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sarrsqz · 21 days

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And I'll be yours until the sun no longer shines

American Horror Story: Murder House

Post-Death Violet Harmon x Dead!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: When stuck thinking about a world you're no longer a part of, Violet's there to remind you of a world that was created just for you.

I gotta step up cause no one writes for her anymore 😔

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Afternoon sun spilled into the room and cascaded a long yellow gleam onto the floorboards. From years of sun damage -- caused by the open curtains that nobody ever fixed, and the angle of the sun at this exact time in the summer seasons -- the wooden floorboards had taken on a bleached look. Something that used to be a staple of the house's beauty now left to rot with the rest of it.

Your eyes followed the angled sun ray, watching it as it got narrower the further it went through the room. The peak of it hit the very bottom of the leather couch you laid on, which was covered in a thick plastic sheet. It was meant to protect the furniture in case of future buyers, but it's been over a decade since anyone (alive, that is) has lived here, so you doubt that it really matters now. It rustled under you whenever you shifted slightly. It reminded you of the paper sheet they use in doctor's offices, the ones that were left tattered after every patient sat on them.

Or maybe it was the squeaky sound it made that reminded you of something. Like how worn-down sneakers belonging to tired teenagers sounded when jogging through a school gym on a Monday morning.

But it didn't really matter. The only thing these comparisons really reminded you of was the fact that you thought too much about trivial things -- and reminisced about a life that you couldn't be a part of anymore.

The only thing that mattered now was the girl whose head was laying in your lap. The girl who had lightly slapped your hand when she realized you weren't paying attention to her speaking. "Are you even listening?" She asked, sitting up -- the plastic moving under you both -- and leaning on her elbow. Her pin straight hair fell over her left shoulder, framing her face that held a scowl at you for ignoring her.

You sat up on your elbows, eyes scanning over her face. She looked the same as she did when she was alive. Acted the same too. It was rare to meet a ghost who was at all similar to how they used to be. But that was Violet for you -- always the black sheep in every situation.

"Sorry." An apology came from your mouth, one of the many in this relationship. But what can you expect from fucked up dead teenagers?

"Jus' thinking about things." Your voice, again. It was difficult for your mind to catch up with your mouth sometimes, something you had grown accustomed to since dying. It never used to happen when you were alive though.

Violet's expression blanks, the scowl making its temporary exit. She glanced over at the sun beams, which were now shifted slightly due to the sun moving. "Your thoughts are more interesting than my cheesy story, huh?" She joked, the familiar sarcastic tone present in her voice. Her fingers began picking at loose strands on the sleeves of her cardigan, her nails chipped with old polish.

Right. Her story. Some cringy thing that happened when she still lived in Boston. She had been talking about it as if it was a fond memory, but you knew her. She just needed something to pass the time. It was futile though -- time doesn't stop for things like you.

You smiled anyway. "No, no. Sorry," another sorry, "keep talking." The words left your mouth, causing Violet to pause for a moment before continuing her story. Her storytelling was interesting enough. With her randomly thrown in curses and rants about people or things that annoyed her.

But what mainly caught your eye this time was the way the sun hit her face. That afternoon glow hitting the right side of her perfectly. Her brown eyes turned hazel, gold and green making appearances. Her hair looked more blond than ever. Memories of seeing her leave for school -- decades ago at this point -- back when she was still alive and had just moved here. Seeing her in the front lawn with her dad or with their old dog. Leaning on the doorframe of her bedroom, seeing her smile at you from across the room.

Making up new events as well. Seeing her at the beach, sand sticking to your skin and salt invading your nose. Walking through a music store, listening to her ramble about Morrissey and flipping through overpriced albums. Making fun of people buying mainstream music, blatantly ignoring the popularity of our own music tastes.

"Why do I even bother talking if you're not going to listen?" A frustrated voice broke through your thoughts. "Y'know, it hurts when you don't pay attention to me. I need you to be present." Her voice was softer when she said that. Vulnerable.

You shake your head slightly, looking away from her. "I was just... imagining shit." Your eyebrows raised slightly, a tight smile on your face as you looked back at her. Looking for forgiveness and for her to continue on with her stories of Boston.

But instead, you're met with concern. She seemed worried. Normally, she'd say something sarcastic, maybe cuss you out a bit, and then continue on like it's nothing. She doesn't have the energy to fight about something like this anyway. She's already not on speaking terms with some of the ghosts here, she doesn't need you pissed off too.

But no. She's worried. Your face dropped, hers narrowed. She sat up fully. Her legs were crossed, bare knees poking out from under her dark dress. "You can talk to me, you know."

You sat up. Your mind was still clouded with thoughts. Your head was a melting pot of memories and made-up fantasies. Your childhood, the high school you were never able to graduate from, the life you and the girl in front of you deserved to be able to live together.

She was back to picking at the strands on her cardigan. Tying random pieces into knots, pulling them apart, starting all over again. Her eyes shifted from her hands and back towards your face.

You opened your mouth, but this time nothing came out. You moved slightly, the plastic squeaked. Neither of you paid any mind to it. You crossed your arms, glancing down at the see-through material that exposed the old black leather of the couch.

"I just keep thinking about it." It. That's what we called the world outside of the house. The world that had forgotten us years ago. The one that wrote us off as tragic cases of teenagers in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Your voice was low. You looked up at her, seeing her face blank again. Unreadable. The sun is almost gone now. It had passed you both and was now situated in the furthest corner of the room.

"Don't be stupid." Her voice cut through the air. It was sharp but held a logical sense to it. She didn't want you to hurt yourself desiring something you can't have. "I wish I could tell you that it's going to happen, but we need to focus on what we have here." Is it obvious that we've had this conversation before?

But still, she was right. She seemed to always be right. Although it hurt knowing we'd be here forever, unable to grow up, unable to leave, we had to remain realistic. Hoping for something that was impossible would only make things worse.

"I mean, unless you found a magic spell that would bring us back to life or some shit." She laughed at her own comment. Even after everything that had happened to her, her humor never strayed.

You smiled, her laughter getting louder when she saw it. She moved closer to you, the sound of the plastic making both of you breakout in fits of laughter, unable to ignore the sound anymore.

She rested her head on your shoulder, your uneven laughs continuing to fill the semi-empty living room you both sat in. You leaned back, watching the sun finally leave the room. Violet leaned in closer, a smile on her pale face. A genuine one at that, no sarcasm in sight.

The lonely reality of being dead will always eat away at you. You'll always miss everything you once had, always resent the circumstances that took them away. You'll always fear forgetting about things that mean so much to you -- fear losing yourself to the insanity brought on by being stuck in a timeless loop of murder.

But you'll also have her by your side. The weirdest girl you've ever met that accepted her own death years before it even occurred. The girl who remained the same in death, and the girl who understands you better than anyone else in the shitty world you two share.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

this is kinda ass but it's okay for my first post lol

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