Smut And Fluff Of All Fandoms 😁

👦🏻❤️Jacksepticeye❤️👦🏻

You fucking hated flying.

And it wasn't even, like, for a logical reason. Anxiety about crashing? No. Claustrophobia? Nuh-uh. No, it couldn't be a reason that made sense, of course it couldn't.

It was because you hated being close to strangers. Of fucking course.

This would've been less annoying if it weren't for the fact that you were near a panic attack every time someone sat down next to you. You'd shuffle up as far away as you could, and you absolutely HAD to have a window seat. Like, no matter what. If you were in the aisle, you could see all the people near you. If you had a middle seat, you were surrounded and that would be horrible. So a window seat, where you could stare out into the clouds and forget your surroundings, was much better.

And you had a window seat, lucky you! But you weren't in the air just yet. The flight to Seattle would be at least a few hours, so you needed to bare it the best you could. Prepared with books, pirated movies and earphones, you settled back into your seat and kept your gaze on the window, staring at the concrete floor as people boarded.

And then you heard shuffling next to you, and your breath hitched.

Don't look don't look don't look don't look don't look-

You kept your mental panic in one place and focused your gaze even harder on the window, your hands clenching the armrest. Unconsciously, you began to tap your foot and bite your lip, trying to focus on something other than the growing awareness that someone was next to you. They had settled down, and your heart was still racing. Adrenaline was pumping through you at the exact wrong time.

"You hate flights too, huh?"

A soft Irish accent pulled you from your panic. It took you a few moments to register that the voice was next to you, and it was indeed talking to you. And it sounded familiar as fuck. Without wanting to, you turned your head in the voice's direction.

"Are you talking to me-"

Your breath cut off.

Oh shit.

Of all possible outcomes, it had to be this, huh? You were sat on a plane, in the window seat, heading to Seattle for PAX West.

And Jack-fucking-SepticEye was sat next to you.

He seemed to notice your sudden lack of air and chuckled, nodding.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you."

After a few seconds of not knowing what to say - I mean, who really knows how to react when they're sat next to one of their idols on a very long flight? - you managed to sputter out a sentence.

"I flights hate, yes."

He laughed again as you cringed at your own ineptitude with speaking. Oof, this just wasn't going too well. Jack leaned back in his chair.

You watched him. "How could you tell?"

He turned his head to you curiously, and then his gaze shifted downwards. You followed it and looked at your hand, which was still furiously clinging to the armrest. With a blush, you pulled your hand off and rubbed it.

"Oh, right."

Jack chuckled. "Hey, it's alright. I hate flying too. Got a fuckin' awful fear o' heights."

You managed to smile. "Ah, yeah, me too."

I mean, that was a good cover. Right?

He raised an eyebrow. "So you... bought a window seat?"

Shit, nevermind.

You blushed again and tried to come up with another cover, but he'd already cracked that you were lying. You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck.