Jacksepticeye Hoodie Novels & Stories

Not that I wouldn't mind laying down with all the snacks, it'd be easier to grab them. I hopped over the end of the bed frame and crawled next to Connor, on the side with his good leg. We were curled up next to each other, my leg resting over his good one and his arm around my back. He was wearing basketball shorts and an old school hoodie. I was actually wearing a pair of his sweatpants which he left at my house and some lacrosse pinny I found in the back of my closet. While the beginning of the movie was going, I glanced up at Connor, watching as the muscles in his face tensed up and relaxed. I traced words with my finger on the hoodie's material over his stomach. He smiled down at my hand

I follow them, distracted by my stomach rumbling. “I’m starving,” I announce. “I’ve got something you can eat,” Cameron says, distracted. I stare at him, deadpan, and he glances over his shoulder and smirks. “Dirty bastard,” I mouth. He winks and keeps looking. “What about this?” he says as he takes a sweater from the shelf and holds it up. I look at it and my face falls in horror. It’s a black hoodie and has a large white eye on the front. The pupil is filled with bright colours. It’s a long, skinny fit.

He was so sweet, but I doubted that would help me much against a room of a thousand bloodthirsty eyes that shared a common goal of throwing the omega out. Sensing my unease, he stripped himself out of his grey hoodie and handed it to me. “Here. No shirt in sight.” I pulled the massive hoodie over my head. I could fit three other arms in the sleeves! I groaned, but it could actually work. I could have breakfast in peace. Hopefully.

Grandmother Haze placed a reassuring hand on his arm, her eyes sparkling with understanding. Finally, Collins Haze, a young man with an athletic build, chiseled features, and piercing icy blue eyes, joined them at the table. His sharp jawline and striking tattoo of a phoenix rising from the ashes on his left hand drew attention. He wore a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt, and silver tie shaped like a miniature phoenix, his style impeccable.

Sara asked, leading Evangeline and Victoria towards the dressing room. Meanwhile, in his dimly lit room, Aaron's eyes were fixed on his screen. His hand rested on his chin, his finger on a laptop, zooming in and out of the displayed image of a black hoodie. "Who's this person?" he murmured as he zoomed the logo of the hoodie, the symbol of J was designed by handmade. "J, what does that mean? I can't even guess." Then he clicked the next image of Evangeline, and a blurred-faced man wrapped in a tender embrace. "He is a Korean man. But how did this picture leak? It's not a coincidence; it's leaked on purpose. " He paused as Zoomed the blurred image.

As he says this, I pull my hand out from behind my back and I place the bag I had in my hand in front of him and I give him a look that says, ‘go ahead and open it. “What is this, Jo?” “You will have to open it to find out babe.” He carefully and skeptically pulls the bag closer to him and peers inside, but he can’t see anything with all the tissue paper covering it. So, he starts to pull the tissue paper out and then he reaches inside and pullout a shirt reading, “Future Alpha of Blue Ridge Pack” He looks between me, and the shirt and he give me a questioning look like he doesn’t fully understand why I gave him this shirt.

The hoodie, a shield against prying eyes, symbolized not only concealment but also the indomitable spirit of those who dared to challenge the oppressive rule. In the deepest part of the night, as the city held its breath, Maximus emerged from the shadows, standing at the precipice of a revolution. The black hoodie, now worn with a sense of purpose, marked the beginning of a chapter where one man's defiance would collide with the might of a tyrant's empire.

Expensive, expected, wrong. Instead I found mine. Cream sweaters folded exactly the way I fold them. Oversized hoodies. Worn-soft jeans. A pair of white sneakers identical to the ones I owned, down to the scuff on the left toe. My hands found a gray hoodie before my brain caught up. I lifted it without thinking, and that's when I saw it stitched into the inside collar in small silver thread. M.H. Maya Hart. I dropped it like it burned me. "No," I whispered, to no one. "No, no, no."

I've never been so pleased to hear his voice. Jayden materializes out of the dark hallway like a shadow. He's wearing a different outfit from the one he was wearing hours ago... a dark grey hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the same shorts. The band-aid is still stuck firmly to his jaw, giving him an incredibly menacing, rugged look under the red strobe lights. He doesn't just step into the conversation, he dominates the space between us. Brian blinks, his grip loosening on my wrist as he looks up at the campus hockey captain. Then he looks at me. "Wait... It's true? The rumours about you two?"

HJ, the underboss of America’s most ruthless mafia, wanted to play. And I couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across my face, because this side of him warmed something in me that had been cold for a very long time. “Pretty sure the thing that’s going to help me sleep at night is you getting me out of these zip ties.” I waved them in front of us. Towering over me, he crossed his arms in that black hoodie of his. “I don’t think I will.” “HJ!” I whined.