♥ venom with love wrote Come Away With Me Tonight 2/2 for ohyellowbird
Title: Come Away With Me Tonight 2/2
Author: venom with love
Summary: Violet Harmon isn’t expecting too much out of her first year of college. She figures she’ll ace her classes, maybe get drunk once or twice, and mostly be a hermit. A certain blond boy throws a wrench in those plans.
Spoilers/Warning/Triggers: Lots of swearing, sex, underage drinking, and mentions of death.
Author Notes: Thank you jandjsalmon for your wonderful help and support. To the person I wrote this for, I hope I did your prompt a justice (I loved writing it). Enjoy reading!
( Come Away With Me Tonight 1/2 )
***
Their next hang out is some quality library time.
Violet has to hand it to Tate, though, because he’s pretty serious about the paper and their deal. He starts it a whole week early and has an appointment with a writing consultant and everything.
She already knows what she’s going to give him. Even if he doesn’t get an A, she’ll probably still give it because it’s something that benefits her, too.
The downside to having Tate so focused is that he’s not trying to tease or flirt with her. Like, at all. Because she already has a draft done, and really, the rest of her other homework, she’s bored. She pushes her chair out and gets to her feet.
He barely looks up when she mumbles, “I’m going to find a book.”
The library has a surprisingly good collection of newly released books, so for a little while, Violet is lost to thumbing through titles in her little corner of the deserted second floor. She’s so intent that she doesn’t notice the warmth of another body behind her until a hand is clasped over her mouth, an arm secured around her waist.
Her instincts kick in and she squirms violently, ready to swing the book back into the person’s face. Then, she’s spun around and pressed into the shelves behind her. Her eyes dance over the form in front of her and she nearly spits.
“You asshole!”
Tate’s smiling face is the only answer she gets. With a frustrated growl, she lifts the book anyway, preparing to snap it forward. He laughs, easily catching her wrist, shaking it until the book drops. He presses her arm to the shelf above her and steps further into her space, fully flush to her body.
“Sorry about the lack of attention,” he whispers, the hand still on her waist flexing, bunching up her dress. “But not sorry about this-you’re too much fun to rile up.”
And then he moves forward, pressing his lips to hers softly. She tenses for a beat before her eyes flutter closed and she sighs into the kiss. He releases her arm so that both of his hands can hold onto her hips.
They’re hungry, burning as they move together, giving and taking. Violet secures her hands in his hair, giving a sharp tug when he starts nipping her bottom lip. Her legs fall open and Tate moves immediately, nestling himself between her thighs. He pushes her dress up until the hem is nearly at her hips. He pulls her to him, angling her pelvis until their bodies are aligned and then he begins a slow grind-he feels the heat from her pussy all over his crotch and he wants to call it heaven. He’s so fucking hard within minutes and Violet is needy, rocking her hips forward faster until their pace breaks down and they’re grinding in earnest, hushed sighs and moans swallowed in their frantic kissing.
Someone clears their throat. “I need to get in there.”
Tate pulls back, relishing the way Violet moves forward at the same time to keep in contact. He presses a soft peck to her nose before fully disentangling himself. He tugs on her hand, dragging her slightly dazed form with him.
“It’s all yours.” Tate says, throwing a wink to the annoyed boy who interrupted them.
“Let’s go finish our homework so we can eat, Violet. I’m suddenly starving.”
It takes the pair a little while to get back on track. They share sly, heated looks back and forth until Violet realizes how much they’re distracting themselves from their work. Or, rather, how much she is preventing him from finishing his paper. Since she’s already done with her homework, she decides to make a food run to give him time to get back to writing.
“Finish your paper,” She whispers when he gives her a questioning look as she stands. “I’ll be back in a few.”
The weekend food selection is shit. Violet ends up with two helpings of chicken noodle soup, some bread, and a limp salad. When she hauls it back to their little study nook, Tate’s steadily tapping away at his laptop. He nods to her absentmindedly when she arrives. She sets the food on the table in front of him, digging into her own once she’s done.
She eats almost all of hers by the time he pushes away from the table. He presses on the mouse pad one last time before flashing a triumphant grin.
“All fucking done.”
Violet smiles and juts her chin toward the food. “Eat up, Mr. High Achiever.”
He does, gladly, even though it’s shit, and then decides to play footsies with her until they’re done.
She doesn’t even roll her eyes at his antics.
***
When they get their papers back, Violet looks over at Tate for his reaction. He doesn’t look visibly upset, more neutral when he shoves the paper in his bag. In their usual routine, he gets up and waits by her seat for her to get packed up and then they leave together.
“Are you going to tell me what you got?” She asks, nudging his shoulder with her own.
“Maybe.”
Violet huffs, entirely not in the mood to play games him. Especially if he was going to be a grouchy little fucker about things.
“Well, then, fine, I guess I’ll never know.”
She seems him bite his lip to keep from smiling in response to her biting tone. He leads them in the direction of his dorm and for a brief moment, she considers leaving him there alone and maybe taking a nap or something.
Once they’re inside his room, she flops down on his bed and lifts herself up on her elbows. He throws both of their bags in front of his closet before shuffling through is to retrieve the crumpled paper. Turning around his desk chair to straddle it, he throws the paper to Violet. He keeps his features calm, giving away nothing and she honestly starts to worry that maybe he didn’t do so hot.
Until she flips the paper to the last page and sees a big, red A accompanied by great job! and substantial improvement.
“You’re such a douche, Tate, I swear to god.”
His façade breaks and he laughs at her disgruntled demeanor until he has to wipe his eyes and clutch his stomach. Violet rolls her eyes and hops off his bed. She leans around him to dig through his desk drawer until bingo! she lifts one of the magnets the school gives in its various welcome back swag bags or whatever. She slaps the paper on the front of his mini fridge and secures it with the magnet.
“I feel like I should put a sticker on it or something.” She says mirthfully as she comes to stand beside him.
He palms her ass, the fucker, and says, “I think I’d rather take your gift, but if you have a sticker on hand, that would be great, too.”
She lets him skim his fingers along the backs of her thighs before swatting his hand away. “Get on the bed.”
His eyes widen and his shock outweighs his cockiness. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. Now.”
He grins boyishly, shy, and leaps onto the bed, making himself comfortable by fully lying down. Violet peels back her cardigan and chuckles as she sees how excited he is getting. When she bunches up her long dress to reach under it, she swears he might have a heart attack. She wiggles a bit, pulling her panties down with one a hand a little awkwardly but still attractive enough for Tate to let out a groan.
“Lean back.” Her voice shakes.
Their physical relationship is progressing, and it’s not like she’s a virgin, but the majority of their interactions are initiated by him. Not this time, though, and even though she’s certain he wouldn’t reject anything from her, nerves don’t exactly listen to logic.
He complies eagerly, his head landing with a muffled thump on his pillow. She climbs over him, fumbling for purchase as she rights herself over his hips. He winks at her, hands coming up to grasp her hips, thumbs rubbing circles over her hipbones.
He probably thinks she’s going to take his dick out and bounce bounce bounce.
Which, in all honesty, is something she wants to do. A lot.
But, no, she’ll start off with something a little different.
With her hands on his chest, she pushes up on her knees. She edges forward slowly and at a certain point, like a switch, realization dawns in his face and he looks even more excited. She’s thankful when his head disappears as her thighs come to rest on either side of his head and her dress falls over him-her face and chest must be fire engine red and she’s glad to have a moment to calm breathe. His hands move up to rest on her thighs and she finally settles down on him fully.
He begins immediately, eagerly, and his enthusiasm has Violet choking out a gasp and jerking her hips forward involuntarily. His tongue is insistent, but resolutely avoids her clit in favor of alternating attention on her labia. He rhythmically clenches and releases his hands around her thighs, fingers coming close enough to skim her slit from behind at certain points.
Violet is hot, burning, and has to lean backwards, hands gripping his thighs as she continues to move with his mouth. Her pussy feels so warm, responding to his touch quickly and if she was able to vocalize anything other than moans, she might have asked him if he needed water wings down there.
But that would probably ruin the mood.
Mercifully, when he works her up enough, in his opinion, he focuses on her clit. His tongue, tensed and pointed, flicks the hood and then he’s directly there, moving in rapid, tight circles. She nearly jumps forward, breaks the connection, so he skims his fingers up to lock around her hips, limiting her movements to swivels and grinds against his mouth. She bites her bottom lip so hard she tastes blood. She feels frantic, close enough to feel that warmth building inside of her and she just needs him to fucking push her over the edge.
He flattens his tongue, still intent on her clit, which he gives long, hard-pressed licks to. She groans in frustration and hears and feels him chuckle in response. She wants to move her hips faster but he still holds them tightly. He runs the edges of his teeth along the sensitive skin gently before going all in again. The tip of his tongue if moving firmly, swiftly, against her clit again, hands guiding her hips as she feels that flush spread and pleasure burn its way through her veins. She continues moving against him, slower now, wanting to prolong the feelings, until she slumps.
When she can think again, she shifts down, her legs screaming from being folded up for so long, to situate herself over his crotch again. She can feel how hard he is and yeah, bouncing on his dick doesn’t sound half bad right now.
Tate meets her eyes, taking in the rapid movement of her chest as she regulates her breathing. He licks his lips, moaning softly at her taste and fresh memories of being up close and personal with her sweet cunt. Not mention being able to make her come so fucking hard.
“That was one hell of a gift, Vi.” He mumbles.
“Yeah, well,”
She honestly can’t think of something to snark back, so she goes with that.
After having a few moments to bring themselves back, Tate sits up and they shift until she’s comfortably seated on his lap. He brushes back errant pieces of her hair and she blushes, suddenly feeling shy with the gentle nature of his touch, even though she just had her pussy in his face.
He runs his hands along the sloping curve of her waist, back and forth, Violet decides to get over her momentary embarrassment and take matters into her own hands again. She scoots back and moves her hands between them, quickly popping the button of his jeans and unzipping him. Tate smirks and stills her hands, taking over for her. He lifts his hips up enough to pull his pants and boxers down to his knees. His buries his hands in her hair, surging forward to envelop her mouth in a violent, frenzied kiss.
It isn’t flowers and candles. A thoroughly romantic first time together. It’s a rash decision, no real thought given, and it suits them perfectly.
Violet grasps him and feels the pulse of his blood pumping, but he stills the motion before she can position herself over him. Awkwardly-enough to make her giggle at him-he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom.
She arches an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
Tate gives her a look as if to say, are you really going to give me shit about this now?
And Violet decides, no, she’d rather do something else instead.
Making quick work, she rips the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls the condom down the length of his cock. She grasps him once more and lifts her hips, the head nudging at her soaked entrance. A whimper escapes her when she inches down until her pelvis is nestled to his and he’s stretching her walls deliciously.
Tate makes quick work of her sleeves, pulling them down far enough that her breasts are bared to him-she’s glad she decided to forgo a bra today. He’s in no mood to tease anymore, too hard, and all he wants is see and feel her come again. Moving one of his hands to the small of her back, he maneuvers them swiftly so that she is under him. He sets a rigorous pace, moving his hips in circles every so often, which earns a ragged cry in his ear every time.
Violet plants her feet firmly on the bed, thighs flush with his hips, and she gives back just as hard. They’re near violent as they thrust together, his cries muffled in warm breaths against the curve of her neck while hers fall freely in the air. At one point, Tate is all tongues and teeth, attacking her neck like he’s trying to permanently mark her.
“Fu-uck, Vi,” He cries brokenly, feeling his balls tighten and knowing he doesn’t have long.
He brings his tongue to his mouth, laving over the tip before pressing it down over her clit. Violet cries out in surprise and her hips snap forward, throwing off their rhythm. He moves his thumb quickly and the combine sensations make Violet’s mouth fall open but she is unable to produce anything other than sharp gasps. Tate feels her cunt pulsing around him and he groans before biting down harshly on her neck.
Violet snaps. Her muscles spasm, thighs shaking and back arching as her orgasm washes over her once more. Tate mumbles fuck in her ear as he cums, his movements slowing down as the feelings wear off. Violet absentmindedly files her fingers through his hair, humming, and he presses open-mouthed kisses to the area he was previously assaulting.
The two remain wrapped up in each other, minutes stretching by, and Violet is nearly asleep when Tate suggests they go on a date, a real one, this weekend.
She smiles sleepily and thinks a bit sardonically that maybe they were destined to do things backward. She wouldn’t change a fucking thing about them, though, so it’s all really inconsequential, isn’t it?
She says yes.
***
Unfortunately, their little bubble bursts sooner rather than later. Or, preferably, at all.
Tate stands her up. She sits in the movie theater’s café for the duration of their showtime, downing nachos and slushy until deciding to get the fuck out of there.
When she gets back on campus, she waits outside of his building until someone lets her in. She bangs on his door for a good minute and whirls around when nothing happens. She runs into Gabe, one of the few friends of Tate she’s met.
She knows not to ask outright where he is. He’ll probably make something up for his buddy.
“Is there a party tonight?”
Still, he looks guilty, not quite meeting her gaze. He can’t exactly say no, because it’s a Friday night on a college campus, so yeah, there’s probably a party or three going on. After a while, Gabe lets out a gust of air and finally meets her gaze.
“Look, there’s a bunch of shit going on tonight, but he’s probably chilling at the Kappa house. Pre-gaming or something, I don’t know.”
She throws him a thanks and rushes away, too angry to think about maybe not subjecting herself to finding Tate’s sorry ass.
Thankfully, the trek isn’t too far and then she’s there, letting herself into the fucking house. No shouts of indignation or anything of the sort welcome her, so she simply follows the sounds of idiot boys to the living room. She doesn’t even have to look for him, he’s right there.
He looks about two seconds from passing out, high as hell with bottles littering the floor around him.
And some fucking girl sitting on the armrest, touching his hair. He’s not doing anything to encourage it, fuck barely acknowledges that there’s anyone beside him, aside from various staccato nods to whatever the fuck she’s giggling at him. Jealousy flashes through her, but she cares more about the fact that he seems to care more about getting high and fucking around in some frat house than her.
Another blond boy tries to pass her a beer but she shakes her head. Like a bad teen movie, his half-lidded eyes focus lazily on her form. She waits a beat, until she sees some form of recognition and then panic.
Biting down the urge to scream at him, she merely shrugs and whirls around, stalking back to the front door. She’s so fast she doesn’t see his pathetic attempt at scrambling to get up from his seat. Before she makes it outside, she shakes her head and makes her way to other side of the house, to nick another unopened bottle of rum before leaving for good.
She moves as fast as she can so that he can’t catch her.
***
Violet decides against drinking herself into oblivion and instead, she takes a shower to wash off the gross and reads until she passes out.
She sleeps for like two hours before harsh banging drags her out of dreamland.
Sarah must have come back at some point because she joins in the sounds after a bit, shouting for Violet to wake up. “Your fucking boyfriend is going to rip our door off. Go talk to him.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s an asshole.” Violet mutters, but still stumbles out of the comfort of her bed.
She wrenches the door open and is greeted with a very shitty-looking Tate, all bloodshot eyes and sallow-looking skin. Before he can launch into some apology rant, she cups her hand over his mouth to silence him.
“Let’s take this to your room, okay?”
He nods in response, relieved that she appears willing to listen. She scoffs at the hopeful expression and leads the way. When they get to his room, he has way too much trouble fumbling with his keys that she hip checks him out of the way, grabbing the keys to unlock the door herself, and hold it open for him.
“I didn’t do anything with that girl, Vi, I swear.”
Boys. Ugh.
“I don’t fucking care about her,” Okay, maybe she did a little bit for a fraction of a second, whatever, “I want to know why you stood me up to get high with those losers.”
Tate pulls himself onto his bed, motioning for Violet to join him. She laughs at him, taking his chair instead, and angling it to face him. He opens his mouth before thinking twice, shaking his head and making some sort of decision about what to say.
“I’m sorry, Violet.”
“Not good enough. Explain.”
Tate remains silent for so long and she can’t stand it. She wants to shake him for a better answer. Angrily, she pushes herself off the chair and rushes to the door. “When you have a real explanation, come find me.”
Before she can make it over the threshold, he speaks.
“I fucked up. I had a fucking meltdown today over a phone call.” He barks out a laugh. “My coping skills aren’t the best.”
Violet is confused. She doesn’t say anything-she doesn’t know what to say at all. But thankfully, he’s not really looking for her to respond anymore.
“They’re the ones who pulled the plug and now, fucking months later, they want to play good Samaritans.” He starts crying, harsh sobs almost blocking out his words. “They re-resented her for what she had, and now they’re raising money for other kids like her? Bullshit.”
Violet stumbles over to him. She falls to her knees, hands pressing to his legs as she regards him.
“My parents-fuck, my mother and her new husband-killed my sister.”
Thoughts swirl around in her head, screaming at her, and she is a mess of confusion. She wonders if she heard wrong or if she’s simply going crazy.
“I don’t understand, Tate, please,” She pleads.
“My sister, Addie, got hit by a car last fall. They took her off life support in February. On her fucking birthday. And today my mom calls me to tell me the great news about their new charity for kids with Downs. Like she didn’t spend Addie’s entire life shitting on her for being different.”
She falls back on her ass, the weight of his words hitting her like a brick wall. Her hands clasp over her mouth and she tries to keep the tears at bay. Tate lets out a cry that breaks her heart and shakes her to the core before toppling in grief and exhaustion. Violet scrambles forward, climbing up and over him until she’s pressed behind his back, bodies flush, and her arms curled over him. She feels like she’s shielding him, protecting him from everything with her body.
Tate doesn’t say anything else. He cries and cries, letting everything out of him until his body can take no more and he’ silenced by sleep.
Violet continues to hold him, her mind keeping her awake as she analyzes everything he said, everything that has broken this boy.
***
Violet falls asleep when the sun rises. It isn’t until she feels Tate stirring that she wakes up and sees that his alarm clock flashes two p.m.
She waits until he wakes up. His dark brown eyes are so filled with remorse when he meets her gaze. He is cautious, but unable to stop himself from laying sweet, apologetic kisses all over her face.
“I’m sorry, Violet.” He murmurs in between kisses.
She shakes her head. “I forgive you. I’m still upset, but I do.”
Tate hums, no longer kissing her, but moving them around so that he is the one holding her.
“You handled it wrong, and you hurt me,” He cringes at that. “Do it again and I break your face. Deal?”
He smiles, tentatively, and nods. “Deal.”
“Good. Now let’s go get some food in you and try to fix some of the damage you inflicted on your poor body.”
***
Violet wanted to go out that evening, maybe make up for Friday’s shitshow.
After lunch, Tate still isn’t in a condition to do anything other than lie down and groan, so that plan is kind of defunct. Violet rushes back to her room to pack an overnight bag and spends the rest of the day and night helping Tate not die as he comes down from his hangover. She spends Sunday in his room, too, bringing in him soup and watching Netflix with him until they doze off.
The next week is boring, nothing out of the ordinary, and Tate tries so hard. Sometimes Violet gets annoyed by how positively sweet he is and has to cool off by herself lest she start calling his efforts bullshit to his face.
Come Friday, he takes her out, finally making good on his promise of an actual date. He doesn’t let her know where they’re going, and then they’re pulling up in front of some giant ass warehouse.
Violet thinks that this might actually be the night she dies. Maybe her pseudo-boyfriend is really a murderous psychopath and she fell into his trap.
But then she sees the flashing sign that announces laser tag and an arcade, so she pushes those thoughts aside and lets him lead her into the building. Apparently, there’s a birthday party going on, middle school children running around while a couple of adults clustered in a corner busy themselves with a brown-bagged bottle. Nice.
The rest of the place is rather empty and it only takes a few minutes to pay. They’re forced to watch a safety video, but with Tate whispering snarky comebacks for every statement, Violet spends the duration of it stifling laughs. The door to the actual laser tag arena opens and one of the little shits pushes Violet aside so hard and unexpectedly that she knocks into the wall.
Tate trips the little shit after they all suit up and are released to wreak havoc on each other.
And then he proceeds to hunt said little shit to make sure his suit’s lights are always out.
Her knight in shining armor.
They play four more rounds with those little fuckers before calling it quits. Not ready to end the night, Tate drives them a whole-in-the-wall bar he used to frequent as a freshman-they admit at eighteen and are kind of lax about who gets to have alcohol.
He makes to order them some hard liquor, but sees Violet shake her head no, so he opts for red wine. It’s cheap shit, hell, probably boxed wine, but they really don’t care. They drink, snuggled up on the same side of the booth, and listen to the folk station the owner has playing.
“Thank you, Violet.”
She hums, feeling the second glass warming her, relaxation pouring through her. “For what?”
Not leaving me like I deserve, giving me a second chance, everything, basically.
Tate doesn’t answer, pressing her closer into his embrace. They let themselves exist in this little bubble, enjoying the sensations and feelings and thoughts lazily circulating through them. At a certain point, Tate has the urge to move, get up. He drags Violet behind him until they’re outside, on the patio seating area. The music from inside barely trickles outside but it’s enough for him.
He pulls her into him and wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. She responds in kind and then they sway together, drinking in the closeness they have in these moments.
The two of them stay like that until the owner tells them to kindly get the fuck out so he can close.
They go back to campus, bypassing her dorm altogether until they stumble to his room and collapse on his bed. The high of the night stays with them and they make love slowly, carefully, as if being too rough will break the quiet, gentle joy they achieved.
Violet nods of in his arms, leaving Tate alone with his thoughts. They run through his mind slowly, but with force and clarity. He’s fucked up, he knows this, but tonight-fuck last Friday-is a turning point. He won’t let what happened with his parents dictate his life.
He’ll turn this semester and the next around, graduate, and be fucking happy with this girl.
***
After the shitstorm that was their not-first date, and the successful second attempt, they rebuild their relationship. It wasn’t quite broken, but there were cracks from mistrust and withheld secrets that they fill together over time.
Tate’s mother still calls him most days, and sometimes he’ll answer (mostly by accident because he forgets to check), which results in a screaming match and then him closing himself off.
Violet hates those days. She does her best to comfort him, help him ride through it.
It doesn’t always work and sometimes he’s cruel, telling her she’s too clingy, putting too much pressure on him, suffocating him.
One of those times, he scares her with the nasty words he used.
She tells him to fuck off or go to therapy.
He chooses the latter and she wraps him back up in her heart.
They spend the break at her mother’s house-her father is bored, halting contact with her completely, but she doesn’t care. The older woman is glowing, happy to have her baby back home, and happy to see her in love with someone she thinks can love her back properly.
Violet thinks so too.
With Violet’s support, and the encouragement of his therapist, he has a long, hard talk with his parents. When he comes back from their house, he’s lighter, and more than willing to pour his love completely into her.
She doesn’t know what happens in a few months-where they’ll be when he graduates and she still has another three years. She does know that she’s completely in love and not fucking willing to give him up, so they’ll manage to work something out.
They won’t become poetry of lost love or some shit. They’ll be alright.
PROMPT GIVEN TO AUTHOR:
1. Please List Preferred Characters and/or Pairings: langdon doing anything, tate/violet, zoe/kyle, any combo of zoe/kyle/tate/violet
2. Squicks or characters/pairings you do not want in your gift: thredson. lol the second season was so terrible
3. Possible Scenarios/Themes/Lines to incorporate: i'd love a college AU where violet and tate meet while they are both ALIVE and attending school. i feel like we were gipped this season with kyle losing his frat boy persona so quickly. i'd like angst and jealousy and smut and partying and rain and just really anything you'd like to write!
4. Youtube link a SONG to describe the overall theme you would like:
Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis - Brand New -
i love this song. it's sad and sexy and more than a little bit fucked up. it feels very violate to me.
5. Preferred Rating: MATURE OBVIOUSLY
6. Strictly Canon, AU, Doesn’t Matter?: doesn't matter
Author: venom with love
Summary: Violet Harmon isn’t expecting too much out of her first year of college. She figures she’ll ace her classes, maybe get drunk once or twice, and mostly be a hermit. A certain blond boy throws a wrench in those plans.
Spoilers/Warning/Triggers: Lots of swearing, sex, underage drinking, and mentions of death.
Author Notes: Thank you jandjsalmon for your wonderful help and support. To the person I wrote this for, I hope I did your prompt a justice (I loved writing it). Enjoy reading!
( Come Away With Me Tonight 1/2 )
***
Their next hang out is some quality library time.
Violet has to hand it to Tate, though, because he’s pretty serious about the paper and their deal. He starts it a whole week early and has an appointment with a writing consultant and everything.
She already knows what she’s going to give him. Even if he doesn’t get an A, she’ll probably still give it because it’s something that benefits her, too.
The downside to having Tate so focused is that he’s not trying to tease or flirt with her. Like, at all. Because she already has a draft done, and really, the rest of her other homework, she’s bored. She pushes her chair out and gets to her feet.
He barely looks up when she mumbles, “I’m going to find a book.”
The library has a surprisingly good collection of newly released books, so for a little while, Violet is lost to thumbing through titles in her little corner of the deserted second floor. She’s so intent that she doesn’t notice the warmth of another body behind her until a hand is clasped over her mouth, an arm secured around her waist.
Her instincts kick in and she squirms violently, ready to swing the book back into the person’s face. Then, she’s spun around and pressed into the shelves behind her. Her eyes dance over the form in front of her and she nearly spits.
“You asshole!”
Tate’s smiling face is the only answer she gets. With a frustrated growl, she lifts the book anyway, preparing to snap it forward. He laughs, easily catching her wrist, shaking it until the book drops. He presses her arm to the shelf above her and steps further into her space, fully flush to her body.
“Sorry about the lack of attention,” he whispers, the hand still on her waist flexing, bunching up her dress. “But not sorry about this-you’re too much fun to rile up.”
And then he moves forward, pressing his lips to hers softly. She tenses for a beat before her eyes flutter closed and she sighs into the kiss. He releases her arm so that both of his hands can hold onto her hips.
They’re hungry, burning as they move together, giving and taking. Violet secures her hands in his hair, giving a sharp tug when he starts nipping her bottom lip. Her legs fall open and Tate moves immediately, nestling himself between her thighs. He pushes her dress up until the hem is nearly at her hips. He pulls her to him, angling her pelvis until their bodies are aligned and then he begins a slow grind-he feels the heat from her pussy all over his crotch and he wants to call it heaven. He’s so fucking hard within minutes and Violet is needy, rocking her hips forward faster until their pace breaks down and they’re grinding in earnest, hushed sighs and moans swallowed in their frantic kissing.
Someone clears their throat. “I need to get in there.”
Tate pulls back, relishing the way Violet moves forward at the same time to keep in contact. He presses a soft peck to her nose before fully disentangling himself. He tugs on her hand, dragging her slightly dazed form with him.
“It’s all yours.” Tate says, throwing a wink to the annoyed boy who interrupted them.
“Let’s go finish our homework so we can eat, Violet. I’m suddenly starving.”
It takes the pair a little while to get back on track. They share sly, heated looks back and forth until Violet realizes how much they’re distracting themselves from their work. Or, rather, how much she is preventing him from finishing his paper. Since she’s already done with her homework, she decides to make a food run to give him time to get back to writing.
“Finish your paper,” She whispers when he gives her a questioning look as she stands. “I’ll be back in a few.”
The weekend food selection is shit. Violet ends up with two helpings of chicken noodle soup, some bread, and a limp salad. When she hauls it back to their little study nook, Tate’s steadily tapping away at his laptop. He nods to her absentmindedly when she arrives. She sets the food on the table in front of him, digging into her own once she’s done.
She eats almost all of hers by the time he pushes away from the table. He presses on the mouse pad one last time before flashing a triumphant grin.
“All fucking done.”
Violet smiles and juts her chin toward the food. “Eat up, Mr. High Achiever.”
He does, gladly, even though it’s shit, and then decides to play footsies with her until they’re done.
She doesn’t even roll her eyes at his antics.
***
When they get their papers back, Violet looks over at Tate for his reaction. He doesn’t look visibly upset, more neutral when he shoves the paper in his bag. In their usual routine, he gets up and waits by her seat for her to get packed up and then they leave together.
“Are you going to tell me what you got?” She asks, nudging his shoulder with her own.
“Maybe.”
Violet huffs, entirely not in the mood to play games him. Especially if he was going to be a grouchy little fucker about things.
“Well, then, fine, I guess I’ll never know.”
She seems him bite his lip to keep from smiling in response to her biting tone. He leads them in the direction of his dorm and for a brief moment, she considers leaving him there alone and maybe taking a nap or something.
Once they’re inside his room, she flops down on his bed and lifts herself up on her elbows. He throws both of their bags in front of his closet before shuffling through is to retrieve the crumpled paper. Turning around his desk chair to straddle it, he throws the paper to Violet. He keeps his features calm, giving away nothing and she honestly starts to worry that maybe he didn’t do so hot.
Until she flips the paper to the last page and sees a big, red A accompanied by great job! and substantial improvement.
“You’re such a douche, Tate, I swear to god.”
His façade breaks and he laughs at her disgruntled demeanor until he has to wipe his eyes and clutch his stomach. Violet rolls her eyes and hops off his bed. She leans around him to dig through his desk drawer until bingo! she lifts one of the magnets the school gives in its various welcome back swag bags or whatever. She slaps the paper on the front of his mini fridge and secures it with the magnet.
“I feel like I should put a sticker on it or something.” She says mirthfully as she comes to stand beside him.
He palms her ass, the fucker, and says, “I think I’d rather take your gift, but if you have a sticker on hand, that would be great, too.”
She lets him skim his fingers along the backs of her thighs before swatting his hand away. “Get on the bed.”
His eyes widen and his shock outweighs his cockiness. “For real?”
“Yes, for real. Now.”
He grins boyishly, shy, and leaps onto the bed, making himself comfortable by fully lying down. Violet peels back her cardigan and chuckles as she sees how excited he is getting. When she bunches up her long dress to reach under it, she swears he might have a heart attack. She wiggles a bit, pulling her panties down with one a hand a little awkwardly but still attractive enough for Tate to let out a groan.
“Lean back.” Her voice shakes.
Their physical relationship is progressing, and it’s not like she’s a virgin, but the majority of their interactions are initiated by him. Not this time, though, and even though she’s certain he wouldn’t reject anything from her, nerves don’t exactly listen to logic.
He complies eagerly, his head landing with a muffled thump on his pillow. She climbs over him, fumbling for purchase as she rights herself over his hips. He winks at her, hands coming up to grasp her hips, thumbs rubbing circles over her hipbones.
He probably thinks she’s going to take his dick out and bounce bounce bounce.
Which, in all honesty, is something she wants to do. A lot.
But, no, she’ll start off with something a little different.
With her hands on his chest, she pushes up on her knees. She edges forward slowly and at a certain point, like a switch, realization dawns in his face and he looks even more excited. She’s thankful when his head disappears as her thighs come to rest on either side of his head and her dress falls over him-her face and chest must be fire engine red and she’s glad to have a moment to calm breathe. His hands move up to rest on her thighs and she finally settles down on him fully.
He begins immediately, eagerly, and his enthusiasm has Violet choking out a gasp and jerking her hips forward involuntarily. His tongue is insistent, but resolutely avoids her clit in favor of alternating attention on her labia. He rhythmically clenches and releases his hands around her thighs, fingers coming close enough to skim her slit from behind at certain points.
Violet is hot, burning, and has to lean backwards, hands gripping his thighs as she continues to move with his mouth. Her pussy feels so warm, responding to his touch quickly and if she was able to vocalize anything other than moans, she might have asked him if he needed water wings down there.
But that would probably ruin the mood.
Mercifully, when he works her up enough, in his opinion, he focuses on her clit. His tongue, tensed and pointed, flicks the hood and then he’s directly there, moving in rapid, tight circles. She nearly jumps forward, breaks the connection, so he skims his fingers up to lock around her hips, limiting her movements to swivels and grinds against his mouth. She bites her bottom lip so hard she tastes blood. She feels frantic, close enough to feel that warmth building inside of her and she just needs him to fucking push her over the edge.
He flattens his tongue, still intent on her clit, which he gives long, hard-pressed licks to. She groans in frustration and hears and feels him chuckle in response. She wants to move her hips faster but he still holds them tightly. He runs the edges of his teeth along the sensitive skin gently before going all in again. The tip of his tongue if moving firmly, swiftly, against her clit again, hands guiding her hips as she feels that flush spread and pleasure burn its way through her veins. She continues moving against him, slower now, wanting to prolong the feelings, until she slumps.
When she can think again, she shifts down, her legs screaming from being folded up for so long, to situate herself over his crotch again. She can feel how hard he is and yeah, bouncing on his dick doesn’t sound half bad right now.
Tate meets her eyes, taking in the rapid movement of her chest as she regulates her breathing. He licks his lips, moaning softly at her taste and fresh memories of being up close and personal with her sweet cunt. Not mention being able to make her come so fucking hard.
“That was one hell of a gift, Vi.” He mumbles.
“Yeah, well,”
She honestly can’t think of something to snark back, so she goes with that.
After having a few moments to bring themselves back, Tate sits up and they shift until she’s comfortably seated on his lap. He brushes back errant pieces of her hair and she blushes, suddenly feeling shy with the gentle nature of his touch, even though she just had her pussy in his face.
He runs his hands along the sloping curve of her waist, back and forth, Violet decides to get over her momentary embarrassment and take matters into her own hands again. She scoots back and moves her hands between them, quickly popping the button of his jeans and unzipping him. Tate smirks and stills her hands, taking over for her. He lifts his hips up enough to pull his pants and boxers down to his knees. His buries his hands in her hair, surging forward to envelop her mouth in a violent, frenzied kiss.
It isn’t flowers and candles. A thoroughly romantic first time together. It’s a rash decision, no real thought given, and it suits them perfectly.
Violet grasps him and feels the pulse of his blood pumping, but he stills the motion before she can position herself over him. Awkwardly-enough to make her giggle at him-he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a condom.
She arches an eyebrow at him. “Really?”
Tate gives her a look as if to say, are you really going to give me shit about this now?
And Violet decides, no, she’d rather do something else instead.
Making quick work, she rips the wrapper open with her teeth and rolls the condom down the length of his cock. She grasps him once more and lifts her hips, the head nudging at her soaked entrance. A whimper escapes her when she inches down until her pelvis is nestled to his and he’s stretching her walls deliciously.
Tate makes quick work of her sleeves, pulling them down far enough that her breasts are bared to him-she’s glad she decided to forgo a bra today. He’s in no mood to tease anymore, too hard, and all he wants is see and feel her come again. Moving one of his hands to the small of her back, he maneuvers them swiftly so that she is under him. He sets a rigorous pace, moving his hips in circles every so often, which earns a ragged cry in his ear every time.
Violet plants her feet firmly on the bed, thighs flush with his hips, and she gives back just as hard. They’re near violent as they thrust together, his cries muffled in warm breaths against the curve of her neck while hers fall freely in the air. At one point, Tate is all tongues and teeth, attacking her neck like he’s trying to permanently mark her.
“Fu-uck, Vi,” He cries brokenly, feeling his balls tighten and knowing he doesn’t have long.
He brings his tongue to his mouth, laving over the tip before pressing it down over her clit. Violet cries out in surprise and her hips snap forward, throwing off their rhythm. He moves his thumb quickly and the combine sensations make Violet’s mouth fall open but she is unable to produce anything other than sharp gasps. Tate feels her cunt pulsing around him and he groans before biting down harshly on her neck.
Violet snaps. Her muscles spasm, thighs shaking and back arching as her orgasm washes over her once more. Tate mumbles fuck in her ear as he cums, his movements slowing down as the feelings wear off. Violet absentmindedly files her fingers through his hair, humming, and he presses open-mouthed kisses to the area he was previously assaulting.
The two remain wrapped up in each other, minutes stretching by, and Violet is nearly asleep when Tate suggests they go on a date, a real one, this weekend.
She smiles sleepily and thinks a bit sardonically that maybe they were destined to do things backward. She wouldn’t change a fucking thing about them, though, so it’s all really inconsequential, isn’t it?
She says yes.
***
Unfortunately, their little bubble bursts sooner rather than later. Or, preferably, at all.
Tate stands her up. She sits in the movie theater’s café for the duration of their showtime, downing nachos and slushy until deciding to get the fuck out of there.
When she gets back on campus, she waits outside of his building until someone lets her in. She bangs on his door for a good minute and whirls around when nothing happens. She runs into Gabe, one of the few friends of Tate she’s met.
She knows not to ask outright where he is. He’ll probably make something up for his buddy.
“Is there a party tonight?”
Still, he looks guilty, not quite meeting her gaze. He can’t exactly say no, because it’s a Friday night on a college campus, so yeah, there’s probably a party or three going on. After a while, Gabe lets out a gust of air and finally meets her gaze.
“Look, there’s a bunch of shit going on tonight, but he’s probably chilling at the Kappa house. Pre-gaming or something, I don’t know.”
She throws him a thanks and rushes away, too angry to think about maybe not subjecting herself to finding Tate’s sorry ass.
Thankfully, the trek isn’t too far and then she’s there, letting herself into the fucking house. No shouts of indignation or anything of the sort welcome her, so she simply follows the sounds of idiot boys to the living room. She doesn’t even have to look for him, he’s right there.
He looks about two seconds from passing out, high as hell with bottles littering the floor around him.
And some fucking girl sitting on the armrest, touching his hair. He’s not doing anything to encourage it, fuck barely acknowledges that there’s anyone beside him, aside from various staccato nods to whatever the fuck she’s giggling at him. Jealousy flashes through her, but she cares more about the fact that he seems to care more about getting high and fucking around in some frat house than her.
Another blond boy tries to pass her a beer but she shakes her head. Like a bad teen movie, his half-lidded eyes focus lazily on her form. She waits a beat, until she sees some form of recognition and then panic.
Biting down the urge to scream at him, she merely shrugs and whirls around, stalking back to the front door. She’s so fast she doesn’t see his pathetic attempt at scrambling to get up from his seat. Before she makes it outside, she shakes her head and makes her way to other side of the house, to nick another unopened bottle of rum before leaving for good.
She moves as fast as she can so that he can’t catch her.
***
Violet decides against drinking herself into oblivion and instead, she takes a shower to wash off the gross and reads until she passes out.
She sleeps for like two hours before harsh banging drags her out of dreamland.
Sarah must have come back at some point because she joins in the sounds after a bit, shouting for Violet to wake up. “Your fucking boyfriend is going to rip our door off. Go talk to him.”
“He’s not my boyfriend, he’s an asshole.” Violet mutters, but still stumbles out of the comfort of her bed.
She wrenches the door open and is greeted with a very shitty-looking Tate, all bloodshot eyes and sallow-looking skin. Before he can launch into some apology rant, she cups her hand over his mouth to silence him.
“Let’s take this to your room, okay?”
He nods in response, relieved that she appears willing to listen. She scoffs at the hopeful expression and leads the way. When they get to his room, he has way too much trouble fumbling with his keys that she hip checks him out of the way, grabbing the keys to unlock the door herself, and hold it open for him.
“I didn’t do anything with that girl, Vi, I swear.”
Boys. Ugh.
“I don’t fucking care about her,” Okay, maybe she did a little bit for a fraction of a second, whatever, “I want to know why you stood me up to get high with those losers.”
Tate pulls himself onto his bed, motioning for Violet to join him. She laughs at him, taking his chair instead, and angling it to face him. He opens his mouth before thinking twice, shaking his head and making some sort of decision about what to say.
“I’m sorry, Violet.”
“Not good enough. Explain.”
Tate remains silent for so long and she can’t stand it. She wants to shake him for a better answer. Angrily, she pushes herself off the chair and rushes to the door. “When you have a real explanation, come find me.”
Before she can make it over the threshold, he speaks.
“I fucked up. I had a fucking meltdown today over a phone call.” He barks out a laugh. “My coping skills aren’t the best.”
Violet is confused. She doesn’t say anything-she doesn’t know what to say at all. But thankfully, he’s not really looking for her to respond anymore.
“They’re the ones who pulled the plug and now, fucking months later, they want to play good Samaritans.” He starts crying, harsh sobs almost blocking out his words. “They re-resented her for what she had, and now they’re raising money for other kids like her? Bullshit.”
Violet stumbles over to him. She falls to her knees, hands pressing to his legs as she regards him.
“My parents-fuck, my mother and her new husband-killed my sister.”
Thoughts swirl around in her head, screaming at her, and she is a mess of confusion. She wonders if she heard wrong or if she’s simply going crazy.
“I don’t understand, Tate, please,” She pleads.
“My sister, Addie, got hit by a car last fall. They took her off life support in February. On her fucking birthday. And today my mom calls me to tell me the great news about their new charity for kids with Downs. Like she didn’t spend Addie’s entire life shitting on her for being different.”
She falls back on her ass, the weight of his words hitting her like a brick wall. Her hands clasp over her mouth and she tries to keep the tears at bay. Tate lets out a cry that breaks her heart and shakes her to the core before toppling in grief and exhaustion. Violet scrambles forward, climbing up and over him until she’s pressed behind his back, bodies flush, and her arms curled over him. She feels like she’s shielding him, protecting him from everything with her body.
Tate doesn’t say anything else. He cries and cries, letting everything out of him until his body can take no more and he’ silenced by sleep.
Violet continues to hold him, her mind keeping her awake as she analyzes everything he said, everything that has broken this boy.
***
Violet falls asleep when the sun rises. It isn’t until she feels Tate stirring that she wakes up and sees that his alarm clock flashes two p.m.
She waits until he wakes up. His dark brown eyes are so filled with remorse when he meets her gaze. He is cautious, but unable to stop himself from laying sweet, apologetic kisses all over her face.
“I’m sorry, Violet.” He murmurs in between kisses.
She shakes her head. “I forgive you. I’m still upset, but I do.”
Tate hums, no longer kissing her, but moving them around so that he is the one holding her.
“You handled it wrong, and you hurt me,” He cringes at that. “Do it again and I break your face. Deal?”
He smiles, tentatively, and nods. “Deal.”
“Good. Now let’s go get some food in you and try to fix some of the damage you inflicted on your poor body.”
***
Violet wanted to go out that evening, maybe make up for Friday’s shitshow.
After lunch, Tate still isn’t in a condition to do anything other than lie down and groan, so that plan is kind of defunct. Violet rushes back to her room to pack an overnight bag and spends the rest of the day and night helping Tate not die as he comes down from his hangover. She spends Sunday in his room, too, bringing in him soup and watching Netflix with him until they doze off.
The next week is boring, nothing out of the ordinary, and Tate tries so hard. Sometimes Violet gets annoyed by how positively sweet he is and has to cool off by herself lest she start calling his efforts bullshit to his face.
Come Friday, he takes her out, finally making good on his promise of an actual date. He doesn’t let her know where they’re going, and then they’re pulling up in front of some giant ass warehouse.
Violet thinks that this might actually be the night she dies. Maybe her pseudo-boyfriend is really a murderous psychopath and she fell into his trap.
But then she sees the flashing sign that announces laser tag and an arcade, so she pushes those thoughts aside and lets him lead her into the building. Apparently, there’s a birthday party going on, middle school children running around while a couple of adults clustered in a corner busy themselves with a brown-bagged bottle. Nice.
The rest of the place is rather empty and it only takes a few minutes to pay. They’re forced to watch a safety video, but with Tate whispering snarky comebacks for every statement, Violet spends the duration of it stifling laughs. The door to the actual laser tag arena opens and one of the little shits pushes Violet aside so hard and unexpectedly that she knocks into the wall.
Tate trips the little shit after they all suit up and are released to wreak havoc on each other.
And then he proceeds to hunt said little shit to make sure his suit’s lights are always out.
Her knight in shining armor.
They play four more rounds with those little fuckers before calling it quits. Not ready to end the night, Tate drives them a whole-in-the-wall bar he used to frequent as a freshman-they admit at eighteen and are kind of lax about who gets to have alcohol.
He makes to order them some hard liquor, but sees Violet shake her head no, so he opts for red wine. It’s cheap shit, hell, probably boxed wine, but they really don’t care. They drink, snuggled up on the same side of the booth, and listen to the folk station the owner has playing.
“Thank you, Violet.”
She hums, feeling the second glass warming her, relaxation pouring through her. “For what?”
Not leaving me like I deserve, giving me a second chance, everything, basically.
Tate doesn’t answer, pressing her closer into his embrace. They let themselves exist in this little bubble, enjoying the sensations and feelings and thoughts lazily circulating through them. At a certain point, Tate has the urge to move, get up. He drags Violet behind him until they’re outside, on the patio seating area. The music from inside barely trickles outside but it’s enough for him.
He pulls her into him and wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. She responds in kind and then they sway together, drinking in the closeness they have in these moments.
The two of them stay like that until the owner tells them to kindly get the fuck out so he can close.
They go back to campus, bypassing her dorm altogether until they stumble to his room and collapse on his bed. The high of the night stays with them and they make love slowly, carefully, as if being too rough will break the quiet, gentle joy they achieved.
Violet nods of in his arms, leaving Tate alone with his thoughts. They run through his mind slowly, but with force and clarity. He’s fucked up, he knows this, but tonight-fuck last Friday-is a turning point. He won’t let what happened with his parents dictate his life.
He’ll turn this semester and the next around, graduate, and be fucking happy with this girl.
***
After the shitstorm that was their not-first date, and the successful second attempt, they rebuild their relationship. It wasn’t quite broken, but there were cracks from mistrust and withheld secrets that they fill together over time.
Tate’s mother still calls him most days, and sometimes he’ll answer (mostly by accident because he forgets to check), which results in a screaming match and then him closing himself off.
Violet hates those days. She does her best to comfort him, help him ride through it.
It doesn’t always work and sometimes he’s cruel, telling her she’s too clingy, putting too much pressure on him, suffocating him.
One of those times, he scares her with the nasty words he used.
She tells him to fuck off or go to therapy.
He chooses the latter and she wraps him back up in her heart.
They spend the break at her mother’s house-her father is bored, halting contact with her completely, but she doesn’t care. The older woman is glowing, happy to have her baby back home, and happy to see her in love with someone she thinks can love her back properly.
Violet thinks so too.
With Violet’s support, and the encouragement of his therapist, he has a long, hard talk with his parents. When he comes back from their house, he’s lighter, and more than willing to pour his love completely into her.
She doesn’t know what happens in a few months-where they’ll be when he graduates and she still has another three years. She does know that she’s completely in love and not fucking willing to give him up, so they’ll manage to work something out.
They won’t become poetry of lost love or some shit. They’ll be alright.
PROMPT GIVEN TO AUTHOR:
1. Please List Preferred Characters and/or Pairings: langdon doing anything, tate/violet, zoe/kyle, any combo of zoe/kyle/tate/violet
2. Squicks or characters/pairings you do not want in your gift: thredson. lol the second season was so terrible
3. Possible Scenarios/Themes/Lines to incorporate: i'd love a college AU where violet and tate meet while they are both ALIVE and attending school. i feel like we were gipped this season with kyle losing his frat boy persona so quickly. i'd like angst and jealousy and smut and partying and rain and just really anything you'd like to write!
4. Youtube link a SONG to describe the overall theme you would like:
Me Vs. Maradona Vs. Elvis - Brand New -
Click to viewi love this song. it's sad and sexy and more than a little bit fucked up. it feels very violate to me.
5. Preferred Rating: MATURE OBVIOUSLY
6. Strictly Canon, AU, Doesn’t Matter?: doesn't matter