The Nockfell Complex (Sal fisher + 2 others x reader)

The Nockfell Complex

2007,

Oh the beautiful era of upbeat, secretly indecent music. The type of metaphors children wouldn’t put together for another decade at the least. The internet was still a baby, with music videos being shared worldwide on a platform you’d quickly grown to adore; Youtube. It was new and shiny. Your father may have called the personalities of improv a ridiculous waste of time and made you promise to never end up like those people, but you loved it.

And with the new era of the internet and new music, came the era of clean-up, and the subsequent ending to the cleanup of the city of Nockfell. A restoration project was set up shortly after the execution of a death-row inmate back in 2004 and the subsequent destruction of the major landmarks of Nockfell.
The Phelps monastery had been left in a state of disrepair and had to be rebuilt from the ground up. You watched for months, during the period of house-hunting, while construction workers draped in reflective wear went in and out of building foundations and setting up pillars. They raised the church to a state better than before.

Your father had been eagerly waiting for the rebuilding of the previously named Addison apartments. Nockfell had been empty for nearly a decade, following a string of mass murders on one evening in 97’. You didn’t know the story. Some guy snapped, according to news sources. Those stories never piqued your interest. What caught you were the ghost stories. The stories about how Nockfell was notorious for its’ ghost population. You weren’t positive that they were actually true, but there was a sliver of hope.

Stories from shoddy paranormal investigators saying that the Addison Apartments were haunted. A medium who seemed real enough saying there were benevolent forces within the building. An occultist teaming up with investigators all with a neat little spirit board, contacting a friendly ghost.

You weren’t sure how real that last one was. It screamed staged, if not outright fake.

True or not, the allure of Nockfell’s paranormal reputation drew you in with a vice. The promise of a low effort, high paying job with housing in a completely refurbished building is what drew your father in. Unlike yourself, he believed all the paranormal nonsense to be just that; nonsense.

“If there were really ghosts, Iwould be hearing your grandmother turning in her grave.” He’d state. It was almost playful, but you kicked one leg over the other and refused to reply everytime, without fail.

“Look kiddo, imagination is a great thing. I’m a lucky father to have a kid with such a big one.” He’d continue, tapping his fingers tentatively along the steering wheel. He’s coaxing a response out of you. You’d become accustomed to this behavior. He almost always acted like this, providing you with a handful of compliments before some piece of news you’d dislike.

“...Is there a but?” you question softly.

Your father sighs, gripping the steering wheel. He continues to stare forwards, but the sound of faux leather tightening under his palms doesn’t miss you for a second “You know how Lenora is. You’re almost an adult, kiddo..”

“I know that.” You answer stiffly. The window of the car is your solace at the moment, that’s for certain.

Lenora. Your father’s fiance. The two of them are a match made in hell, in your opinion. Your father was an..okay person. You think. You can’t be sure. You don’t have anyone normal or better to compare him to.

Lenora was a woman scorned. Thrice married, and she doesn’t let a soul forget about it. The first divorce was because she’d grown bored, and a particular comment about her first husband left you reeling. Her second husband, she left because he hadn’t been loyal, according to her. Her third husband..well that was because she hadn’t been loyal, in a turn of events. She was a nasty little woman. A day in her presence hadn’t gone back where you’ve seen human smile lines on her face. Just a furrowed brows and precariously plucked thin eyebrows. Her cheeks were unatturally sat high on her face, and when you had been foolish enough to ask about it, Lenora had cornered you and asked if you’ve considered a doctor to ‘fix’ you.