#x-exo

His flaming red hair makes you think of fire and you'd prefer if that was his element. You'd prefer burn marks and smoke and scars over this torment. You can barely keep yourself standing, your knees are giving up under you but Suhø is holding you up in his strong embrace that brings you no comfort.

"Shhh, little one," he coos, purring into your hair, though you can't hear the sound over your sobs as the water creeps close. By now it's splashing over your feet and there's nowhere to run but he catches you when you jump and holds you up. He even urges you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You know what's coming and you hate him. You hate him for kidnapping you. You hate him for putting you through this. You hate his powers, you hate water. And you hate him for being so gentle otherwise. You hate that the heat and firmness of his body grounds you and makes your mind anchor to something. 

He doesn't flinch, doesn't retaliate no matter how much you hurt him in your fright. If anything, the claw marks you’re sure to leave all over his back and shoulders he’ll wear like a badge of honor. He rubs your back and reassures you time and time again that you're safe with him, that there's nothing to be afraid of. Like he's not the one terrorizing you. And yet you trust him. Yet you cling to him and lean into his touch and you trust him. Only in this moment, just for however long he's gonna indulge in your horror, you do trust him.

You shut your eyes but you can hear the water moving. You can hear your breaths echo in your prison as the water completely envelops you, leaving just enough of a bubble where you can breathe without getting soaked. Suhø’s still softly whispering promises and reassurances into your ear but straining your hearing for any change in the water surrounding you, you can’t hear them. Your blood turns into ice. You hold your breath so you don’t run out of oxygen. He notices too soon.

“That won’t do,” he chides, voice still gentle, a warning before he gets mad, “You need to breathe, hm? Follow me.”

You do. He’s the only thing in the world that can get through to your mind when your phobia takes hold of your mind and body. And it’d be so romantic if only it wasn’t like this, if only it wasn’t the work of your survival instinct. So you match your breathing with his, you can feel his heart beating in time with yours and it makes your nausea even worse.

“That’s good, so good for me,” he praises you, one of his hands now stroking your hair. You hear the water moving and you cling to him tighter before he reassures you the walls moved away. You risk a peek. He didn’t lie. He never does.

You panic again when he starts moving but then you feel the ground beneath your feet and realize he’s only sat down. He holds you in his laps, humming some melody that he always hums when he wants to soothe you. It won’t help this time, this is crossing the line of what you can handle too far.

“Suho…” you sob. You tangle your fingers into his hair, your thighs burn from strain as you desperately wrap yourself around him. He’s beaming, a deeply satisfied rumble vibrating in his chest. 

“Nothing will hurt you when you’re with me,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against the pulse point on your neck. Then he plants a gentle kiss there. “It’s just to keep the world away from us. Just a little bit, then we can do whatever you want.”

It’s so frustrating you want to scream, but you can’t - so you just cry. Hard. 

He knows all you’ll want to do - all that you’ll have the mental capacity and strength to do, really - is to sleep. With him holding you, singing you to restless sleep. And he’ll be so happy, just like he’s now. You can feel how ecstatic he is to have you holding onto him like he’s your lifeline. You know he thrives off your fear.