Tumgik
#siren!ghost arc is just scary monster to Creachur™️
ghcstao3 · 18 days
Text
part 3 of siren/sailor ghoap hehehehe (part 2 🧜‍♂️)
-
Despite his gripes and discomfort, Soap does eventually drift to sleep before his chest begins to feel too tight, his breaths too short.
Then he’s rudely awoken by a large splash, drenching him even more so than he already was. He sits up in a flash, already glaring daggers at the water before he can make out the silhouette of Ghost’s head.
Soap curses under his breath, wiping excess water from his face and slicking his hair back from where it sticks to his forehead.
“I found somewhere,” Ghost announces.
At least Soap could appreciate his bluntness.
“Did you?” Soap grumbles. He’s found his fear of Ghost has diminished significantly, instead replaced with irritation. He figures it’s the cold and wet having finally seeped past his skin and into his bones. “And how do you suppose I’m getting there?”
“I’ll take you,” Ghost says, as if it weren’t obvious. “Come closer.”
Soap’s heartbeat ticks up in pace. He slowly tucks his outstretched legs closer to his body, though he’s still too far for Ghost to reach. Soap shakes his head. “You are going to eat me, aren’t you?”
“No.”
Soap sniffles. “I don’t believe you.”
Ghost huffs. Soap can sense the eye roll, whether or not the siren actually does so.
“Come on,” Ghost coaxes. There’s a slightly singsong, melodic quality, even for such two little words, but it’s enough to give a single tug on Soap’s heart the same way Ghost’s singing had in the rowboat.
“Cheater,” Soap scoffs, yet he still finds himself slowly unfurling his limbs.
Ghost hums to the same effect, even so daring as to swim right up to where the stone meets the water, folding his arms over the edge—all a mirror for the way he lured Soap in the first time.
But this time—this time, though still menacing in the way that it’s all his nature allows, Ghost is… teasing.
So, with a sigh and nothing better to do, nowhere to go, and already waiting for death, Soap relents. He crawls forward toward the water, mindful of the sharp angles of the cave’s formation, his palms surely to be scraped up anyway, if only from the commotion that had led him up until this point.
He creeps forward until he’s about a foot away from the siren. Squinting into the dark, Soap can almost make out those damp, blond curls. He doesn’t much like the glint in Ghost’s dark eyes, however.
“I said come closer,” Ghost insists.
“I am closer,” Soap argues.
Ghost beckons him even still. It isn’t until Soap is reluctantly face-to-face with the siren that Ghost appears satisfied.
Then Ghost is pushing himself out of the water, inching impossibly closer and closer, until—
Until he’s kissing Soap?
Soap gives a startled yelp, unable to pull away before webbed hands have latched onto the sides of his face. The siren persists even when Soap isn’t really kissing back—though Soap doesn’t realize he’s being pulled into the water until he feels a shock of cold on his face.
But again Ghost won’t let go, his lips still firmly pressed to Soap’s. Soap panics, trying to pull back but finding it impossible once he’s been dragged completely into the depths. He thrashes in the water, but Ghost remains entirely undeterred, his hold on Soap ironclad.
Then… then Soap realizes—his chest never constricts, his lungs never fill with water. Despite the rapid pace of his heart beating in his ears, it’s almost like… it’s almost like he can breathe.
His realization must be evident, as that’s when Ghost finally pulls away, that sharp grin appearing on his face. He lets go of Soap’s face and instead seizes his wrist before he’s propelling them through the water with his powerful tail.
It’s much different, being towed along while conscious. When light finally streams back into Soap’s vision, he finds himself entranced by the colourful fish they pass, the seaweed and the reefs, almost entirely forgetting the creature attached to him in his passing amazement.
Almost.
Every so often the scales or fins of Ghost’s tail will brush against Soap, and every so often he’ll be snapped back to his reality—abandoned by civilization, held captive by a sea creature who insists Soap isn’t food, but does so with a mouth full of sharp teeth.
Eventually, though, when Soap finally catches a glimpse of the sun, relief floods him. He gets to see daylight again, feel the warmth on his skin, and that thought alone is enough to calm him if only for a moment.
When they arrive to shallow water, Ghost suddenly stops swimming. Soap looks to him, confused, then glances down and realizes he could touch sand from where they float—it’d be too difficult for Ghost to continue.
The siren’s hold releases and Soap finally breaks the ocean’s surface, drinking in a mouthful of fresh air as if he hadn’t been able to within the water with whatever magic that kiss had held. He climbs to his feet, the water still up to his chest, and begins to wade onward to where Ghost has brought him—a small island, lush with trees but with a beach where Soap could dry in the sun, abandoned and isolated from everything.
While it may be far from any other person, at least here Soap wouldn’t have to worry about suffocating or starving for at least a little while longer as he perhaps devised a plan for his rescue.
He glances back at Ghost as he makes his way to the island, the siren never moving from where he peers out of the water, watching Soap. Every time Soap glances back, he never shifts.
When Soap is finally clambering onto dry sand, however, Ghost is gone.
Soap doesn’t suppose that the distant pang in his heart, his soul is disappointment. Why would it be? Why should it be?
Yet as his skin and hair and clothes slowly dry, Soap finds himself constantly looking back out at the ocean, at that spot, wondering if he’d ever catch another glimpse of the siren who ultimately had, as promised, not eaten him.
203 notes · View notes