? sometimes jabber felt like you were reading his mind – no, it was more like you'd crawled into his brain and made a home for yourself there, always able to see what was going on behind his eyes. It was slow at first, as you learned to fight –finally giving in to his wishes – you had learned to read him perfectly, the way he'd cozy up to your side, pestering you until you'd shove him away and glare at him. At first, that was all it took to satisfy him, then time passed, and his needs grew alongside the two of you.
You saw it before he did sometimes, the way his fingers would twitch, like his body couldn't contain the feeling anymore and it needed to be released. He still remembers the first time you punched him. He had been clinging to your back, rambling about some nonsense in the hopes you'd get fed up with him and throw him off you. Seems he had underestimated your annoyance that time, but God, the result? a swift hit to the face that sent him to the ground. He felt alive, like every nerve was alight and all he could focus on was the pain in his nose, electricity coursing through his veins. You had crouched next to him, watching him grin and shudder before nodding, as if you'd known what he'd needed before he had. That day had changed everything, he no longer wanted a glare or shove, he wanted you to hurt him, he wanted to feel that way again, like his body was able to feel every piece of your touch, long after it had faded. It only escalated from there, you had bitten him once after he shoved his finger in your face. His jaw dropped and his knees felt weak, the marking that you had left? he wanted it tattoed so he could remember it forever. He soon discovered that any marks you left on him made him feel more alive than any pain you could inflict, a bruise from your punch? he would press it constantly to feel you hitting him again. Your bite marks on his skin? he shivered everytime he touched them, tracing them with a stupid grin on his face. You truly were perfect for him. Strangely though, he no longer felt the same about the bruises others left on him, he'd been surprised when a fight had ended, and instead of that familiar excitement coursing through him at the bruises scattering his body, he felt somewhat disgusted, that was your job, your privilege, he didn't want other people marking him, only you. you. you. you. his perfect (Name). And that time when someone else bit him as a last resort? the anger he felt that day was something akin to the sun, burning, insatiable, and massive. he'd felt dirty after, like the only way to resolve this was to cut it out of his skin, then murder his assailant. Luckily (in your eyes atleast), you'd found him before anything had happened, pacifying him with your teeth and scratches. Ohh your scratches. he loved them so much, almost as much as your pretty teeth, the way your nails sunk into his skin, tearing him apart? he loved every second of it, after all, nothing could compare to the way he felt when you drew his blood. If you were a drug – scratch that, it wasn't an 'if', you were his drug, and he was addicted. Not that he wanted to overcome it, on the contrary, he wanted more, he wanted to overdose on your touch, feel you in his veins. If he was to die, he wanted it to be by your hands, no exceptions. If you wanted, he wouldn't even fight back.
It was at age nine when he had deemed you stronger than him. You protested, of course, by that time he had rubbed off on you enough that any harm inflicted by him was no longer painful, it was simply routine. You hadn't yet realised it, but he had. It was in the little things, the way you let him drag you around. The way your words were law. The way you looked when drunk off his violence, eyes shining with a fire he lit. He was yours, completely and utterly. Someone laid their hands on you? As if. You hadn't realised it yet, but you had him mesmerized, he would follow you anywhere, God, he'd cross the border for you if you asked. He was whipped, not that he knew the meaning of the word, you were always the one with the fancy vocabulary. Honestly he'd probably learned more from you than that run-down school his parents had enrolled the two of you in. No matter how often he said it, it would always ring true. He was yours. that was an indisputable fact of life. It was more apparent to him than anything else, yeah sure, the sun rose in the morning, but maybe one day people would find out it didn't, not the way they thought, but with you? That would never happen, He would be yours, always and forever, it didn't matter what anyone said, it didn't matter if somehow, someway, you ended up on opposite sides of a war, nothing else mattered when it came to you.
That's why, when he found that set of jewelry, he had to take it. It was far too expensive for him to buy, but who needed money when you had sleight of hand? Before the vendor even saw him he was gone, bag tucked in his pocket as he walked back to you, the velvet rubbing against his fingers as he grinned. He was able to single you out immediately, he didn't need to see you to know where you were to find you, it was like second nature as he wandered through the crowded streets, turning corner after corner until he found you.
You were smiling, and he felt off. Why were you smiling, if not at him? His eyes zeroed in on the current object of you attention, a scowl gracing his features, wiping the excitement off his face as he saw the theif who'd stolen what was rightfully his. There was a cat, all black, it seemed to be a kitten, curled in your lap as you stroked it's fur. It was a mangy little thing, purring like it owned you, fur matted and one ear with a cut clean through it. Stupid thing, who'd it think it was? He was yours, first and foremost, always. Nothing would take that away from him. He scoffed, making you raise your head, he watched as your hands stilled, features lighting up as you registered his presence behind you. You stood up quickly, showing off the kitten as if he you'd found buried treasure.
"Look Jabs! Isn't he so cute? I thought you'd like him! Ah, sorry, I didn't mean to wander off..."
She pulled the kitten closer to her chest, as if seeking comfort from it upon seeing the scowl on his face. He quickly realized his mistake, letting his annoyance towards the new addition fade as he soaked in your attention. The velvet pouch hung heavy in his pocket, reminding him of his earlier giddiness. He grabbed the kitten unceremoniously, making it yelp as he held it in one hand, grabbing yours with the other. Damn thing looked like it had fleas, he wouldn't let them bite you, he couldn't. So he accepted the burden as he dragged you home, dumping the cat in oil to kill off the fleas before washing it off with you by his side, debating names for the stupid thing as you leaned into his side. It hindered him slightly, but he'd never dream of thinking of it like that, if anything the cat was hindering him from getting to be closer to you. Speaking of, the gremlin wouldn't stop thrashing and howling, as if the lukewarm water was killing it slowly. He scoffed, watching as his blood mixed with the water from the scratches littering his skin. What did it think this was? The inky one allowed to cut and bite him was you. He held the cat tighter, scrubbing it roughly as you muttered apologies beside him, he brushed you off – in his eyes, nothing you could do would ever be wrong.
Once the newly named Meeko was bathed and dried Jabber watched as you coddled the thing. He wasn't jealous, atleast that's what he kept telling himself. Why would he be? He was yours first, no stupid animal could override that. Right..? The weight of the gifts he had gotten you hung heavy at his side, momentarily forgotten as he watched you put the cat down and walk towards him. He raised a brow, watching as you stopped infront of him, a soft smile on your face before delivering the heaviest blow he's ever gotten from you. The feeling of your lips on his cheek set his body ablaze, his hands grasped at nothing by his sides. You were so soft against him, eyes closed as you pressed love so soft he wasn't sure it was for him against him. He could feel the heat radiating off him, he wondered if you could too. Could you hear his heart? how fast it was beating? did you feel the way his breath hitched at your touch? did you see the longing in his eyes as you finally pulled away? the way his hands reached out just too late to keep you there?
"Thank you, Jabber. I really am grateful for you, and everything you've done for me."
The words were spoken so softly that if he hadn't been fixated on your every breath he doubts he would've heard it. Your expression then had seared itself into his mind forevermore. Eyes pointed at the ground, cheeks warm and a bashful smile on your face as you poured a portion of your heart out onto his, filling all the gaps and cracks he never knew existed. His face couldn't heat up anymore if he'd thrown boiling water on it. Hands frozen at his side as his mouth opened and closed like the car window he'd broken last week. He'd stuttered the day you kissed him. It was the first time he could remember having such a visceral reaction, nervous giggles leaving his mouth as he tried to pull his scattered brain back together in order to answer you.
"I-its nothing... I'd, well, I'd do anything for you, you know that."
The words left his mouth before he could process them, eyes widening as they darted around, looking for any distraction that might get him out of this blubbering mess you've turned him into. Your giggling snapped him out of it, then and there he realised, he would marry you one day. Actually, why wait? He pulled the velvet pouch out of his pocket, searching for the ring that caught his eye earlier, ignoring the rest of the items as his fingers made contact with the cool metal. He drew in a shaky breath, your eyes were on him alone, and he knew he looked a mess, eyes filled with adoration as he took a knee, that what his dad did, so it must be how you propose, yeah? With one knee touching the ground, he grabber your hand, vaguely aware of the kitten wreaking havoc and his parents aweing in the doorway as he swallowed the nerves. He pulled the ring up to your finger, watching your expression change from shock to something he couldn't name. He adored that look, it was what had him on his knees in the first place. you looked at him like he was everything, like he could carry the world and still be able to hold your hand despite everything, you looked at him with everything he didn't know yet, and everything he could recite from heart about why he loved you. Oh... that was it, wasnt it? He loved you. That was the look in your eyes as you watched him slip the ring onto your finger.
Love.
You loved him.
The moment was shattered as his parents cooed in the background, watching your face light in flames as you waited for him to let go of your hand. Instead, he held your hand tighter, standing up as he pulled you into his arms, which you gladly took as a way to shield your burning face from your now parents in law(!?) Jabber, of course, started laughing, the rare moment of tenderness dead and buried as he teased you, causing you to punch him in the face, to which he simply laughed harder, his parents, used to all of this, congratulated the two of you. Their ditzyness was endearing most of the time, but when they darted out of the door to get a marriage certificate to make it official your jaw dropped. Sputtering as you tried to stop them, but it was too little too late, they already saw you as their daughter anyways, why not make it official?