#firefighter jungkook

[diminie-s-tokki]

The danger in loving you

[jeonstudios]

dear stranger

lucky you, getting stuck in an elevator, your worst nightmare come to life. lucky you, getting stuck with a stranger.

24, between strangers with jk, cuddle prompt requested by anon.

pairing: ex-firefighter!jk x reader

genre: fluff.

word count: 3k 

warnings: reader has an intense fear of elevators and is very panicky. it’s a traumatic experience for her. also firefighter jk deserves its own warning lmao

masterlist

© dear stranger is copyright jeonstudios 2020. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

author’s note: so this was supposed to be a drabble... lmao i have a problem. also i know i always say that it’s shit, but believe me, this time it really is. i have read through this one (1) time and we all know by now that i’m illiterate so don’t come for me. (maybe i’ll go back and edit or maybe i’ll forget all about it lol)

When you were younger, elevators scared the living shit out of you. You remember watching... a movie? An episode of some show? It doesn't really matter because it's not something you ever want to see again. 

It traumatized the young you, to see a bunch of people get trapped inside an elevator between floors, and when they get the doors open and climb out, whatever keeps the elevator up snaps, and a woman is cut in half on her way through the doors. You were maybe five years old, so someone was definitely lacking in the parental guidance, and in the following years, you avoided the death machines as much as you could.

During your teenage years, however, you started to forget about that fear of elevators. After all, nothing had ever happened those times when traveling in one had been the only option, and you'd also learned more about how they work and how tiny the risk of dying in one actually is.

That's why you enter the building where your job interview will take place and head straight towards the metal doors. All kinds of people are walking past you, some formally dressed, others not. While you wait, you can't help but tap your fingers against your thigh to relieve some of the nerves that have accumulated. You're smart, well-dressed, in a dark pantsuit that screams business casual—even though you left the blazer in your car—and more than qualified for the job. You should have no problem getting hired.

The elevator arrives, and you enter it, fingers pushing the button with a glowing eight on it, but right before the doors can shut and begin to carry you up, someone else steps inside. It's a young, brown-haired man, slightly out of breath, that's pressing the button for floor seven in front of you and then meeting your eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbles, and after you flash him a small smile, letting him know it's alright, he turns around so that he's standing beside you. It's a shame because now you're unable to check him out discreetly. As the elevator starts its journey, you admire him in your head.

He's tall and very fit, the loose black pants and the over-sized black hoodie he wears do a surprisingly good job at showing off his figure. The way the black fabric hangs of his shoulders exposed his back muscles to you when he pushed that button, and the sleeves that are rolled up to his elbows revealed one tattooed arm. Unfortunately, it all happened too fast for you to be able to discern any specific design inked into his skin. Tattoos aside, what really caught your attention was the round, bashful eyes that contradicted so intensely with the slightly flared nostrils and sharp, sharp jaw.

You can still hear him breathing beside you, and you're positive he's in a hurry and that it's the reason he's out of breath. You're convinced it's nothing more than a brief meeting between two strangers, two paths crossing for the first and final time before the elevator reaches his floor, and he leaves. Those meetings happen every day, and you don't expect this to be anything different. Why would it?

Except, the elevator doesn't make it to floor seven. The little screen above the doors displays a red six when everything slows down. First, you assume that you're about to stop to let another passenger aboard, but when it jolts, you feel your heartbeat quicken. There's a loud booming sound, and then everything goes quiet and still.

Fuck.

In an instant, your forgotten phobia returns, and you turn to the man next to you, eyes wide in shock and fear. His eyebrows are drawn together, but he doesn't seem scared when he approaches the buttons after a few, very slow, seconds.

"Uh..." You watch him press a few of them, both for floors and doors, and when nothing happens, he turns to you.

"I guess we're stuck," he utters.

"Th—the has to be an al—alarm button, right?" Your stuttering voice shifts his focus back to the panel as he searches for it.

Inside your head, the thoughts are running wild. You remember reading lists of what to do in case you ever found yourself in this exact scenario, but you can only recall the first three things. 

One, stay calm. You've remained surprisingly cool, but the way your heart's beating and your hands are starting to sweat is not a good sign.

Two, find a light source. That tip doesn't even concern you because the power isn't out.

Three, press the door button, and if that doesn't work, try the floor below. Your companion's already done that, and neither worked. 

He must've found the alarm button because he presses a tattooed finger to one, and shortly after, a beeping tone sounds. It's loud, and you wonder if people can hear it from the outside and if someone is going to instruct you through the tiny speaker next to all the buttons? God, you hope so.

But your hope is in vain because all there is is the short beeping sounds, no voice to reassure you that you're about to be saved. The brown-haired man still doesn't look scared, just frustrated.

"Ah, come on," he groans, eyes fixed to the little speaker holes in the metal panel. It's merely an inconvenience for him, not the end of the world like it feels for you. You realize that his brave demeanor must be the reason for your relative calm, and for that, you're grateful.  

However, that calm disappears when the light above your heads starts to flicker and then goes out completely. Not only is the light gone, so is the beeping. You're definitely screwed now.

Slowly but surely, you feel your sanity slipping; you feel the fear you've been trying so hard to repress, replace it. It reminds you that you're trapped inside a metal cage high above the ground, and the only thing suspending it is a bunch of cables. From your research, you know that the wires are insanely strong and that there are, like, ten different backup systems that prevent the car from plummeting, but your mind can only focus on those irrational fears. The lists, the research, the logic... everything's vanished.

You don't dare move an inch. You might as well be in an action movie, feet placed on glass that's breaking, the tiniest movement threatening to cause your free fall towards your death.

The darkness is blinding, making you panic even more and even forget about the other presence in there. You don't even notice that you've begun hyperventilating and that silent tears are running down your cheeks until a voice catches your attention.

"You alright?"

It's soft, and you can tell that he's worried. You gulp, trying desperately to collect yourself. 

"No, i used to have a phobia of elevators and this exact thing, and now it's back, and we're going to die," you ramble, voice shaky. "The cables are gonna snap, and—and—"

"Hey, it's okay. We're perfectly safe in here. They got the alarm, and someone's on their way here right now," he assures gently.

Despite his kind efforts, you're still just as scared. The voice sounds soothing, but something about not being able to see him makes it feel distant like he's not even there with you, and that in reality, you're alone.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" He must've realized that it will require more than just a few words for you to calm down. You almost chuckle nervously at his question before you really consider the offer. Maybe it's not the worst idea. "I'm holding it out for you, so take it if you want to."

Sniffling, and with shallow, shaky breaths, you tentatively reach your own hand out towards where you heard his voice come from. At first, you're blindly grabbing at the air, but soon enough, the back of your hand bumps into his, and he's quick to take hold of it. 

When enveloped in his big, steady one, you realize how much yours is trembling, and surely, he notices too because he begins to stroke his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand. It feels a tiny bit better when you can feel him, feel that you're not alone and that you can rely on him, so without thinking, you reach your other hand out to hold onto his wrist.

You're not exactly sure how it happens, but every small movement leads to another; his other hand lands on your forearm, causing you to take a short, cautious step closer and run your hand higher on his arm. He's warm and solid, the stability your poor heart needs. You can't help but feel drawn towards him. Yeah, the situation is terrifying and certainly not an everyday type, you know those can force people together, but you're still stunned by the man's kindness. You're just a stranger, after all.

You don't really talk; the only sounds in the elevator are your sniffles and the occasional, "it's alright," from the man. Although it feels like you've been stuck in there forever, it can't have been more than ten minutes. 

What would you have done without him? Probably lost all ability to think and just hyperventilated until you passed out. The thought of it, of being all alone in the darkness, results in fresh tears that fall from your eyes. Noticing it, the comforting hand travels from your forearm, up towards your shoulder, and from there to your back, where it rubs softly. Up and down, up and down. You've slowly inched closer to each other, and it's the last push needed for you to let go of his hands and move both your arms around his waist in a hug.

If he's caught off guard or opposed to it, he doesn't voice it. No, he wraps his arms around you as you press your cheek to his chest.

"No one's coming," you cry, distraught.

"They're on their way, I promise," he assures again, stroking your back. "I can call the police just to be sure, alright?"

"Yeah," you sniffle. Maybe you should've done that earlier, wasn't it part of the list?

You can feel him move as he fishes for his phone. The screen temporarily lights up the cold walls, and you get a weak glimpse of yourself in the mirror that takes up one of them. It's too dark to discern details, except for the man's face as he uses one hand to tap the screen in front of it. The blue-toned light colors his skin and reflects in his eyes, and you're momentarily distracted by how handsome he is.

When he brings the phone to his ear, the light goes out again, but you're starting to calm down. It's his heartbeat, you think. You can hear it thumping steadily in his chest, a rhythm for you to focus on. Maybe it's also his voice that calmly explains the situation to the operator on the other side, how he manages to talk clearly and even ask them to hurry because you're scared, all without sounding afraid himself.

His name is Jeongguk, you find out from overhearing him introduce himself. It fits him.

"Jeongguk," you mumble after he's hung up.

"Yeah?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Pretty," he comments, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He must've noticed your calmer state, and maybe he's doing his best to distract you and lift your spirits.

"Thank you," you say. "For being here—I mean, it's not like you have a choice, I just mean, like being here for me... I don't know what I would've done without you. I can't believe you're not scared."

Jeongguk hums from above you, "Don't mention it. And I used to work with things like this, so I'm pretty used to taking care of scared and shocked people."

It confuses you. Somehow you can't think of a single job that fits that description.

"What kinda work?"

"Firefighter. But I got injured, so I had to quit."

"Is that why you're not afraid? Did you save people from elevators yourself?"

"Yeah, a few times. I know a lot about how they work, like, mechanically."

"That's cool," you comment, and although you sound like you're not as scared anymore, you're still hugging Jeongguk as if your life depends on it. "I'm sorry for being such a wimp. You must think I'm ridiculous."

He chuckles lightly, swaying a little with you pressed to his chest.

"No, we all have different things that scare us."

"What are you scared of then?"

"Hmm, I'm not a huge fan of water. The depths and all the creepy creatures that lurk there..." A violent shiver wrecks his body at the thought, and you're endeared by the sweet stranger and how he tries to make you feel better. He's swaying slightly, hands moving over your upper arms and back.

Until he stops.

You can feel him leaning away from you, your heart rate spiking at the thought of having to let go of him.

"You're so cold," he mumbles, sounding like it's more to himself than you, and then he starts to pry your arms away.

"No," you protest worriedly. 

"It's okay, I'm still here. Just gonna take off my hoodie."

Considering the circumstances, you're not even ashamed of how you keep your hands on his body while he takes a step back to remove his hoodie. One hand is on his waist, the other moves to his stomach the second it's no longer covered by the thick, black fabric.

It's not like your intention is to feel him up; you're only doing it because you feel such an intense need to hold onto him. It's like he'll disappear if you let him go. But it doesn't change the fact that you can feel all the hard muscles underneath his clothes, his slim waist, and sculpted abs. They're even more prominent when all that's separating his skin from yours is what feels like a t-shirt.

"Here, put this on."

Something warm and soft hangs over your head. The hoodie. Normally, you'd feel bad for accepting it when he's left in something much thinner, but you didn't even realize how much you're freezing. Jeongguk helps you put it on, head going through one hole and arms through the others until it's correctly worn. Well, as good as it can be, the sleeves are too long, and you feel like you're drowning in it. But you don't mind, it's transferring its previous wearer's body heat to you, and you find that it smells like him too. Not that you need the scent because as soon as you're able to, your arms return to his waist and your cheek to his chest. 

"Maybe we should sit down? Get more comfortable?"

You know what he means even though he avoids saying it out loud; it might still take a while until someone comes to your aid.

"Okay," you agree, allowing him to guide you onto the floor. Even though it's dark, both of your phones' flashlights completely forgotten—or maybe Jeongguk simply knows that you're supposed to save the battery, a fact you also know but don't remember at all—you make it to a sitting position smoothly. 

When you're sitting next to him, your backs pressed against the wall, it's challenging to hug him like before, so you just have to settle for hugging his arm to your chest. It's bare, and you soon find that his tattoos reach all the way to his shoulder—some of them have left faint scars that your fingers trace curiously.

To pass the time, and also because you find him intriguing, you ask about his injury, what it was that forced him to change his career path, and his adventures as a firefighter. You won't lie and say that you didn't find him hot when he first stepped inside the elevator, and of course, knowing his profession—or at least previous profession—only increases his appeal tenfold. But all that is overshadowed by how kind and sweet he is, wholeheartedly attempting to distract you and even allowing you to cling to him like you are.

Jeongguk answers your questions, happily explaining different situations he's been in and how he ended up tearing a muscle. Or tendon? You can't remember because you're dozing off. You've been under such intense stress, and as you're finally calming down for real, the adrenaline wearing off, you're left exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open.

It must've been around an hour since the elevator faulted when you eventually fall asleep, head leaning on Jeongguk's shoulder, and his arm clutched to your chest.

Not long after that, the doors are pried apart, and you're awoken by voices. You're still sleepy, and perhaps that's the reason why you let Jeongguk lift you up towards another man that helps you through the opening. If you were fully conscious, you would've panicked because that's the exact moment the woman from the movie was cut in half.

Medical people are there, and you hear them worry about you, talking among themselves as they wrap you in blankets. You go with them, not expecting to lose your real savior in the small crowd. But somehow, he slips away.

It's only when you're outside, sitting at the back of the ambulance with an EMT that you notice that he's gone. It's not like you're injured or anything, but maybe you were in shock. After all, it was a very traumatizing experience for you, and you're confident that you'll never ever go anywhere near an elevator again. Your fingers toy with the hem of the hoodie you're still wearing when you notice something written on the skin of your wrist.

A phone number. 

"Call me if you want."