A/N: And I am back, everyone. To the reviewer that said she wished that this story would be updated more, I wish I could update more too, but real life (aka, grad school) loves getting in the way of my Violate obsession. I will try to update this as quickly and as often as I can, but sometimes there is literally nothing I can do. Chordata is the phylum to which all animals that have a backbone belong to. Sorry, I just had to include a nerdy scientific reference. The song is "Only To Haunt You" by The Von Bondies. It is perfect for Violate and a nice shout out to canon.

Tongue On The Blade

In the following week since Violet had made it very clear that she wanted nothing to do with his drama, it was only natural and completely predictable that he found himself obsessing about her even more.

Her hair swaying when she walked, her lips puckering when she sang, her eyes flashing dangerously at him when she told him off made him wish he could make her eyes flash in a different way, make her lips quiver for a different reason.

He knew that he was falling down the rabbit hole so far and fast, but he couldn't find it within himself to care enough to even try to slow his descent. He knew he had a few screws loose – all those therapists he saw as a kid could attest to that – and he would fully admit to himself that he had lost himself in some violent fantasies not particularly long ago. He couldn't deny that he hadn't thought about killing people sometimes, reveling in their blood on his hands, knowing that he was the one with the power to grant or take away life. However, he also couldn't deny that his thoughts about Violet were becoming more enticing and enjoyable than his violent ones had ever been. The fact that she had a mean streak in her – and he had a feeling that he would find that streak to be as dark as his own, a kindred spirit, one that had as many dirty, shameful secrets as his – made it even harder to follow her request and damn near impossible not to beat Gabe to a bloody pulp every time he would talk to her, which was becoming more and more often.

He wanted to shout at her every time she graced Gabe with a smile or laugh after practice. How could she not know? How could she ignore it? Ignore him?

Gabe would never satisfy her. He was pure, cookie-cutter nice guy, could barely be considered a member of Chordata since he was so spineless. She would grow bored of him, grow resentful of his inability to take control and make decisions, grow hateful of his stubborn refusal to be anything but so goddamn nice. She was fire, beautiful but dangerous to touch, and he was a wet dishrag. He would never be able to handle her. He would never challenge her.

Gabe would be the towel smothering her, but Tate would be the fuel to her fire.

She belonged with him.

He just had to make her see it.


"Okay, gang, good practice. Now I wanted to talk to you guys about something."

Travis waved them all over to the couch, and he saw Violet shoot Gabe a puzzled look.

"So as you all know, I have been in contact with the guy at The Murder House."

Tate sucked in a sharp breath. The Murder House was the biggest concert venue around – everyone who played there eventually got big. If they got a gig there, it would be huge for them.

"The Murder House? You have got to be kidding. That's where Cobain had his first show!"

She looked so excited he couldn't help smiling, though Gabe sliding his hand on top of hers threatened to turn his grin into a snarl. Thankfully Travis continued before Tate could do anything to spoil the mood.

"Yes, that would be the one. The guy, Hugo, was pretty cool. I pitched our act to him and he seemed pretty excited about it. He told me that he needed to talk it over with his boss and that he would get back to me as soon as possible."

Travis took a deep breath and looked each of them in the eye, the hint of a small smile on his lips.

"I think we have a good shot of playing there."

"No fucking way!"

Tate laughed as she jumped up and hugged Travis so hard he literally almost fell over. She let go of him and turned around, beaming at everyone, seemingly forgetting to give him her normal cold stare.

"I know I'm still learning, but I am willing to do whatever it takes to make sure we're ready for this. I will make you guys proud."

Travis clamped his hand down on her shoulder.

"I know you will. You're going to take us places, Violet."

She grinned, and Tate couldn't help but get swept away in her infectious happiness.

"Get ready for a wild ride, then."


Violet had insisted that they practiced one more song before they left and he was more than happy to oblige her since it meant he could spend more time in her presence. But now it was late, and Travis and Gabe had already left, the garage relatively dark with night falling outside. He was about to head out the door before he heard her singing. He turned to see her facing away from him, singing towards the white drab wall, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

"Rifle me

Just don't hold me

Blood depends

Make portraits of me

Won't you stay a little longer?

You'll find pain where most find pleasure."

He crept back towards the couch and sat down silently, mesmerized by her and only vaguely aware of the fact that she might not like it that he was blatantly invading her assumed privacy.

"Whoa, only to haunt you

Whoa, only to haunt you

Whoa, only to haunt you

It's true, it's you."

She turned around to face him, but her eyes were still closed and he prayed that she wouldn't open them and stop, because he didn't think he would survive if she stopped.

"She's not honest

The maddest one

Makes her kill when she needs to run

She don't mean it

She's good for the start

Begs and pleads when I break her heart."

She keeps going, still oblivious to him, and the lyrics of the song seemed to eerily echo him, her, and them together.

"Kill for me

Just adore me

Revel in these words who sold me

The night dressed in silence

Silence fills these thoughts with violence."

He still is glued to her, watching her face scrunch up in concentration as she belts out the last lines and he knew that she was singing about herself.

"She's the baddest one

Only to haunt you

Maddest one

Only to haunt you

Baddest one

Only to haunt you

It's true, it's you

Only to haunt you."

If she only knew how true that already was.

She slowly opens her eyes, and she looks dazed, as if she was in a trance, but then she saw him and her eyes snapped back into focus, welling up in fury at finding out that she was not alone. He knew that she was probably angry at letting herself be that vulnerable around him with no one else around, even though she didn't know he was there.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Her harsh tone still caught him a bit off guard and he just automatically said what he thought.

"Listening to your beautiful voice."

She snorted at his compliment, and he couldn't help but blush at the obvious romantic response he gave her.

"More like eavesdropping. You had no right."

"I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes at his apology.

"Lying won't do you any favors either."

He picked at his jeans, not brave enough to come out and say that no, he wasn't sorry at all, but smart enough not to repeat his earlier fake apology and risk her getting even more annoyed with him.

She sighed as she went to go get her stuff, and his eyes followed her hungrily, trying to memorize every detail about her, the way she walked, the curve of her legs, her tiny waist, the way her back arched as she leaned down to grab her backpack.

"Stop staring at me."

How did she –?

"I wasn't –"

"Don't even think about lying to me, Tate."

She said his name. He didn't care that she was angry, that he was probably going to be verbally emasculated by her for the second time in as many weeks, none of that mattered. She had said his name.

And if she said his name, he must have at least some effect on her.

"Do you take me for a fool? I know your kind. I know how you operate, all smooth and suave. And it won't work on me. I'm not some screaming, slutty fan who can be seduced by your rocker hair and the fact that you're a guitarist. You probably are used to having panties dropped at the snap of your fingers just because you know how to strum a few chords."

"Vi –"

"No. You don't have the right to call me that. You don't know me. You think you know me, but you know nothing about me."

She stomped across the garage and slammed the door shut, the force rattling the windowpanes.

He just stood there, listening to her car rev to life and speeding off into the night, but he couldn't help the smile that slowly crept on his face because he did find out something about her – that she wasn't as unaffected by him as she claimed to be.


A/N: Poor Tate, getting verbally thrown around by Violet! Reviews make me a happy camper!