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boolger · 3 days ago

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Spøgelset i huset 🪞 CH.5

Poly!141+Nikolai x cursed!ghost!reader 🪞call of duty 🪞MDNI🪞 4.6k words🪞18+, explicit

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Tags: alternative universe, Johnny lives, poly!141+ Nikolai, ghost!reader, supernatural elements, murder, mirror portals, supernatural kept vague, curses, mention of cult, short mention of suicide, torture, mental health, ptsd, hearing loss, loss of limbs, wounds, flashbacks, disability, forced retirement, polyamory, smut, love, enemies to lovers, redoing a house, slight age gap (reader is mid 20s, Nikolai is 42ish, a cursed ghost, badly explained lore, original characters, Beatrice is back for a short moment, falling in love, rough sex, orgy, oral sex, penetrative sex, lowkey shade upon inpolite ghost hunters, hurt/comfort, angst/comfort, nightmares, stealing, spanking, crack elements, more will be added.

A/N: ❤️❤️

When the cult had sliced you open with their ceremonial daggers and forced the crystals into you, you had expected everything to end. To reach a conclusion, even if it was through a painful experience.

To die. Just like everyone else in the world, life was supposed to end, it was a right every single human had. A promise. A final punctuation to one’s story.

But your ending was taken, stolen from you by the cult members; a lot of them reached death themselves afterwards, avoiding the punishment. They escaped the world, reaching what you had been cheated from…

Death.

Despite what your trauma ridden mind had screamed at you, the man who wore the skeleton mask didn’t give you death either.

You had seen nothing but members of the cult when he had crawled up, the flashlight pointed directly at you. The man with the scythe had returned to taunt you once more it seemed.

Never would you be free of the cult, never would you see your teammates again, never would you be allowed to be free —

A voice had told you to put down the knife. To lay down your weapon. So that you could explain. You had already been killed once and back then, you had had no knife and no other possibility to save yourself.

Still, even if the men whose eyes all stared at you weren’t cult members, you weren’t going down without a fight.

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The cult members were there, right in front of you and you couldn’t help but snarl at them, even though you knew your knife would be no help against their long daggers; the daggers that would slice into your body, gut you like an animal, captured prey by the hunters.

Cornered, the mirror not somewhere to escape to.

You told the mountain of a man who was in front of you, not even wearing one of the outfits that the cult members usually did, to get out of his house, that he wasn’t welcome, that it was your house, that you—

He was on you faster than you had expected, then one of the others joined; you fought everything you could, pride rushing through you as you managed to hit someone in the face with your foot, screaming at the top of your lungs.

You didn’t want to die. Not again.

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Price watched you as you broke down.

Your eyes seemed glazed over, as if you like were not quite there; despite the amount of time that he had spent confused over your existence, he felt a pang of sadness at the sight of you.

Price had seen this in others before, in his own men and women throughout the years. Flashbacks to the traumatic moments that you’ve experienced through life attacking you, when stressed.

The dress seemed less scary now, your whole demeanour so different from what Johnny had described. It made sense really, a “ghost” turning out to be a human, would instantly become less dangerous to the mind.

Simon was quick, but you seemed feral for a few moments, almost managing to stab their lover. Johnny jumped up to help and they managed to get you under control, even if it cost Simon a bloody nose.

You were crying.

For a few moments, you looked much younger than Price assumed you to be; like a child, finally breaking down after too much stress, too much trauma, unable to help themselves. You were still attempting to get free, but they didn’t let you, pulling you through the hole they had cut, downstairs.

No matter the sympathy he felt, they had to figure out who the fuck you were.

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The zip ties dug slightly into your wrists, as well as your ankles that were pressed against one of your own dining room chairs.

“Sorry ‘bout the whole ‘kicking you in the face’-part,” you told him, though you weren’t really sure whether you genuinely regretted it or not - he had attempted to shoot you earlier after all, almost hitting your feet, “I panicked.”

Simon just let out a grunt as a reply and you decided to take that as an acceptance. He was slung across the couch like a tired big cat, cold and wet cloth pressed against his nose. The fabric was stained a little pink from the blood. It wasn’t broken, so yeah, you didn’t feel too bad about it… served him well.

Besides, it could have been worse if you had managed to stab him.

’I panicked’ was perhaps the wrong description - well, you had panicked, so that wasn’t a lie, but it was because your mind had recognised him as a cult member, even though he wasn’t. Trauma, flashbacks. You tried pushing the thoughts from you. They weren’t a part of the cult. You were safe… somewhat, at least.

It was weird to have them all looking at you like this. It was weird to be seen at all.

Actually seen by another human being. Touched. Even if it hadn’t exactly been a super pleasant experience to be slung over a shoulder and carried down here, screaming and fighting before you got tied up.

You definitely weren't touch starved. Nope. You were too cool to think about how their hands had been slightly dry - they needed to use a hand cream - gripping your body.

You appreciated the lack of ritualistic decoration however. No pentagram, candles or big robes. No crystals either, no attempt to hide their faces. Made it feel less dangerous to you.

Just five giant loafs of men, one seeming more confused than the other. Merely a kind of messy living room, not smelling of blood and bad memories, overhead lights on. In a way this felt like a bad scene in a direct to TV movie with a low budget.

A part of you couldn’t blame them for being sceptical… you had harassed them ever since they visited the house to view it, and now, wearing a homemade ‘scary girl’ costume, you didn’t exactly scream ‘trust me’.

“I’ll ask again,” the voice was dark as he stepped closer, bending slightly down so you were eye to eye, “who are you?”

You could see why John Price had been a Captain; he oozed dominance, the anger clear in his eyes, face cold. There was something hot about this situation but also something terrifying. Because what were they going to do? You didn’t exactly want any kind of active government to know about your existence- you weren’t stupid, you knew that would mean problems. Besides, the captain’s cane looked like it could leave some mean bruises. Hot. Not. A tiny bit. Focus.

“I’ve already told you,” you replied calmly, repeating your full name, adding “I’m the owner of this house. Technically you’re all the trespassers or squatters or whatever.”

“The former owner is dead,” Gaz stated in a matter of fact tone from behind Price, “so cut that bullshit.”

They really did sound different when like this… Workmode, you supposed. You remembered it slightly yourself even if it had been almost half a decade ago.

“I am not lying,” you argued, as you felt overwhelmingly frustrated with this fucking situation, leaning back in the chair a little, the zip ties digging into your skin, “I was killed five years ago, when —“

”— so ye are the insane one here,” Soap decided loudly from behind you, almost sounding pleased, before waltzing in front of you, playing with a knife, which you really didn’t want to get too close to you, “braw to ken.”

”Hey dickhead, you’re the easy one to scare!” You angrily snapped back at the Scot, “Why do you think I chose to haunt you?”

”Calm down—“ Price began, but none of you did.

”At least I’m nae a squatter!” Soap’s words made you snarl, frustration and anger boiling inside you.

”I’m cursed!” It sounded insane, you were very aware of that. But it had been your reality ever since you woke up, a reality you couldn’t escape no matter what you had tried. Like a never ending circle. Despite this, knowing it sounded insane, you saw red as Soap repeated the word.

”INSANE!”

“YOU SAW MY FUCKING FILE,” you screamed, unable to keep yourself from doing so, the frustration erupting, like boiling water in a pot that spilled over, though you managed to lower it a little bit as you continued, “I watched you all do it! You all know I'm dead, you saw my pictures! Explain why I'm here then?!”

“You could have faked it.” Nikolai replied, sitting down next to Simon on the couch, like a tired bear, “it's been done before, nyet?”

“Oh my god, you’re all so stupid.”

Ghost let out a dark chuckle at the comment, while Gaz continued, “You’re the one trying to fucking convince us tha—“

“Look at my stomach,” you finally said, letting out a tired sigh.

“What?” Price looked quite caught off guard, so did the others if you were honest and if you hadn't felt a tad vulnerable for what was about to happen, you would have enjoyed the sight.

“Pull up my dress!”

“Heh, we haven’t even wined and dined you yet, Dove,” Simon dryly commented from the couch. Asshole.

“Just shut up and do it!” It wasn’t that you really wanted them to see your wounds - not to mention your panties - but you had to make them consider this whole thing somehow.

It was Gaz who moved, taking a hold of the bottom hem of the white dress, not looking you in the eye, as he pulled it up, bunching the white fabric with red paint together in his hand. You tipped your hips up so it was a little easier and it finally slipped up, your stomach visible to him.

He froze. You doubted it was due to your panties. It was odd, because you had stared at the scars or wounds or whatever it could be defined as, ever since you woke up years ago. The crystals that grew from your body, which you assumed was a part of the curse, had been there every day. They continued to itch and break once in a while, leaving small crystals and dust everywhere. Once in a while, you had left them out in the sun and waited for the daylight to hit them, just so you could watch how they sparkled. It was a kind of disturbing sight as they were technically a part of you, you knew that deep inside, but it had been your own disturbing sight. A dark, beautiful sight.

Your own scary burden to carry, your own scar to remind you of what happened. It proved what you had said, even if you wanted to hide it again.

“What the fuck is this?” Gaz finally asked. You weren’t really sure how to explain it to him, hadn’t thought that far. Besides, two seconds later, the rest of the men were pressed against each other, five faces looking at your semi exposed body.

”Huh.”

“Told you. I’m cursed.”

“Does it hurt?” John asked and you let out a little hum before you replied,

“Well, in a way I suppose - they mostly just itch, because the crystal gro— FUCK!”

Simon pulled his hand back a little from where he had more or less stuck his hand into your wound, a tiny whimper leaving you and you struggled a bit in the chair.

“It’s sensitive, you twat,” you hissed, “can you all cut me free?”

“No.” “Da.”

John and Nikolai looked at each other while Simon reached forward to touch you again. It seemed like they had a wordless discussion but you were too distracted by the skeleton man.

“I just told you - stop that!”

“Do you glue them in?” Simon asked curiously, Gaz squatted down to also look at your wound and you had to focus on keeping calm.

“No,” you really tried to not sound too mean, especially since you wanted to be free of the zip ties, but you wanted to slap them at the side of their head, “how am I supposed to get a bunch of crystals out here?”

“Why crystals?” Johnny asked, “is that nae an odd thing tae be cursed with?”

You pursed your lips. Rude. It wasn’t like you decided it had to be those.

“You saw the file - I don’t know how much you read about the murder part but…”

“Crystals forced into your body, da?” Nikolai’s voice was calm but the words still made you cringe, toes curling at the memory of it. The confusion when you had seen the cult members holding them, the horror that had gone through you when you realised what they were going to do. You nodded.

“Jesus Christ.” Gaz stood up from in front of you.

You felt dirty for a moment; as dirty as one could be, with crystals growing from your body. It was better than something like dirt or rocks, but when your memories flashed by, it didn’t matter what it was. The crystals forced into your wound, your limbs bound so you were unable to stop them. Into your mouth, your nostrils, your ears, your eyes, every wound, your as—

“Ye gotta breathe, Ghoulie,” you blinked a couple of times, looking up at Johnny, taking a small breath as he told you, “I like yer panties by the way.”

You snorted, but it distracted you from your thoughts. Ghoulie. Horrible nickname, though you supposed it was better than ‘squatter’. You managed a couple of breaths more before you mumbled a small “pervert.”

“Aye, always.”

“Behave, Johnny,” Price chastised. The captain looked at you for a moment, clearly unsure of what to say for a moment, “are you going to run away if we cut you free?”

You shook your head.

“Don’t have anywhere to run.” Because, well, that was the truth. The only place you could go, currently had a giant man sized hole in the floor and pieces of the mirror everywhere.

“Do you have more food?” You asked instead. Price raised an eyebrow.

“…We do.” He finally confirmed, which you already knew was the answer.

“If you make me food, I’ll answer more questions.”

For a moment, the two of you just kept eye contact. You weren’t really sure why, whether it was a dick measuring contest or if he was trying to see if you had ulterior motives.

Finally he gave a little nod and Johnny rose from next to you, the knife he had played with cut through the zip ties. Whether he decided you weren’t going to bolt or that he simply didn’t find you scary, you didn’t know.

It felt like you were able to breathe a little better, though you were pretending not to be turned on, the second that Johnny was on his knees in front of you - the asshole even winked up at you.

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”Jesus bloody Christ - you’re gonna choke!” Price snatched the fork with a piece of pancake on from your hand, a whine leaving you, the sound almost muted fully by the mountain of pancake inside your mouth.

”Did your parents not teach you manners, dorogúsha?” Nikolai asked teasingly and you just sent him a stare while chewing, before easily snatching back your fork, swallowing the piece, licking a bit of syrup from your tongue. Fuuuuuck, maybe you had died and gotten into heaven because these pancakes that they had reheated in the microwave tasted like paradise.

”Haven’t really eaten anythin’ proper homemade for several years,” you pointed out, stabbing another piece of the pancake on the plate, shrugging as you ate another big piece.

”Have ye not grown lonely, lass?” Soap’s question was genuine - it caught you completely off guard, making you stop chewing, to look over at him for a second. For a moment you wondered how honest to be - if you should just tell the truth and admit that yes, half a decade spent mostly alone, did create a deep seated loneliness inside you. You swallowed after a moment, before shaking your head in denial.

”Nope,” you answered, looking down at the plate again, stabbing another piece of pancake, “I like my alone time. Do you have any bacon left?”

“Liar,” Simon called you out from further down the dining room table, and you rolled your eyes, hoping that it would come off as dismissive, but truly, you hated that he somehow knew.

”Asshole,” you answered, before pointing at him with the fork, “you don’t get to say anything, mister skeleton, you tried to shoot me.”

Simon just smiled, chuckling darkly, as if it was a joke.

”Do not worry, little ghoul,” Nikolai said as he got up from his chair, giving your head a pat as he passed you, “I will make you some bacon.”

You knew you beamed, unable to keep yourself from smiling, “Thank you, Nikolai!”

“I don’t believe this whole ’I’ll turn into a ghost when the sun comes up’,” Gaz finally stated, arms crossed, as if he had been thinking the entire thing through ever since seeing your wounds, “I’ll give you, your wounds looks weird, but you’re not a ghost.”

A part of you were annoyed at his comment and the other part of you couldn’t really judge him.

You shrugged, eating another piece of the pancake. He looked upset. You weren’t really sure what to say or tell him. You just chewed, thinking about possibilities of showing him

”Okay,” you finally replied after you swallowed, “I’ll show you when the sun gets up.”

He huffed. You listened to the sound of the bacon sizzling on the pan. Your eyes flickered to Nikolai. It was in the middle of the night, yet here they were, making you pancakes and bacon. Sure, after interrogating you, but still, a win is a win.

“Was it ye who wrote all tha threats on the walls?” Soap asked. Oh. Right, your threats.

You snickered before you licked some syrup from your lips, “ yup, they didn’t really work though.”

In fact , none of them has seemed to take them seriously.

"Were you actually going to cut off our toes?” Price asked, sitting down with a small groan, resting his hand on the cane next to him. You shook your head.

”Nah, too bloody, innit? I was just hoping it would scare you off, same with the door slamming and so on.”

“It didn’t work,” Kyle repeated. You huffed.

”Nope,” a thought hit you and you tipped your head to the side, watching him for a moment, hoping you could prove that you weren’t just insane - and the second that the thought hit you, you grinned, “ever thought about how I moved around so quickly, Garrick?”

Kyle scrunched his nose. Clearly not pleased with the fact that you knew his name, but he had to get used to it.

”Yup,” it was Johnny who replied, “How did ye disappear from the bathroom that first night? Ye cannae fit through the window.”

”Are you calling me fat?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

”Nyet,” Nikolai said, putting down a new plate with eggs and bacon in front of you, a pleased sound leaving you, “we are callin’ you soft. Beautiful. Maybe a bit fat, yes, but that is not bad thing. We like fat women.”

You remained calm, squinted up at Nikolai for a moment - it looked like he meant it. Then you grabbed a piece of bacon with your fingers, ignoring the slight burn on your fingers, “Thought y’all were full on gay.”

Johnny sputtered, going all red in his face, while Nikolai and Price laughed.

“We are not,” Nikolai tugged your ear, before he sat down next to you.

”Could ‘ave tricked me,” you answered honestly, “With all them pictures of each other and sextoys, you lot have layin’ arou—“

”Did you go through our things?” Simon asked accusatorily, watching you with a cold gaze. You tipped your head to the side, chewing on the piece of bacon. You savoured the taste. It was better than the cheap kind you have eaten once in a while, the fat, salty taste almost making you want to moan.

“Of course I did,” you felt no shame in it really, “wouldn’t you have, if a bunch of strangers moved into your house?”

Simon didn’t answer. Point made. They had put all their stuff in your house, were you supposed to respect their privacy when they didn’t respect yours?

”Back tae yer disappearing act —“ Johnny changed the subject again, “how did ye do et?”

”Mm, mirrors,” you admitted, “I can show you.”

”�� mirrors?” John repeated sceptically and you nodded.

”If you get a mirror from the hallway and place it next to the one in the corner there,” you pointed at the mirror in the corner of the dining room, “I can show you.”

Simon got up with a grunt, mumbling out something about ‘psychotic woman’ and ‘want to sleep’. He returned a moment later with the full body mirror from the hallway, placing it against the wall, a bit from the other mirror.

”Impress us then,” mused Nikolai. You huffed, grabbing another piece of bacon, pushing the chair back before you walked to one of the mirrors.

It was a bit odd to show people this. It had been your own secret for so many years.

You didn’t even need to look at them, to know that they were staring as you stepped to the mirror and then inside it, walking into the other mirror; the tingling feeling barely noticed anymore, the action familiar and well known.

As you stepped onto the floor again, though from the mirror, you saw the end of yourself disappear into the other mirror.

For a moment you didn’t know what to do, none of the men said anything and you refused to look at them. Technically, you could escape to another room right now, but they would inevitably catch you at some point. You turned, stepped into the mirror again and walked out from the mirror that Simon had collected from the hallway. Finally you looked up.

They were all just… staring.

”What the actual fuck.” Kyle was the first to speak and it felt as if it had been several minutes before he did so, though it was probably a couple of seconds.

“Well uh - that’s how I did it,” you responded, unsure of what else to say.

Simon instantly passed you, Price a second later, both of them moving to touch the mirrors. You heard the tapping sound of them poking around and touching the mirrors, while you hurried back to the bacon on the table, taking a bite of a piece.

You watched them look at the mirrors, pressing their hands against them, knocking on it, turning them around. You understood their need for an explanation, you had searched for that at first, but your whole current existence was inexplicable.

Then, as if something changed with the flicker of a shift, Nikolai began to laugh. Big belly laugh that even made you look at him with confusion - though you were too busy eating more of the bacon to ask.

Your eyes flickered around, noticing Kyle staring at you - you merely stared back, chewing loudly, enjoying the forbidden taste of freshly made food. Maybe you could make them cook something for you? Or buy something for you? You had missed sushi, they definitely needed to go get you sushi - or pizza, you hadn’t gotten any proper greasy pizza for a while. Though, Kyle looked like he drank protein shakes and swallowed raw eggs,you could be wrong. Maybe he would order you something. After pushing another piece of bacon into your mouth, you looked back at Nikolai, who was drying a tear from his eye now.

“What's so funny?” You finally asked, still chewing on the bacon, while Nikolai patted your shoulder as he passed you.

”I used to think my grandmother had gone mad, when she spoke of demons,” his voice was amused, as if remembering those memories fondly, “and then I thought we had lost it, when you began to haunt us - but no! It’s just you - a tiny, pathetic cursed being!”

”Hey hey“ —you swallowed the bacon, furrowing your brows — “Don’t call me that! Besides, you were all crazy in the heads before I began to annoy you.”

“How so, hen? Also, I dinnae feel like this explains anythin’ at all.”

“Well you did buy this place.”

Nikolai snickered.

“From breakdown-Benny even - he could barely stand without shaking.”

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