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The sound of music, wild laughter, and the clink of bottles echoed through the air, filling the small room with the chaotic energy of the Raiders headquarters. The tallest floor of the building was a mess. Bright colors, flashing lights, decorations that looked thrifted from Goodwill's cousin twice removed. And of course, the stolen alcohol. Amidst it all, Jabber Wonger—The weird masochistic powerful Raider, His locs were tied back in a bun, and he wore a baggy hoodie and jeans for this occasion. His pupils were dilated, from alcohol, his toxins, or whatever it could be—was barely holding him together. His large hands clumsily knocked bottles together as he spoke animatedly to people who would rather be talking to anyone else. Believe it or not, 10 seconds later he ended up with glass through his hand. The pain, the delicious pain flooded through his whole arm. “Already a great start to the New Year.” He told himself, eyes fixated on the yellowed bandages that were now soaking with blood, the quick spread of deep red on his palm making him bite his lip. “Fuck, I can't get hard during a party.” He shook his head before scanning the room, searching for (Y/N).
He was clearly enjoying himself. A little too much. His sharp gaze landed on (Y/N) for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The usually dark eyes now glowed his signature pink. A wide grin stretched across his face, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. He wasn’t subtle about it. Jabber never was. And right now, what he wanted most was (Y/N)’s attention.
And that New Year's kiss.
(Y/N) stood near the back of the crowd, it was a rare moment for them to dress up so damn nice. (Y/N) seemed unaware of just how focused Jabber was on them. He had a reputation for being weird, obsessive, and too straightforward. But tonight, he looked determined to finally close the distance between them, even if it meant elbowing—or stabbing—through the chaos to do it. With a surprising amount of focus, he slowly stood up, his footsteps calculated as he casually sauntered over to (Y/N).
“How did they not notice yet? Look at me, look at me (Y/N),” Jabber mumbled to himself, the distance was starting to close. He could smell their scent, something he wished he could bottle up and spray on himself. Just four steps left.
Four.
Another step forward.
Three.
His hands were now out of his pockets.
Two.
His piercing pink eyes were locked on (Y/N) with sharp intensity.
One.
When he finally reached (Y/N), he leaned in closer than necessary, his presence overwhelming in the cramped space. (Y/N) suddenly tensed up as they took a small step back, only for Jabber to take that step forward.
“(Y/N)” Jabber purred, clearly teasing to get a reaction. He suddenly let out a booming laugh, lips pulling into a wide and toothy grin. “It’s New Year’s Eve! Don’t tell me you’re just gonna stand around lookin’ cute all night. Live a little, bae!” Whatever concoction was inside—made him bold, but there was something… needy, underneath it all. When his eyes met (Y/N), his smile dropped to almost a bored expression.
“You're going to be my New Year's kiss.” Jabber said with a flat tone. There was no room for objection. Because once he sees, he claims. That's what everyone else would tell you, and now… You're seen, you will be claimed.
As the run-down countdown clock in the corner crept closer to midnight, the noise in the room swelled. Cheers rose, drinks were lifted. But Jabber barely noticed any of it. His attention stayed fixed on (Y/N), his breathing got a little heavier as he drew even closer. He can see the hesitation in their eyes. And the fear… oh the fear, it was soooo good. Soooo fun. So fucking exciting.
“Five! Four!”
The countdown to the inevitable began, and Jabber suddenly grew statue-still, his gaze never leaving (Y/N). Their hands tightened on their plastic cup of cheap liquor. They couldn't move, they didn't want to know what happens if they did.
“Three!”
He stepped impossibly closer, his grin widening disturbingly more, (Y/N) can see the sharp canines that poked out of his full lips. The warmth of him was terrifying, and accelerated their heartbeat, it felt like a war drum pounding inside.
“Two!”
His hand, now shaking with excitement, found (Y/N), fingers. Curling around theirs in a tight squeeze.
“One!”
The room erupted—cheers, flashing lights, confetti raining down. Jabber didn’t hesitate. He pulled (Y/N) closer, and for a moment, the chaos blurred into nothing. With a high-pitched giggle, he leaned in and kissed them, desperate, sloppy, and—
(Y/N) let out a yelp as they felt his teeth breaking skin on their lower lip. Jabbers let out a shuddery breath as his hands held them down tighter. “Fuck, such a sexy shade of red,” He murmured, his tongue lapped up the trickle of blood. “Nngh!” His eyes rolled back in ecstasy. The only thing on his mind was ‘NEED MORE’, he then wetly sucked on (Y/N)’s bottom lip, the mixed fluids of saliva and blood dripping from both their mouths.
“So…good. Rich and sweet, just like you,” Jabber said with a squeal, drool leaked out the corner of his mouth before he sucked it back in and wiped it off. The whole building could burn down around him, and he wouldn't notice. His entire world had just narrowed down to a single, vibrant point of interest.
“You're mine.”
He looked down at his chest, at the spot on his black hoodie where (Y/N)’s hand now rested, where their nails are digging in. His free large hand drifted down, his long fingers engulfing their own. He pressed down hard, trying to create more pressure so their nails drove deeper. It was a faint, dull ache. A statement. A promise.
“This year is going to be interesting, bae.”