CONTENTS : : alcohol , post-breakup , reunion , reconciliation , oral (f!receiving) , p in v sex , make up sex , drunk sex
GENRE : : (slight) angst , fluff && smut
SUMMARY : : call it poor timing that your parents shipped you off for your summer internship mere weeks after serena van der wooden’s mysterious departure. what’s worse is you didn’t leave things with your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend on the best of terms.
SONG : : bye [altare remix] — ariana grande
⎯⎯ ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 i. all nate fics ii. all masterlists iii. navigation
you didn’t even want to go. your parents made a plan for you; things that were decided before you were even born. you’d go to the best school, graduate with academic prestige, frame that paper scroll like it means anything other than proof of your ability to study, and get that ceo job ‘cause that scroll says you should. because at the end of the day, everything looks better on paper.
everything has always been done for you, down to the finest details. your hair, your outfits, your friends. funnily enough, you actually like your friends. your hair isn’t bad, either; and your mom has okay taste, you suppose. you couldn’t say otherwise, anyway; since the majority of your closet has eleanor waldorf on the label.
first world problem, right? it wasn’t even really that your future was set in stone, without so much as an opinion on what color the tablecloths should be at your wedding. oh yeah, that’s all been planned, too. of course everything will be white; your dress probably another waldorf design. frilly macaroon—courtesy of paris and misery because beauty is pain. insert fancy word here: three business days long with too many accented letters. throw in a few silent ones too ‘cause it’s not hard enough to pronounce already.
brunch this, clubhouse that. just once, could one of these priggish brunches be bottomless?
you just want a voice. but it wouldn’t matter if you had one, it’s not like anyone would hear you. guests frequent your penthouse often, never the same faces twice. your father always leads them to the trophy cabinet, gushing over the plaques upon which your name is inscribed. figure skating championships ‘04, swimming gala from somewhen, tennis tournament of. . . ‘90-something? you’re his proudest achievement, of course. but he has to say that.
the davenport name still has to mean something when he no longer does. laughable, since he’s so hell-bent on your taking of the last name bass. if there’s one thing you’re not going to do, it’s have something in common with a type of fish.
with a bitter laugh, you sip from your wine. if there’s anything you love about london, it’s that you can drink at 18.
“you have way too little teeth to have an attitude of that size.” you heckle, wine sloshing in your glass as you hoot and holler alongside jeremy kyle’s live audience. how do people take this show seriously?
after a while, you begin channel-surfing. “bbc news, snore. eastenders? i’m an east-ender! well, east-sider. hmm, no.” chucking the remote somewhere behind you, you place your glass down and meander over to the tv set, opening the cabinet to peruse the movie options.
daddy got you a swanky apartment in chelsea. quite the commute from the offices, but he hired a driver to cover that. fully-furnished, you’ve got everything you need. the downside of course is that his generosity ended with the driver, so you don’t have a maid. you’re starting to grow tired of the microwaveable meals, too. there’s only so many lukewarm carbonaras a girl can take.
“dirty dancing? seen it. godfather? don’t get the appeal. the devil wears prada? she certainly does. pretty woman? thanks.” you shuffle through the selection until you come across the friends boxset. you purse your lips, then sigh and turn the vcr on. “it’s one of those nights.”
another two glasses later, you’re arguing with the tv. “they weren’t on a break!” with a shake of your head, you reach for the bottle. empty.
groaning, you pad over to the kitchen and tug open the wine fridge, only to find that empty also. “what? no way.”
the tiled floor plays victim to the wrath of you fluffy sock-clad stomps as you march back to the couch and flop down with a performative sigh. the episode has since finished, the main menu prompting you to switch over to the next one. “fine. this is the one consistency in my life right now, anyways.”
you jab your finger onto the play button and sink deeper into the cushions. ross starts to whinge about rachel’s 18-page letter again and you roll your head from side to side with a tut. “what the hell are you complaining about? you’re the one who slept with that copy place whore! rachel let you off easy. . . i would’ve gone all ‘hell hath no fury’ on your phd ass!”
okay, so maybe it hits close to home. except, you and nate actually were on a break, right? still, did it have to be serena? with a huff so strong that it blows a gale-force wind onto the stray hairs across your forehead, you snatch your cell from the crack between the couch cushions.
you and blair talk most days, sometimes even skype. she’s always the first to comment on your myspace uploads, usually to compliment your outfit or express jealousy over the pictures you post of iconic landmarks and local cuisine.
serena’s been radio silent since she went mia, and chuck texts next to never but that’s still more than what nate’s been giving you. if he’s been giving you anything, it’s the cold shoulder. the last time you heard from him was on your way to jfk airport. you remember the exact words that displayed across your cell’s little screen.
‘good luck in london. keep safe.’
that was a month ago.
you frown at the memory, and before you acquire the inner-strength—or inner-growth—not to, you find yourself clicking through your old photos.
skipping through the ones of you and serena, which for some reason, you don’t have the heart to delete; you finally stumble across the ones you’re seeking. with a wistful smile, you tilt your head and take you time flicking from one to the next.
selfies of you and nate smiling up at the camera occupy the small screen. some are silly, the two of you pulling funny faces; while others are more serious, the two of you mid-kiss or gazing lovingly at one another.
a single tear frees itself from your eye, gliding down the soft slope of your cheek like a raindrop on a window. he was your golden boy, the one with whom you were meant to spend the rest of your life. your parents wanted you to marry chuck, and still do. but nate always promised he’d never let that happen.
“look at us.” you hum, your vision blurring from the tears. “we had no idea.”
raised voices from the tv startle you and you flit your attention back to it. ross and rachel are amid another breakup, this time because ross preached to the choir that they were indeed on a break.
“i can’t,” you let out a shaky sigh and turn the tv off. “i can’t watch anymore.”
snapping your cell shut, you rise from the couch and begin making your way to your bedroom when a frenzied knock at the door stops you in your tracks.
frowning, you retrace your steps back across the living room and unlock the front door before cranking it open. your pulse quickens as you peer around it, mouth falling agape. “what are you doing here?”
nate shuffles nervously and clears his throat. “i had to see you.”
all you can do is stand there and stare, your words—if there are any—failing you.
nate pockets his hands and starts to rock back and forth on his heels. “can i. . . come in?”
after a moment’s hesitation, you move aside and allow him to step into your apartment. pulling the chain back across, you slowly turn to face him and fold your arms defensively. “we live in the 21st century, you know. if you wanted to see me, you could’ve video called. flying across the atlantic is a bit much, don’t you think?”
he rubs the back of his neck, then takes a cautious step nearer. “that’s not the same. i needed to see you.”
you want nothing more than to run into his arms and have him hold you forever. it takes everything in you to refrain. it’s strange, ever since you arrived you’ve wished he’d turn up on your doorstep. now that he’s actually here, you kind of wish he’d leave. with a slow blink and an even slower exhale, you undo the chain again and open the door, pointing out into the dark hallway with a manicured finger.
“okay, you’ve seen me. off you go.”
his face falls, those big blue eyes threatening to drown you in their sea of sorrow. “no, not until i’ve said some things. i. . . i’ve got a lot of things i’d like to say, if you’ll please just hear me out.”
you look away, scared you’ll crumble beneath his desperate gaze. “i can hear perfectly fine over the phone. this couldn’t be a phone call?”
“no, it couldn’t.” he stands firmly in place, but still appears unsure of himself.
you can’t say you’re not curious, and no matter how mad at him you might be, you’re not about to throw him out after he’s travelled halfway across the world to say his piece. so you finally relent, pushing the door to a close before brushing past him to take a seat on the couch.
he stays glued to the spot, looking over at you like he’s lost. with a small smile, you pat the space next to you. he smiles back, his expression hopeful, and lowers himself to sit beside you. when his knee bumps yours, you subtly scoot away, to which you swear you see him wince at what he must assume to be rejection.
“i’m all ears.” you say, trying to sound nonchalant when you’re in fact about to burst at the seams.
he nods and takes a thick swallow, his fingers flexing pensively. “well, first of all, i want to say how good it is to see you.” the confession is softly-spoken, his eyes even softer when they flicker up to land on yours.
“yeah, well. . .” you trail off with a shrug, suddenly enamoured with the skin around your nails as you pick at them.
his feet shift and he lowers his head to rake his hands through his mousy hair. when he looks up again, his face is overcast. “i, uh. . . i’ve missed you.”
“could’ve fooled me.” you mumble. “good luck in london, keep safe. really?”
he gives you an incredulous look. “if i’d begged you to stay, would you have? when has that ever worked before?” he scrubs his fists against his eyes. “i wasn’t sure you’d even respond, which was fair, ‘cause you didn’t. you couldn’t at least let me know you’d landed?”
“well, evidently i did.” now fiddling with the hem of your tank top, a loose thread makes itself known and you yank it out, then let it float to the floor.
nate watches the action with pinched brows, his eyes following the thread on its journey through the dense air that divides you. “don’t be like that, please. i’ve been worried about you. i try to ask blair and chuck how you are, but blair’s pretty much iced me out and chuck either pretends not to know or likes to see me suffer. you have no idea how hard things have been—”
“aw, why? did your girlfriend sleep with one of your best friends?” you snicker cruelly when he shamefully diverts his attention back to the floor. “oh no, wait. . . that was you.”
“hey, we weren’t together then, remember?” his voice ups in volume, but not in anger. waves of sadness roll beneath it, like you’re the tide that reels it in.
“whatever. the breakup was fresh, nate. you waited, what, 24 hours? one day and you were already fucking my closest friend.” you scoff and trap your bottom lip between your teeth, fighting the urge to break down in sobs.
there’s a pause before he speaks again. “it was a one-night stand. i didn’t plan it, i certainly didn’t go looking for it, and to say it was unexpected is an understatement. i mean, jesus, i was wasted! i barely even remember it. i was miserable ‘cause the last place i wanted to be was at a damn wedding. then i headed to the bar to drink alone but blair had already sent serena there to sober up, ‘cause that’s where you go to do that apparently.” he pauses, lets out a huff, then glances around aimlessly before continuing.
“she was on the bar top throwing her legs around, and i thought she might fall so i tried to steady her. next thing i knew, she was in my lap. i was still shitfaced and hardly knew my own name. then she started kissing me and. . .”
he stops himself, aware of his rambling and your probable desire to hear no more about it.
you rub your forearm, feeling the goosebumps that have arisen there. “and. . .?”
“and,” he starts, swiping a hand along the curved arch of his stubbled jaw. “and there’s nothing in my life i’ve regretted more. i. . . i think about it all the time. not because i like to, but because it’s what cost me you.”
“you’d already lost me.” you tell him, and as the words roll off your tongue, they leave a bitter taste. it hurts for you to say because it simply isn’t true. he hadn’t lost you, but it felt like you lost him.
nate’s head whips in your direction rather sharply, expression heavy and pained. the statement obviously punched him right in the gut. a physical punch would’ve hurt less. “really? so before you found out about serena and i, our relationship didn’t stand a chance?”
of course it did, but you won’t let yourself say it. “nate—”
“we were great together.” he argues, taking both your hands in his. his grip is firm and assured, and you’d forgotten how much you missed his skin on yours. his touch. “regardless of how much i sometimes wish i wasn’t some rich, privileged kid. an archibald. i’m also glad to have led this life, because this life gave me you.”
his thumb traces random patterns against the back of your hand, then he gives your wrists a squeeze, directing your gaze back to his. your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, like you’re seeing him for the first time again.
“that night meant nothing to me, because what happened didn’t mean anything. it was stupid and if i could take it back i would, but i can’t.” his eyes search yours pleadingly, remorseful and brimmed with longing.
you retract your hands, a chill coursing through you at the loss. “i just don’t know.”
“what do you need me to say? that i love you?” he teeters his body toward yours, his arm draping over the back of the couch. “because i will.”
your lips part, your tongue poking out to wetten the plump flesh. his eyes dart down, pursuing its path. “i. . .”
they linger there, then wander up the bridge of your nose until he’s staring into your eyes again. your stomach spins, but you blame the wine.
you do want to hear him say it, but refuse to give in.
“tell me what to do.” he murmurs, and you almost don’t notice his hand slip back into yours until it scorches you, snatching the breath right out of your lungs like a hiccup.
“if i do, i won’t be able to resist you.” it’s humiliating to be so raw and honest. vulnerability looks good on no one. it’s so tacky. “i can’t get hurt again, nate. it almost killed me.”
that kills him, just when he thought he couldn’t feel bad enough. “stop trying so hard.” he whispers it, the words wafting over your skin—a ghost of a kiss, velvety like the ones you used to share. “i love you.”
there it is. three little words, eight little letters. they take a bite out of your soul like the very first time he uttered them, all those years ago.
“nate—”
his lips cover yours, swallowing his name as your mouths slot together perfectly like the two remaining pieces of a puzzle. you want to pull back, be that strong independent woman you’ve been trying to embody since your leave, but you surrender to him, your bodies melting together as you kiss him back.
you feel him nip at your lower lip, asking for better access. it’s then that you break the kiss with a slight pop, head fuzzy. “i’m drunk.” you admit, dragging your thumb around the edge of your damp, slightly kiss-bitten mouth.
he smiles. “me too. made a pit stop at a pub for some dutch courage.”
your heart drops like a penny in a quiet room. “oh. you couldn’t have meant any of it then. . .” it’s probably paranoia, but you can’t quench the nagging feeling that this was all too good to be true. or maybe you’re dreaming again? “people do things they don’t mean when they’re drunk, you especially.”
he grimaces at your implication. “what’s that saying? ‘a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts’? i promise you i was sober when i bought that plane ticket, and sober on the flight over here when i was praying it wouldn’t be for nothing.”
that’s good enough for you. unwanting to hold back any longer, you grab his face and smash your lips against his. it takes a moment for him to reciprocate, surprised at your sudden forwardness, but his strong arms soon surround you, molding your body to the form of his.
you find yourself on your back soon enough, nate hovering above you as his kisses roam south of your lips to your chin, then lower. a contented sigh escapes you and you can’t fight the grin that spreads across your face. “i’ve missed this.”
“me too.” he mumbles against the skin that peaks out above your tank top. “and i’ve been meaning to make things up to you.”
he flashes that signature smirk, the one that makes you weak at the knees, and slowly pushes your top up to reveal your breasts, his hand skimming your waist on its way up.
you let out a moan when he lowers his head, his mouth hot as he leaves wet kisses upon your flushed skin. your giggles fill the room, his teeth grazing your pert nipple as he suppresses a laugh of his own, then he plants his chin between your breasts to peep up at you.
“someone’s comfortable.” you beam, running a hand through his ruffled hair before gripping hard.
his eyes flutter shut, then his face disappears again, nose nuzzling like he’s trying to motorboat you as eloquently as one can. “best seat in the house.”
“i dunno, i can think of a better one.” you arch your brow pointedly at him, then punctuate the hint by pushing down on his head.
his eyes light up and he smiles broadly at you, holding eye contact as he descends the length of your body, worshiping it all the while as he scatters kisses in his wake. he leaves one right on your hip bone, then eases your sweatpants over your thighs and past your knees until they’re a crumpled heap on the floor.
you nibble at your fingertip when he rears up to shed his shirt, flinging it sidelong to join your sweats. you seize the opportunity to appreciate him from his sculpted arms to his toned stomach. he gives your calf a gentle pinch when he catches you staring, but his face tells you he’s enjoying the attention.
“no matter where i am, you always give me a room with a view.” you purr, your tone jesting despite being deadly serious. he wrinkles his nose at the corny comment, but can’t help an amused snort. you lift your leg to skate your foot down his front, stopping at the front of his jeans where you curl your toes and apply some light pressure.
he groans, head tipping back. you exaggerate a pout when he takes hold of your ankle, placing it on his shoulder instead, then reaches for the other to do the same.
you allow yourself to relax, anticipation bubbling in your core as he situates himself between your legs, his soft breath a cool contrast against your heat. he hooks his fingers under your panties, but when he makes no attempt to remove them, you crack an eyelid to find him looking up at you in question. you smile sweetly and nod your head.
his lip quirks and he doesn’t waste another second, peeling them away to expose you entirely.
“stop torturing me!” you tease, his tardiness winding you up.
“this is what you get.” he kisses your inner thighs, his hands curling around them to pull you closer to his face. “for leaving me.”
you clamp them around his head with a playful frown, but you let out a yelp when he nudges your center with his nose. “alright, alright. i can be patient, i guess.”
he hums, taking a moment to admire you before flattening his tongue to rest snugly between your folds. your breath comes quickly, your chest heaving as he drags it upward to flick and twirl. the initial serenity of having his tongue on you again only lasts until he purses his lips around your clit, sucking harshly. your fingers clench into his hair, knuckles paling when he doesn’t relent, releasing with a crude pop before probing it with his tongue’s tip.
your moans become strangulated, their pitch increasing when his hands meander upward to fondle your breasts while his mouth travels further down. the twin sensations narrow on your spine, back arching of its own accord once his tongue enters you, his nose replacing its earlier focus on your clit.
“nate. . .”
“hmm?” it vibrates against you, his stubble caressing the undersides of your thighs in the most delicious way.
“come here.” you demand, breathless.
“don’t think i can get any closer.” he rasps, lapping at you before licking a long, tedious stripe back up through your folds.
you groan, head slamming against the arm of the couch. “come here.”
he chuckles against you when you dig your nails into his shoulders, raking your fingers all the way up his arms to where his hands massage your chest.
“please.”
your voice is angelic and he almost comes right there and then. your whimpers are what he was hoping he’d be hearing tonight, after all. not your cries. well, not the sad kind, anyway.
“since you asked so nicely.” he surges up with a cocky smirk, catching your mouth in another heated kiss. its intensity floors you, and he takes advantage of your throaty gasp to snake his tongue inside, searching for its mate. they tangle together, messy and uncoordinated.
growing increasingly impatient, your hands slither between your bodies to fumble with his belt, eventually unbuckling it. you bend your legs and use your feet to force his pants down, your hands preoccupied with palming him through his boxers. his hips buck against you, his mouth leaving yours to suckle urgently at your neck.
he positions himself, lifting his head from the purplish mark he’s sucked onto your skin to look down at you with a fondness that almost melts you. your hands yank his boxers down, his cock springing free to burrow against your slit. you both jolt at the contact and your hands come up to cup his cheeks. he leans into it, rolling his hips slightly so he slides through your folds.
he twists his head to kiss your palm, then your wrist, and props himself on his elbows as he pulls his hips back to align himself. you lock your legs around his slim waist and he shifts his weight onto one arm to secure your hip with one splayed hand.
no words are needed, your eyes doing all the talking as you gaze at one another, not even breaking eye contact when he slowly pushes into you. your legs tighten around him, his fingertips cutting into the supple flesh of your curves.
you were sleeping together for the entirety of your relationship, and you crossed that line even before you became romantically involved, giving yourselves to each other as best friends. but this time feels different. it’s potently intimate and your heart skips at the realization.
as if he can read your thoughts, he smiles adoringly at you and pulls halfway out a few times, then sinks all the way back in. you stay like that for a short time, neither one of you moving while you spread feather-light kisses over each other. eventually, you grind up against him, silently asking him to move.
so he does, finding a pleasing rhythm you can both match as his lips alternate between your neck and mouth. he maintains a deliberate pace at first, each pump dragging torturously within you until you reach around him to claw at his back with need.
he releases your hip to cradle your head, picking up speed as he starts to thrust a little more forcefully. he presses further against you, deepening the angle. your jaw drops and you moan a little louder than intended, then lunge forward to claim his lips again.
his chest rumbles appreciatively, reverberating against you as you rock together on the couch, consuming each other’s cries of pleasure. your teeth clash a few times but neither of you care, losing yourselves in the moment as the flow of his rhythm loses its precision and becomes more frantic.
you mirror him, meeting his thrusts midway with your own. the tenderness remains with the raw addition of desperation and a month’s worth of yearning as you both near the edge, and you mewl into his panting mouth when he slams into you a little roughly.
he breaks the kiss to look at you with wide eyes and your heart swells at the mild concern that dashes across his features, then pull his face back to yours, keeping him there with a hand on either side of his sweat-damp neck.
when the pent-up emotion hits you, so does your climax, and the ecstasy of it carries in your voice to ring off the walls. it doesn’t take long for his release to follow, his pace slowing but not stilling completely for a few transcending moments.
you hold him to you while you collect yourselves, your legs trembling around him. unable to hold himself up any longer and not wanting to crush you, he shifts himself onto his side, slipping out of you as he does.
your brows furrow at his absence, almost saddened by the way you feel yourself shrink without him to stretch you out.
once you’ve both caught your breath, you turn to look at one another, your foreheads knocking together. his blue eyes shine at you, crinkling at the corners.
“what the hell are you laughing at?” you grin, practically giddy.
he slings his arm around your midriff, tucking you more snugly against him. “i’m not! i’m smiling. i understand that’s what people do when they’re happy.”
you giggle girlishly, still riding the waves of your immediate afterglow. there’s no high quite like this. “me too, that was nice.”
“just nice? well, damn.”
he squirms when you jab him, then twists at the waist when you find the ticklish spot just above his ribs. “nooo, mercy!”
“fine.” you yield, turning onto your side to snuggle up to him and nestle your head into the crook of his neck.
his other arm wraps around your shoulders and his presses a kiss to the crown of your head, then inhales the familiar scent of your hair. “you, woman, are a wicked sorceress.”
you scoff, smushing your cheek more cozily against his skin. “please. you love me.”
“i do.” he gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“i love you too, nathaniel archibald.” you whisper, suddenly shy as you drape your leg over his and play your fingers across his chest.
“so. . . come back to new york with me?” he implores, reaching down to run his hand up your bent leg and over your thigh.
“my parents will kill me if i don’t complete my internship.” you sigh, now missing manhattan even more if that’s possible.
“well, we can’t have that, can we? guess i’ll have to stay here a little longer, then.”
⎯⎯ ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 note : : uh, why are there barely any fics for this man? he’s so beautiful. can we all lock in please? i need MORE. nate girlies unite!!
Serena van der Woodsen who uses her status to get you into every party you could ever possibly want.
Blair Waldorf who protects you from Vanessa, Jenny, Georgina- anyone and everyone who could potentially be seen as a threat to you.
Nate Archibald who's always there for you if you ever need anything, whether that be a shoulder to cry on or just a friend.
Chuck Bass who lavishes you with the most expensive gifts possible, ones that he knows nobody else would ever be able to afford.
The Non-Judging Breakfast Club loving you and obsessing over you and needing you to be theirs and theirs alone, regardless of whether you want to be or not. After all, you're not the one who gets to make the decisions here, they do.
Chuck is tired of seeing you with Nate while he treats you like shit, knowing he'd treat you right.
warnings: Angst, drinking, cussing, reader referred to as "Pretty Girl" and pet names, no use of Y/N, hitting, kinda happy ending, idk.
Chuck sighed, taking another swig from his bottle. His eyes stared across the room, watching as your arm clung to Nates, eyes looking up at him like he's your whole world.
Nate barely even looked at you, giving you half-assed glances here and there to show he's "paying attention" as you talk to him, too busy focusing on everything else.
It pissed Chuck off.
As he swallowed another gulp, he realized his beer was empty. He tossed the bottle into the trash and grabbed a new one from the cooler, just wanting to drink his feelings away.
Later, as he followed some random girl into a nearby bedroom, he glanced over and saw you and Nate pressed up against a wall, tongue down each others throats.
-–—— · ——–-
Chuck woke up with a pounding headache, looking over he saw the tossled sheets from last nights mistakes.
Still, they were empty.
He rose out of bed, throwing on some pants and a button up, loosely putting on a tie to match.
He yawned, slumping into his bathroom. He looked into the mirror, grabbing his brush and lazily combing through his messy hair. He looked at the eye bags under his eyes, sighing.
He pulled out his phone, checking the time, at least he won't be late for school. The last thing he needed was another disappointed lecture from his father.
A new post popped up from Gossip Girl,
"Golden boy and Pretty girl spotted in town square park, arguing. Could this be the end of our fairy tale couple?"
Chuck couldnt believe his eyes. He couldn't stop the small grin tugging at his cheeks.
On his walk to school he was met with Nate, going down the same sidewalk they always went down. He saw the males upset attitude. He barely even glanced at Chuck, just staring at the sidewalk instead.
"So uh.." "Yeah. I know. Everyone knows."
Nate interrupted him, sighing. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly upset. Chuck stared at him as they walked "Are you two..done dude?" He felt a slight glimmer of hope and had to drop the smug smile on his face as his friend looked at him.
"I- I don't even know.. I, she..I don't even think I want it to work out." He told Chuck, scrubbing a hand down his face.
Chuck shrugged, "Your parents aren't gonna like it." "I know that too, Chuck. Don't remind me" Nate gritted through his teeth. "She's not even worth it. She's always, you know, wanting more and I-"
Bass quickly looked at him as he rambled on, what the fuck?
He felt a twinge of anger at Nates words. Trying not to get annoyed as the boy complained more about you. He didn't even say anything when Nate cheated on you. He pushed it down.
But now? Hearing Nate go on and on, talking about you in a way you absolutely don't deserve. He quickly spoke up,
"You're right. Maybe its not meant to be. Maybe you should break it off." He threw the idea out, hoping maybe Nate will take the bait.
"I can't do that. My parents would-"
"Man who gives a shit what your parents would do? Don't let them run your life." Chuck urged him, finally settling on a "I'll think about it" from Nate before he gave up.
He patted his buddie on the back as they arrived at school.
Later at lunch, he went out, looking for you. Chuck didn't spot you sitting on the steps with your girlfriends,instead he saw you alone, sitting at an empty table, sulking.
He came up, smug grin on his face. "Hey princess," you slowly looked up at him, rolling your eyes, "What do you want Chuck?"
He laughed, "I came to see how youre doing, duh" you didn't laugh back. You slumped back down.
"So..between you and Nate-"
"We're fine." You quickly cut him off. He raised an eyebrow, "sure doesn't seem like it.."
"Its gonna be fine. Me and him- we- we're supposed to work out!" Your voice cracked, words laced with heartbreak and doubt.
Chuck sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. You immediately shrugged him off, "Don't touch me."
Chuck scoffed, "I'm just trying to help.." He looked at you. You laughed, but it wasn't genuine. "I dont need help, it'll be fine, I should just forgive-"
"He doesn't deserve it." Chuck said, unusually serious. You looked at him "I'm surprised you're not trying to tell me how amazing Nate is and-" "why would I?" He cut you off again.
You rolled your eyes again, "because you're his best friend" you said as if it was extremely obvious. Chuck stared at you.
You stopped as you seen the look in his eyes.
"Oh no no no no-" you stood up, rambling. "This- No chuck. Me and you. I-" Chuck stepped closer, "Why not?" His eyes bore into yours.
"Be-Because me and Nate-" "Fuck Nate, he doesn't give a shit about you!" You took a deep breath. "No. I- No." You said before running off.
Fuck.
Chuck threw his hands in the hair.
-–—— · ——–-
Chuck took another swig of his drink. A repeat of last night. Why not? Its not like today is gonna be better. Its already worse.
He felt a bump as his limo rolled over a pebble in the road. He leaned back in his seat, his driver kept driving.
His attention was caught off guard when he glanced out his window and saw an unsettling sight. You and Nate. On a street corner.
Screaming at each other.
chuck asked his driver to stop. As the limo slowed he got out. He saw you lightly push Nate as you both argued.
He stepped between the two of you. Nate gave him a confused look. "Dude-" "Chuck! This isn't your fight-"
Nate glanced at you, "What is she talking about?" He looked st Chuck again, you didn't acknowledge Nates question, "I told you Chuck.."
"You two talked?!" Chuck glanced at Nate, "Yeah. Yeah we-" Nate looked at you. "Oh of course! You just had to go be a bitch and-"
Nates words were cut off when Chucks knuckle collided with his jaw, knocking him down.
"Don't call her that!" Chuck straddled Nates chest as he punched him again. "Don't call her that!" Another hit. "Dont-"
"Chuck!"
He glanced up at you, his voice softening significantly, "I got it. He shouldn't be-"
"But I love him!"
Chuck paused, jaw twitching. Buy he didn't stop. He kept punching. Over and over. Until a cop had to drag him off Nates half busted up face.
"Get off me! I- I'm Chuck Bass-" the officer shoved him into the back of his car anyway.
A phone call and a bail from his father. A disappointed lecture. And he was in his bedroom again.
He was on his bed, rubbing his sore knuckles when he heard the doorbell. He slumped up.
He walked to the door and answered it. He saw you there, at his front door, crying.
He didn't laugh, didn't smugly grin like usual. He just wrapped his arms around you as you collapsed into his arms.
He felt your tears soak his shirr but he didn't care. "You- You were right chuck. I..he-" "shhh.." He whispered, rubbing your back, gently pressing his lips to your forehead.
"I got you."
You slowly looked up at him with teary eyes. You two stared at each other for a moment before he slowly kissed you. Not messy and rushed like he did all the other girls when he hooked up with them. Sweet. And soft. Like he meant it.
He did. He meant every second of it. He wanted you. Needed you.
Can I request a Chuck bass x male reader fic where Chuck is trying to spoil Reader for thier anniversary but since Reader grew up poor they won't let Chuck buy them anything too crazy but will let Chuck buy them a nice necklace that Chuck lied about the price and then they go out to a fancy dinner and have a beautiful date.
all the money in the world
⫘⫘⫘ chuck bass x poor!male reader
⫘⫘⫘ fluff
under the fractured illumination of the crystal chandelier above, you've never felt more out of place in your entire life. your 50% off loro piana loafers just feel wrong against the red carpet covering the entire dining space adorned in thick velvet drapes, white table cloths, and flickering tea lights.
"you alright? you look like you've seen a ghost." chuck's deep and raspy voice never failed to penetrate your insides and stay there, warming up your fast beating heart. he looked up momentarily from the menu book before refocusing. "they have lasagna here. sort of. it's your favorite, just elevated from the brooklyn streets."
"a— alright, i'll have that." you breathe, fiddling with the sleeves of your navy blue blazer you just borrowed from a friend. it makes your shoulders looks two sizes bigger, but it's the only thing you know could at least match chuck's polished look.
chuck finally drops the menu, his sharp eyes narrowing to examine you. "hey, breathe. nobody's gonna pounce on you here, except for me, probably." he snickers before standing up. "i told you to come as you would. you didn't have to dress up and borrow someone's clothes, apparently." he made his way to you.
"but—" chuck presses his finger on your lips as soon as you protest.
"hush baby boy, i have something for you." he motions for a waiter to hand him a bright red box with the label cartier embedded in gold letters. "was supposed to give this to you after the date, like most dates actually are, but seems like you need something to distract yourself."
"chuck," you say his name with disappointment and possibly guilt. every other person in the upper east side would be fighting to wear something like the contents of that box. but you made it clear you didn't want to receive anything too expensive at the start of your relationship. not when you were just six months together, and all you were is a strugguling artist moving from one stage to another without a clear view of tomorrow.
"relax," chuck sighs. "serena was about to throw the box away. i didn't actually buy you a cartier necklace," he reveals a silver chained necklace with a gold star pendant inside, shimmering as it caught in the light. "i saw this somewhere in the street. its as cheap as it gets. but symbolic."
you reach out for it, heart caught in your throat while you gently touched the pendant. it was cold, yet full of life. you knew it didn't come from some streetside vendor— chuck would be caught dead buying from one. and you saw the exact same necklace being sold for more than your salary as a part-time ice cream scooper.
but the fact that he even cared to lie means so much more than the necklace itself. you smile up to him, meeting his gaze full of anticipation. "thank you so much chuck. i can't— it's the best gift i ever recieved in my life."
"it better be, love." chuck bent down to whisper into your ear. his breath hot against your ear. he places a hand on your shoulder, finger idly drawing circles. "i'm chuck bass. i'll always give you the best." he takes the necklace from your hands and brings it around your neck with a soft click. it rests easy on your chest, like it has always belonged there.
you lean into him when he kisses your cheek, feeling like you mean more to him more than ever. he motions for the waiter to take your orders, speaking with so much certainty that easily captivates you.
when the waiter leaves, chuck gazes at you, then your necklace, and up your eyes once more. "you've always belonged to me, pretty boy. but now it's official."
"why do you like me?" the question comes out sudden. too vulnerable. you immediately want to take it back.
chuck is stunned at first, but then he smiles brightly. "because all the money in the world wouldn't be able to buy who you are. your talent. your determination. and those cute cheeks of yours. and you're worth more than all my businesses combined." he leans forward. "you're the kind of person i want to have in my life. one that makes me feel lucky."
and in that moment, you knew exactly what he meant. because you feel the same for chuck: his smile, his words, his time. all priceless. and you made a promise to yourself that you'll always make him feel like the luckiest man in the world.
Warnings: mentions of drug/alc use, sexual themes, smut, and angst
Summary: This fanfiction is based off the series “Gossip Girl,” and puts you into a perspective of being one of the main characters in the series as yourself. You are one of the idolized Upper East Side teenagers, and it only started because of Nate Archibald. What will happen to your friendship over the next years of high school and college?
Themes: fluff, angst, smut(characters are 18+), friends to lovers, friends with benefits, slightly possessive Nate, high school/college life, underage smoking & drinking, undefined relationships, jealousy, yearning, tension, Nate is bad at feelings
*** This story is a SLOW BURN. It begins to pick up around S2. Anything before the Season 2 timeline is mainly backstory, but I would highly recommend reading it. It gets juicy around their senior year for reference, I promise it’s worth it ;)
part 1 timeline: pre-gossip girl - late season 2 word count: 15k
read part 2 timeline: season 3 - early season 5
read part 3 finale - season 5
I do not own any of the original characters or the plot. This fiction is purely inspired by the show. This was all copy pasted from a word document which is why it might be formatted weird. I also wrote this in high school so my writing has changed…
(Skipping over many plots, changing some plots, excluding several canon Nate relationships, ex: Jenny, Vanessa, Serena etc)
Y/N L/N = Your Name & Last Name
Y = First initial of Your Name (ex: when Serena calls Blair “B”).
Title is inspired by “Knew Better / Forever Boy” by Ariana Grande hehe ifykyk. The lyrics will be featured throughout the story in pink
Backstory
You are Y/N L/N. The daughter of one of the most successful immigrant parents on the Upper East Side. Your parents immigrated to New York City when you were just three years old. Otherwise, they brought nothing with them but hopes and dreams.
You spent your childhood in Queens whilst your parents worked overtime at their jobs. They did their absolute best to provide for the family and save money. Your childhood was made up of bodega trips and subway rides. One day, your mother and father made a sudden investment in one of the biggest and most popular Broadway theaters in Manhattan. After that, it didn’t take long for the money to start pouring in. Your family decided it would be best to move to Manhattan to be closer to the theater before you started middle school.
Diamonds & Limousines—what more could a girl want? It took a while for you to adjust to your new lavish life. Your parents were quick to put you into a private middle school on the Upper East Side, where you were introduced to stuck-up children that were born with Tiffany around their necks. Other than the pristine uniforms, your classmates showed up to school with designer bags and accessories that cost more than your family’s previous rent in Queens.
For the first year of middle school, you stuck out like a sore thumb. You showed up in your plain uniform with no additional accessories. Kids whispered every time you walked by. No one knew of you and your family. That was until your family earned enough money to buy the theater and renamed it under your family name. They began to invest into theaters across New York and even out of the state. Your family became known philanthropists and investors on the Upper East Side. People approached you more, but you were hardly interested.
—
Pre-Gossip Girl, 2005(?)
In your final year of middle school, you were accustomed to the Upper East Side life. You started to learn how to fit in, bedazzling yourself every morning before school with expensive jewelry and headbands. You borrowed your mom’s purses and stuck your school supplies in them. Even though you looked chic and polished at school, it soon became the opposite of your home life. Your parents were fighting without end. They had gotten so distracted with their new costly and lush lifestyles that they abandoned what mattered most; their marriage. They ended up filing for divorce before the spring, which quickly drove your perfect grades and attention span to the ground.
You were cutting class alone, sitting in an alleyway near your school. You were too distracted thinking about your home life to attend class. You began to hear footsteps approaching you. You looked up and saw two of the most popular boys in your grade. They were laughing amongst themselves and stopped when they saw you.
“And who is this?” The first one questioned with a raised eyebrow, scanning you and your uniform. He had messy brown hair and a piercing gaze.
Before you could speak, the other one interrupted. They were both cute, but this one stood out to you. His brown hair was pushed back, exposing his strong, thick eyebrows and his icy blue eyes.
“She’s Y/N L/N. Her family owns the L/N theater, right?” He asked softly. You swore his eyes sparkled.
“Yes,” you responded simply, but shocked that he knew you. “And you guys are…?”
The first one scoffed, “I’m Chuck Bass.”
“Nathaniel Archibald, you can call me Nate.”
You simply nodded, not really wanting to engage in any more conversation with them.
“Ah, Mommy and Daddy splitting up, is that right?” Chuck asked amusedly.
Before you could spit out an insult, Chuck pulled something out of his pocket.
“Don’t worry, we all got family problems. Which is why Nate and I are here to spark up. Now are you going to just sit there and mope around in your misery, or are you going to join us?”
What looked like a poorly rolled joint was sitting between Chuck’s fingers as Nate scrambled for the lighter.
“Is that… weed?” you asked, innocently.
“Yup,” Nate responded with a promising smile. “Just try it once; it’ll make you forget all your worries.”
Nate held the lighter up to the end, and the joint lit up, emitting the earthy smoke into the city air. Chuck took the first few puffs and passed it onto Nate as you watched. Nate soon passed it to you, where you confusedly held it between your fingers and looked at the two boys blankly.
“Oh, come on, you’re wasting our green, L/N,” Chuck rushed.
“Chill, man. It’s her first time,” Nate protested calmly. “Just hold it up to your lips and inhale it like you would with a fresh breath of air.”
Following his directions, the rolled paper hit your lips, and you inhaled the smoke. Exhaling, you began to cough. Nate patted your back as Chuck urged you to be quiet. It didn’ttake long before a wave of calmness rushed over you and the thoughts in your head went silent. You took another hit before passing it back to Chuck.
“So, what do you think?” Nate asked.
“Feels great,” you replied casually, giving them both your first smile.
—
Summer approached as your middle school years finally came to an end. Your parents were officially divorced, and you spent your weeks rotating between their penthouses. Soon, smoking with Nate and Chuck became a regular occasion. During school or after, they often invited you to their smoke sessions. You got to know more about the privileged boys, and they got to know more about you. It was the last day of school, and you found yourself in another rotation with the two boys, sun gleaming on the three of you.
“You know, Y/N, you should come to our graduation party on Friday,” Nate suggested, mid-hit.
Chuck nodded in agreement. “Never been to a party before, L/N?”
You shook your head.
“Well, our good friend Serena and my girlfriend Blair will be there—that way you can make some trustworthy girlfriends before high school.” Nate beamed.
The two most popular girls in your grade. You would be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by them, but you desperately wanted to experience true Manhattan girlhood.
“Alright, I guess I’ll come. I suppose I could use some friends other than the two of you,” you replied.
—
In the middle of the Waldorf’s penthouse stood the four, drinking champagne and awaiting your arrival. The place was full of students from your grade, celebrating their departure from middle school.
“So, you two actually successfully befriended a girl?” Serena teased. “I didn’t think you two were capable of that!”
“I personally refuse to believe it until I see her with my own two eyes,” Blair admitted. “But a girl from Queens? Really?”
“Come on, Blair, give her a chance. You’ll really like her,” Nate assured.
The elevator door binged, and you walked in, taking in the grand decor and the buzzing atmosphere. You looked around for the people who invited you and finally spotted Nate waving at you. Contrary to your prior belief, you were greeted kindly by Serena and Blair. After introducing yourself, they even engulfed you in a hug. Chuck and Nate smirked at each other with success; they knew this was the beginning of a long-term friendship.
—
Fall 2005
You, Serena, and Blair were a powerful trio at Constance. After spending the summer together before your first year of high school, you had accepted the two as your closest friends. Of course, you didn’t forget about Nate and Chuck. But the girlhood you shared with Blair and Serena became special. You learned how to put your pretty privilege to use because of them. From Blair, you developed your own mischievous antics, and from Serena, you grew charm. You quickly became an idolized Upper East Side teenager.
That’s when Gossip Girl started. A blog made by a mysterious online user that uploaded every tip sent in regarding the lives of rich teenagers in Manhattan. These blasts were aimed at your closest friends. Soon, they didn’t hesitate to include you. But Blair and Serena had taught you how to rule the school regardless of the blasts.
The four took you in like family, and it had you fitting into Constance like no other.
—
Summer 2006
It was the summer before sophomore year, after everyone came back from their foreign vacations. Fall time was around the corner, but you were all invited to a grand wedding on the Upper East Side, giving you some time to party for the last seconds of summer. The Sherpard’s wedding, one of the wealthiest couples in Manhattan; somehow your family name had automatically guaranteed you an invitation.
You couldn’t care less about another rich couple, so the four of your friends had to convince you to come. It was an opportunity to dress up and help yourself to free cocktails and delicious food, so you did exactly that.
When the reception came around, it didn’t take long before you and your friends ended up separated. One too many drinks had you wandering off the dance floor and exploring the lavish hotel.
You found yourself stumbling tipsy into an open room, decorated with antique, rustic furniture, and an empty bar. You couldn’t help but notice the faint sound of giggles and movement coming from the bar downstairs, so you approached the balcony with curiosity. What you saw next changed your entire perspective of the Upper East Side.
You peered over the balcony, which revealed Serena Van der Woodsen and Nate Archibald making out and having sex on the bar top. Blair’s boyfriend and her best friend. Your jaw dropped, heartbroken from what you were seeing.
You quickly reached for your phone in your pocket, ready to snap a picture of the shocking scene. However, you soon felt a hand clamp over your mouth, your phone snatched out of your hands, and you were led you back into the hallway. The person turned you around and lightly pinned you against the wall. It was Chuck.
“You can’t tell anyone about what you just saw, Y/N,” Chuck exclaimed in a low voice. He took his hand off your mouth but didn’t let you leave.
“What?” You said, gasping for air. “Why not? If it didn’t occur to you, that’s Blair’s best friend and own boyfriend having se-“
“I know!” Chuck interrupted. “But it’s not our business to get involved. It is up to Serena and Nate to tell Blair, not us.”
“How do you know they’re ever going to tell her?”
“They will, trust me,” Chuck said firmly. “Plus, how do you think Blair is going to react when you tell her about it? She’s not going to see you as a savior. She’s going to think you’re trying to ruin her life, especially since you have no evidence.”
“Because you ruined my chance of getting any evidence!” you spat.
“As much as I love drama, what you don’t understand is that the Waldorf’s and the Archibald’s have a serious deal going on. If their relationship ends, it’ll be a big issue; it’ll hurt their image.” Chuck explained. “Now, you never saw any of this. Are we clear?”
“Well, what’s in it for me?” you scoffed. “My silence isn’t free. Especially when it involves one of my closest friends and cheating.”
Chuck sighed. “You’ve got to be kidding me-“
“You know, I could really use a bag. Specifically, a Birkin, Hermes. One big enough for all my textbooks.” You smirked up at him, thinking it wouldn’t work.
“Fine,” he huffed. “You’ll have it by the end of the week, and you’ll forget this ever happened. Now, let’s go.” He put his hand on the small of your back and returned you to the party.
You looked back at the balcony for the last time and tried to swallow all of your regret.
It’s old news that on the Upper East Side, you can’t trust everybody. But it looks like our new so-called humble princess, Y/N, is turning into one of them.
—
Fall 2006
It was the beginning of the sophomore year, and Serena Van Der Woodsen was nowhere to be found. No one had seen her since the night of the Shepard’s wedding. Turns out she randomly decided to go off to boarding school. It was difficult for you to act normal around Blair and Nate, constantly fighting the urge to blurt out the truth. You knew it was morally wrong to keep it a secret; it was eating you up inside. But you didn’t want to be the one to cause a mess on the Upper East Side, so you remained silent.
One person who couldn’t be bothered by the excitement of autumn was none other than Blair. She was devastated. Her best friend decided to “Irish goodbye” everyone, and her boyfriend was strangely distant. Besides her minions, she only had you to lean on. You, who knew the truth behind it all.
—
Spring 2007
Your parents were so busy with work, you couldn’t remember the last time you sat down and had dinner with any of them. Your grades weren’t the best, and Gossip Girl posted multiple pictures of you cutting class.
Almost a whole school year has gone by without a peep from Serena. Time passed with scheming and convivial parties with Blair and her minions, and of course, smoke sessions with none other than Nate and Chuck.
You came from a meeting with your algebra teacher after trying to desperately raise your grade. You were too embarrassed to ask either one of your parents to get a tutor for you. He simply laughed at you.
You furiously rushed out of his office and texted Chuck and Nate.
You and Nate waited for Chuck in the same alleyway as usual, and you couldn’t decide if the silence was awkward or if it was just you.
“Something on your mind, Y/N?” He asked hesitantly, looking straight at you.
“It’s my teacher. I swear he has something against me. He makes me feel so dumb,” you sighed. “I just cannot fail this class.”
“Hey, you're not dumb,” he said, “I took algebra two last semester and I wasn’t too bad. I can help you.”
You hesitated. “Oh, no I wouldn’t want to take your time up like that, I can get a tutor-”
“I have nothing to do besides playing video games with Chuck later honestly,” he interrupted with a laugh. “Seriously, we can defeat your stupid teacher.”
“Uh- okay. Sure! That would be helpful,” you said. “We can just meet in the library later.”
“Sounds good!” He beamed.
Both of your phones binged. “From Chuck, ‘Can’t make it anymore, sorry. Rain check tomorrow?’ Damn it.” Nate sighed
“I guess that means we can just go to the library right now?” You hesitated.
“Yeah, and sober too I guess,” he joked.
--
You and Nate had been at the library for the last two hours going over your course material. He taught you with patience and provided you with detailed notes—something that your teacher had failed to do. If you got a problem wrong, he always scooted closer to you which made you feel uneasy. You tried to scoot farther each time, but at this point, he was hovering over you from his seat.
“You’re doing a great job,” he smiled softly.
Your study session quickly came to an end the moment you heard the click of a cellphone camera. You froze; yet your cheeks began to heat up at the realization.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Nate asked with worry.
“I just realized, I have to go,” you began to pack up your things. “Thanks for tutoring me, it was so helpful!” You practically ran out of the library, but it was not long before your phone buzzed, and so did the others around you.
#e-blast 219
Spotted: Golden Boy and our Humble Princess getting cozy together in the library. Did they really think they could get away with their flirty antics on school property? Looks like they need some tutoring on their planning skills. Does Queen B know about this? Well, she knows now.
1 attachment IMG
xoxo, Gossip Girl
--
Summer 2007
A week has gone by of Blair blatantly avoiding you. Besides the fact that you passed your algebra class and all of your other ones, sophomore year ended a bore for you. For Blair, she was able to successfully climb up the Constance Queen ladder while keeping her messy life hidden. You couldn’t lose your friendship with Blair over some false rumors.
Dorota had let you in with a warm smile, offering you a seat and some tea while she called for Blair.
She must have forgiven me if Dorota still likes me, you thought.
Heels clicked on the top of the stairs, and you felt a lump in your throat. Yes, she was your friend—but she was still Queen B.
“Oh,” she uttered with surprise.
“Blair, that blast is nothing what it looks like,” you started. “Nate just offered to help me-”
“Y/N, it’s okay,” she took a deep breath. “I just needed to blow off some steam for some time, nothing personal! Nate told me the truth and I believe him. I know you guys are friends. I just cannot believe Gossip Girl would do that to me.” She pouted.
“Oh my God, Blair,” you sighed of relief. “You should’ve texted me or something!”
“Ugh, Y, I’ve just been so infuriated with everything lately,” she sobbed in defeat. “Gossip Girl trying to tear apart my relationship was the last thing I needed!”
Blair pulled you into a warm hug. “I’m sorry I avoided you. I can’t lose my friendship with you,” she frowned. “I had to do it for my minions... but I’ll make it up to you! Dinner at Nobu tonight?”
“Sounds amazing, B,” you smiled. “I’m glad we’re okay again.”
--
Fall 2007
You four were gathered at the Waldorf’s before Eleanor’s penthouse party began. Blair was busy trotting around the house throwing out orders while the three of you were awaiting her room-- stoned of course, while watching a movie.
“Did you guys see that Serena’s back?” Nate blurted suddenly.
You and Chuck both visibly paused. The two of you glanced at each other, taken aback by the fact that the first one to talk about it was Nate.
Before any of you could speak, Blair stormed through the doors.
“Where did you see that? Who told you?” She demanded.
“Blair-!” Nate stuttered. “I- I saw it on Gossip Girl!” He flipped his phone around, showcasing the blast, followed by a picture of her best friend at Grand Central Station today. The rest of you hurriedly gathered around Nate’s phone to see before Blair snatched it out of his hands. She nearly huffed at the sight.
“Didn’t she tell you that she was coming back?” Chuck wondered out loud.
“Wh- what kind of question is that?” Blair spat. “Of course she told me-! Now if you don’t mind, I have a party to attend to—which started, by the way.” She handed back Nate’s phone before turning on her heels and stomping away.
The three of you exchanged looks; you all knew that was a lie.
“Blair, wait-!” After hesitating, you got up and ran after her, leaving the two boys behind.
By the time you got downstairs, the house that was bare an hour ago was suddenly filled to the brim with New York’s top socialites, philanthropists, designers, and journalists. Waitresses walking around with trays of the finest champagne and photographers were snapping every corner of the Waldorf’s penthouse. Quickly enough, people were stopping you for pictures and questions.
You waved through the sea of the Upper East Siders, but Blair was nowhere to be found. Sparkling champagne in hand, you went back up the stairs in hopes to find her back in her bedroom but halted when you saw Nate standing at the top.
“Serena!” He called in excitement.
He was then interrupted by the Blair’s door swinging open, where Blair then engulfed Serena in a long-awaited hug. However, Serena was quick to end the reunion and ran down the stairs before you stopped her.
“Serena, you’re back!” You exclaimed, reaching out for her.
“Y/N!” She pulled you into a hug. “Listen, I really have to go, but we’ll catch up later, okay?”
Everyone watched as she bolted down the stairs and headed towards the elevator.
--
January 2008
It’s the new year and this year, Upper East Siders are leaving old drama for last year. Especially Blair, looks like her personal relationships are stronger than ever. Some might say stronger than the bar top that Nate and Serena were on two summers ago.
Despite the past, Serena was back at Constance and ruled the school with you and Blair once again. Junior year was filled with more than just piles of homework and illegal school parties, but also full of juicy secrets.
You were at a party with Blair and her minions when Blair pulled you aside with fear etched upon her face.
“Y/N,” she swallowed. “I fear I’ve made a big mistake.”
“What is it, Blair? Whatever it is you did, I’m sure we can fix it-”
“No, Y, this is unfixable,” she whispered. “I slept with Chuck Bass.”
You started to choke on your cocktail, and Blair rapidly patted your back, urging you to lower your volume.
“Don’t tell anyone!” She hissed lowly, “and don’t mention anything at your little smoke sessions.”
“Blair,” you started firmly while cleaning yourself up. “I wouldn’t tell a soul. But, why?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “It was after Nate couldn’t tell me that he loved me and I ended it with him. I found Chuck and he was listening to me... and—dancing with me.”
“What?” You gasped. “B, when did this happen?”
“Three months ago. But Nate found out yesterday and we’re over... officially.” She cried.
“I’m sorry, B. But you deserve a man who truly loves you,” you reassured her.
--
Spring 2008
#e-blast 521
Cherry Blossoms are blooming along with the romance on the Upper East Side. Except for our one and only, Golden Boy. Who will be the one to capture his heart before the summer? Or will he be departing from New York City with just one boarding pass?
And don’t think we didn’t forget about our Humble Princess. Not once has she been captured with a man to warm up her cold relationship with her parents. Poor Y. Looks like Daddy issues will be the only new thing that she’ll be spotted with this summer.
xoxo, Gossip Girl
--
Though your family has been split apart for quite some time, your father decided he wanted to separate it further. He completely left New York unannounced, leaving your mother completely in charge of everything your family had in the state.
You were sitting at a bar alone on a Friday night, trying to escape the wrath of your mother since she had begun to take out her stress on you. You were staring at your phone, reading the blast over and over again. How did she know about this?
You took another shot before someone approached your seat. Musky Dior cologne overpowered your tequila-infused breath. It was Nate. Since he and Blair broke up, seeing him outside of the school day was rare. Chuck and Nate were a sinking ship; your smoke circle that had been going strong since middle school parted. You hadn’t seen him forever.
“She got you too, huh?” He said with a playful smile, followed by a deep sigh. “May I?”
“Nate-! Of course,” You exclaimed, startled by the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”
“Bemelmans's is my favorite place to drink away my feelings,” he chuckled. “Which I can see you’ve already beat me to.”
You busted out laughing, earning a bigger smile from Nate. “Not something I’m proud of. Gossip Girl is right, you know—about me.”
“Ah, don’t worry, she’s right about me too. And I know a thing or two about her declaring daddy issues.” Nate laughed sadly. “You can always talk to me, you know?”
You sighed. Even though Nate was your very first friend, you couldn’t see him the same way after what he had done to Blair with Serena. But the liquor started to take control of your actions, so you began to spill your life’s problems to the man.
He was attentive to your rant, nodding and comforting you with words of reassurance. You two ended up sitting at the bar and chatting for hours until the Bartender announced that they were closing for the night. Nate paid your tab without you even realizing it.
“Alright, you ready?” Nate asked, offering out a hand which you took, stepping off the barstool. “I’ll call my town car.”
You let go of his hand, wanting to stand on your own. However, you immediately began stumbling, causing Nate to catch you in his arms. You looked up at him and felt those blue eyes burning into you. Both of you paused before he helped you straighten up.
“Easy now, Y/N,” He giggled, holding onto you like you were fragile glass. “I’m not too sober myself.”
The two of you made it outside, the cold air hitting you suddenly. Nate’s town car was making its way down the street, and you took a deep breath of realization.
“You know, Nate- I can just make it home myself... I'll call a cab right now!” You began. But before you could get closer to the street to hunt down a yellow car, Nate grabbed your arm.
“No, Y/N, it’s not safe,” he said firmly. “I insist on taking you home.”
Before you could protest any more, his town car came to a stop in front of you. Before his chauffeur could get out to open the car door, Nate waved his hand. He quickly walked in front of you and opened the door, motioning for you to get inside.
Once you took a seat, you gave a bright smile to the chauffeur inside. Nate followed and closed the door behind him. The ride to your place was full of thick silence. It was, however, comforting to both of you. Nate was looking out the window when he suddenly broke it.
“Y/N, I’m glad I met you all those years ago,” he turned his head to look directly at you.
“Hm, I could say the same, Archibald,” you peered up at him, smiling. “You changed my life. More-so by introducing marijuana into it.” You joked, earning a large laugh from him.
“Mm, best decision I’ve ever made,” he stirred with a grin.
Suddenly, it felt like the walls of the limousine were caving in. The leather seats began to feel like they were burning your skin. The lights of the city outside became darker. Your head was dizzy with the scent of cologne and liquor. Without realizing, Nate was closer to you than ever. He slowly lowered his head towards yours and closed his eyes.
You panicked. You couldn’t do this to Blair—even if they were broken up.
“Really?” You blurted, clearing your throat. “I-I think you inviting me to the graduation party might’ve been better.”
Nate opened his eyes slowly with his gaze fixed on you. The distance between the two of you remained small. Before he could say anything, the limousine came to a stop.
“Miss Y/N, your stop.” The chauffeur announced after sliding the divider open.
You thanked the driver and began to gather your things. “Well, this is my stop-”
“Let me walk you to your door, Y/N,” Nate interrupted.
“No, it’s okay, Nate. You’ve done enough for me tonight,” you forced a reassuring smile.
“Thank you for everything-!”
Before he could continue, the chauffeur was already holding the door open for you. You rushed out quickly, briefly thanking him before you dashed into your building.
You suddenly felt sober as you scrambled into your bedroom.
If you didn’t want it, then why did your heart feel so heavy?
--
Summer 2008
You decided to spend your summer in the Corsia, France, thousands of miles away from your mother, Gossip Girl, and Nate. Blair and Serena came to visit you for a few weeks in July, where you visited Paris together for endless clubbing and shopping. Summer was rich with jet skis, bikinis, and mimosas. You had totally forgotten about your life back in New York and what happened before you left. You even had a countryside French boy wrapped around your finger which had your mind in full distraction mode. He was sweet, romantic, and dreamy. For the first time in years, you were seen outside of Upper East Side labels.
However, summer was quickly coming to an end. While your French boy, Leo, had to face the reality of letting you go, you had to face the reality of your last year of high school. Blair and Serena begged you to come to the “White Party” held annually in the Hamptons before the start of school. While you hesitated, you eventually agreed to attend.
--
August 2008
You were lounging by the pool with Serena and Blair, catching up on everything you all missed over the summer. Blair was in the middle of sharing details about her summer when Chuck approached the three of you. She began to boast about her fake summer fling, James, while you and Serena reciprocated her energy.
When it was your turn to share your vacation details, Nate walked up to all of you. You paused in the middle of your sentence. It was your first time seeing him since he drunkenly tried to kiss you last Spring.
“Hey guys-” Nate started, before he locked eyes with you. “Oh- Y/N! How’s it going? I haven’t seen you all summer- I didn’t know you were in the Hamptons!”
Unnoticed by the two of you, Serena, Chuck, and Blair exchanged looks with each other. It wasn’t common for Nate to ramble.
“Hey Nate-! I just got here actually,” you replied simply. “I was in France all summer.”
“Which she was talking about before you so kindly interrupted, Nate,” Blair hissed. “Now, continue! Did you meet any French boys?”
“I did, actually,” you admitted sheepishly. “He was dreamy.”
Blair and Serena immediately erupted into giggles and begged you for more details, while Chuck and Nate took it as a sign to leave.
After the coast was clear, Serena blurted out, “Y/N, what was that?”
“What was what?” You asked with genuine confusion.
“That!” Blair interrupted. “With Nate! A knife couldn’t even cut through that tension.”
Serena nodded in agreement, and they both looked at you waiting for answers.
You busted out laughing. “I have no idea what you guys are talking about. There’s nothing between Nate and I,” you shrugged. “We just haven’t seen each other in a while, that’sall. Now, more about Leo.”
--
Fall 2008
The beginning of Senior year was nonetheless chaotic. College applications were creeping up, and everyone was scrambling to get their lives together before being released into the real, adult world.
You were at one of Blair’s elegant rooftop parties mingling with a few girls your age before Chuck approached you.
“Excuse me ladies,” he interrupted. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to steal Y/N for a moment.”
The girls walked away when Chuck ushered you into a secluded corner.
“Chuck, looking to get a fresh breath of air?” You asked playfully, making a smoking motion with your two fingers.
“Unfortunately, not right now,” Chuck muttered. “You know, Archibald is having an affair with that woman over there.” He pointed towards a tan skinned, 40-year-old bombshell.
“What?” you nearly choked on nothing. “Do I need glasses? You mean that smoking hot piece from the 70s?”
“Yes,” Chuck stated firmly. “She’s also the stepmother of Blair’s boy toy, Marcus. Now, as much as I love hot middle-aged women, I’m concerned for Nate. He’s doing that thingagain.”
You scoffed. “And why am I supposed to care? And since when did you? Maybe he’s just trying something different.”
“Sure, but this is illegal, Y/N.” Chuck said sternly, which earned a laugh from you.
“Chuck Bass caring about something illegal? What was in your drink?”
Chuck tilted his head and began to analyze you. “Well, you’re remarkably uninterested,”
“I am uninterested,” you stated.
Chuck watched you for a second longer before straightening himself. “Well, he’s pretending he’s fine. You’re pretending you don’t care.” He smirked faintly. “I’m curious to see which act ends first.”
Before you could answer, he walked away. Leaving you with nothing but your thoughts.
--
After continuing to socialize with Upper East siders and journalists, you decided you needed to get some actual fresh air and headed for the door. You stood outside, jacket hanging off your shoulders while you took in the authentic beauty of the city.
“Escaping already?”
You turned. Nate stood a few feet away, expression unreadable.
“Just needed some air,” you replied.
He nodded. “Same.”
You eventually fell into step beside each other, quietly observing the scenery of the buzzing, autumn afternoon. It felt comfortable and easy.
“So,” he started after a moment. “How was France?”
You glanced at him, a bit surprised. “You already asked me that.”
“Not really,” he suggested. “You gave me the extremely short version.”
A smile tugged at your lips. “It was good. It was my first time in France, actually.”
“Yeah?” He asked with a grin. “Was it everything you hoped for?”
You nodded. “Definitely.”
“Good.” He studied you for a second, like he was trying to picture you in France.
“You having fun tonight?” You asked.
He hesitated before giving a shrug. “Trying to.”
His honesty caught you off guard. “Trying?” you repeated.
“Trying to get things right,” he explained. “I need to make better decisions.”
Without any context, you still felt the weight of Nate’s problems.
“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” you reassured gently.
“No,” he agreed. “Just harder than I thought.”
For a second, he looked like the younger version of himself. Like the Nate you knew before things got complicated- before pressure was put onto all of you.
“You’ll figure it out, Nate. You always do”
Nate met your eyes then, and something shifted. Not dramatic. Just a flicker of recognition. Another beat passed before he simply nodded.
“Just don’t disappear again, okay?”
You giggled slightly. “It was summer.”
“Still,” he gestured.
You felt a buzz in your pocket, pulling the both of you back into the present.
“Oh- it’s Serena calling,” you announced. “I should get back to the party…”
“Well, I’ll see you later, Y/N?” He asked instead of stating it.
“Yeah,” you replied. “Later.”
You walked away first, with Nate’s eyes lingering onto you. Not romantically. Not intensely. He just didn’t want to lose track of you again like he suddenly did over the summer.
—
It was late at night when your phone began to buzz. The screen read Nate’s name. You stared at it for a moment before answering.
“Hey, Nate-!”
Silence on the other end, then followed by a quiet exhale. “Are you busy?”
You glanced at your open laptop; notes scattered across your desk.
“Uh- no,” you said. “What’s up?”
Another pause.
“I don’t really know,” he admitted. “I just... needed to get out.”
“Where are you?” You asked, voice softening without realization.
“Outside,” he replied. “A few blocks from yours, actually.”
That surprised you.
“Can we meet up?” He added quickly. “If that’s okay.”
You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to, but because this used to be automatic. Now, it felt like a choice. But Nate was your friend, and it was your duty to be there for him.
“Yes,” you replied finally. “Give me five minutes.”
--
When you found him, he was leaning against the brick of your building; hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tense.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” you observed out loud.
He let out a low-energy laugh. “I haven’t.”
The two of you started to walk together without a destination.
“What happened?” You asked.
He shrugged. “Everything.”
You frowned at that but waited for him to continue.
He glanced at you. “You ever feel like you’re trying to fix yourself and somehow making it worse?”
“All the time,” you said, earning a faint smile from him.
“I thought dating someone would help,” he admitted. “Thought I’d stop screwing things up.”
“And did it?”
“No,” he looked down at the ground. “I just felt more disconnected from everyone.”
A beat passed.
“Except you,” he added quietly.
You didn’t respond right away. The air felt heavier now.
“You don’t try to get anything out of me,” he continued. “You just… show up.”
Your chest tightened at that. You used to show up without thinking. Now you were choosing to.
“That’s what friends are for, Nate,” you replied softly.
You both walked further in silence. Then he asked, “Have I been messing that up too?”
“What?” You said, caught off guard. “No, Nate. You just... disappear sometimes.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’ll work on that.”
You put a hand of comfort on him and gave him a small smile. “I know you will.”
He returned the smile and another pause passed between the two of you.
“I’m glad you called,” you added.
He looked at you in surprise. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you reassured. “Now, wanna smoke some?”
He laughed, the sparkles in his eyes making a return. He slung his arm around your shoulder and the two of you began to head towards the park. “Of course I do.”
He reached for you because he needed steadiness, and you gave it to him. Everything felt back to normal again.
--
Winter 2009
It was the New Year, and the end of 2008 took a dramatic turn of events. It had been a few months since the passing of Chuck’s father, Bart Bass. You and your friends tried everything you could to be there for him. Nate had been busier than ever; his father was in jail, and his best friend was battling grief. The end of senior year was coming up which meant you soon would all be attending different schools. Blair and Serena were butting heads about Yale. Chuck and Nate were fighting over Blair’s heart. You, on the other hand, had your heart set at Princeton University.
You had just left lunch with Blair and were headed to your next class. Your phone began to buzz in your pocket, and it read an unknown international number. Out of curiosity, you picked up after hesitating.
“Hello?”
A familiar, soft voice, coated with a thick accent. “I wasn’t sure this was still your number,”
It was none other than your French boy from the summertime, Leo. Your breath caught and you stopped in your tracks. “Oh my god.”
A warm laugh on the other end. “Hello, Y/N. How are you?”
“Hi Leo,” you said, still processing. “I’m good. You?”
“I’m in New York for a few days,” he said. “I thought... maybe we could see each other.”
Your heart skipped with nostalgia. “I’d like that.”
--
Spring 2009
e-blast #872
Wakey Wakey New Yorkers, Gossip Girl here. Prom is just around the corner, and our favorite Upper East Siders are scrambling for a date. Rumor has it that Golden Boy and our Queen B are conviently back together right before the special night. We’ll see how long that lasts.
xoxo, Gossip Girl
--
It was springtime once again, but it was the last one at Constance. The pressure of prom was quickly building up. Couples were forming and everybody was asking who was going with whom. Blair was planning everything; from the moment you’d put the dresses on until the moment you’d leave the building.
Leo had only shown up in New York briefly a few months ago, but from then on, you’d frequently call and video chat. However, something was different compared to last summer. Last summer you felt giddy and poetic with him. Now, it just felt surface-level. You kept talking to him anyway because he entertained you; he was someone to talk to. Plus, it looked like you had your own story with an international boy on Gossip Girl.
Nate and Blair were going together, and Serena had Dan. Chuck claimed that he couldn't care enough to even show up, but you knew that was a lie. He just didn’t want to see Blair without him. You were the only one left without a date, and it was only time before Gossip Girl found out.
It was late at night when you were on video chat with Leo. He couldn’t help but notice your distracted and stressed expression.
“Something on your mind, Y/N?” He asked.
“Yes,” You sighed. “It’s prom.”
“Why?” Leo titled his head in concern. “Oscar De La Renta didn’t get you right?”
“No,” you laughed wryly. “My dress is perfect. I just... don't have a date.”
“What? How can a gorgeous girl like you be without a prom date?” He questioned, stunned.
You simply shrugged.
“So... should I come to New York?” He asked, a smile creeping on his face.
The day that all girls on the Upper East Side have waited their whole lives for is finally here. You, Serena, and Blair all had a sleepover together the night before. You three woke up bright and early, ready for a day full of glam and giggles.
Leo picked you up from the Waldorf’s at 7 o’clock on the dot, perfectly matching the color of your prom dress with a corsage in hand.
“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he admired you, extending his arm out to you. “Shall we?”
You finally arrived at Constance after your candle-lit dinner with Leo; arms linked together. Your school didn’t look like a school anymore. Everything shimmered -- gold lights draped from the ceiling, music soft and echoing; laughter floating around. For a second, it almost felt like summer again. But that feeling didn’t last.
As you walked through your classmates further, the air got thicker. Familiar in a way that made your shoulders tense before you even realized it. Everyone looked perfect — Blair wearing the dress of her dreams, Serena glowing like she belonged in every room, Chuck watching instead of participating, and Nate… Nate standing beside Blair, handsome and composed and just slightly removed, like he was playing a role he hadn’t fully memorized.
You told yourself not to stare.
Beside you, Leo said something — something charming, something warm — and you nodded, smiled, did everything you were supposed to do. But it soon felt like you were watching the night through glass. Close enough to see everything clearly, too far to actually feel part of it.
The music shifted, slower now, something soft enough that people began pairing off without thinking. Leo held out his hand with that same easy smile you remembered from the summer, and you let him pull you towards the dance floor.
His hand warm at your waist, your fingers resting against his shoulder, the lights dim enough that the room blurred at the edges.
“You’re quiet,” he murmured.
“Just tired,” you said, offering a small smile.
He nodded, accepting it, but the conversation slipped away after that. The both of you swayed more than danced, the space between you filled with things neither of you knew how to say. Around you, laughter rose, cameras flashed. It felt like standing in the middle of something bright and loud while being wrapped in silence.
Suddenly, the music cut, replaced by the sharp feedback of a microphone. All of a sudden, Serena and Chuck appeared next to the two of you.
“Prom King and Queen… Nathaniel Archibald and Blair Waldorf!”
Their names echoed through the room, swallowed by applause. They stepped forward together, fitting perfectly in the way they always had — polished, familiar, expected. Cameras flashed, people clapped, Serena whooped loudly, and Chuck watched, a proud expression on his face after he quietly announced that he rigged the votes.
You felt Leo glance at them, then back at you.
“They look like royalty,” he said quietly.
“They always have,” you replied.
The cheering faded back into music. Couples returned to dancing. The night moved forward.
And suddenly the room felt too warm, too loud, too close.
The dreaminess of it all cracked just enough for reality to slip through.
You pulled back slightly. “Leo, I think I need some air.”
The hallway outside was cooler, quieter, the music reduced to a dull pulse through the walls. You pressed a hand against your temple, letting yourself breathe for the first time all night.
For a moment, you considered leaving. Just slipping out, calling a car, disappearing before anyone noticed. But you reminded yourself that this was one of the last memories at this school, so you went back.
Inside, the room had shifted — louder, dancing messier, people less posed and more real. You scanned the area for Leo when you spotted him by the punch bowl.
He stood near the edge of the dance floor, talking to another girl, her hand resting lightly on his chest as she laughed at something he said. And he laughed back -- relaxed in a way he hadn’t been all night.
There wasn’t anything wrong with it. There was nothing to call out. But your heart sank anyway. You recognized that version of him -- the one who fit, who didn’t have to try, who didn’t look like he was visiting someone else’s life. And slowly-- painfully, you realized he’d looked at you like that in France. Not here.
What you two had last summer was real. It also had been temporary. You realized that so were the two of you together.
--
You pushed the exit doors open, and a rush of cool air hit you. Outside, the night felt steadier. The noises of the city finally let your shoulders drop. You gathered the edges of your long dress and took a seat on the stair steps. You were mindlessly staring into the street before a voice interrupted you.
“Thought I’d find you out here.”
You looked up. Nate stood a few steps down, hands in his pockets, tie loosened, crown nowhere in sight. He looked… normal. Not prom king. Not Blair’s date. Just Nate.
“You say that like I disappear at every social event,” you said.
He huffed a quiet laugh, stepping up to sit beside you. “You do.”
“Only the bad ones.”
“This counts as one?” He asked, looking back at the school.
You peered up at him, avoiding the question. “Blair let you escape?”
“We broke up.” He said it simply. No drama, no bitterness — just tired honesty.
Your chest tightened. “Tonight?”
“Couple days ago,” he said. “We were just… pretending for a while. For prom. I think we both knew.”
You nodded slowly. It made sense.
“You okay?” You asked.
He let out a breath, staring out at the street. “Yeah. I mean… I care about her. I always will. But it felt like trying to be someone I used to be.”
Those words hit you closer than he might have realized. You gave a soft, understanding smile. “I get that.”
Silence settled between the two of you— comfortable, familiar. The kind you’d fallen into a hundred times growing up. After school, after parties, after everything.
“Everything okay with you and…?” He trailed off, not finishing the sentence.
You looked down at your hands, smoothing small wrinkles from your dress. “I think we liked each other better in France.”
He nodded like he understood immediately. “Different version of you, huh?”
“Different version of everything,” you said.
He leaned back slightly, hand resting on the step behind you. Close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, the familiar pull of his presence. It shouldn’t feel like this. It was supposed to be easy with him. Friendly. Safe. But something had shifted.
“You know,” he said, softer now, “you always come back.”
You looked at him. “Back where?”
His eyes held yours a second longer than usual. “Here. Me and you.” The words hung there.
Both of your hands brushed against each other as you adjusted your dress. Neither of you pulled away immediately. The contact lingered — warm, familiar, charged in a way it had never been before. You both noticed. You both pretended not to. But the air between them changed.
He stood first, offering you a hand. “We should probably go back before Serena sends a search party.”
You took it. And for a second, neither of you let go.
Not until the doors opened and the noise spilled back over the two of you, breaking the moment.
--
When you re-entered the school, everything suddenly felt different. The music was louder than before, people were messier- less posed. Leo was nowhere to be found; however, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You wandered off in an attempt to find Serena or Blair, but it was too crowded.
Soon enough, the night began to wind down. People were grabbing their belongings, taking off their heels, and calling their cars.
Once again, Nate found you near the exit.
“Y/N,” he called, stopping you. “You headed home?”
You paused. Home suddenly felt like it would be too quiet. It felt too final. “I think so,” you sighed lightly.
He opened the door for you and together, you headed back outside. The both of you walked together before you huffed a large, noticeable exhale.
“Some kind of night, huh?” Nate asked.
You nodded and looked towards the street. “I just- I’m not ready to be alone yet.”
He looked at you, not surprised. Not pushing, just open for listening.
“You can come over,” you thought aloud. “If you want- I’ve got… a bottle somewhere. We can decompress or something. I don’t know.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Okay.”
—
The ride back was quiet in the way only late nights in the city could be — streetlights streaking past the windows, the hum of traffic low and distant, both of you staring ahead like the night hadn’t fully settled yet. When you reached your building, you hesitated before unlocking the door, glancing back at him like you were still deciding if this was real.
Inside, everything felt calmer. You kicked off your heels by the door, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all evening. Nate dropped onto the couch like he’ddone it a hundred times before.
After you grabbed two glasses and a bottle of wine from the kitchen, you settled onto opposite ends of the couch, the distance comfortable at first. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp and the soft glow from the window, the city stretching out below you.
For a while, you talked about nothing. Prom being chaotic. How weird it felt seeing everyone dressed up like they were already adults. Who had changed, who hadn’t.
Then the conversation slipped, deeper without either of you pushing it there.
“Do you ever feel like we skipped something?” you asked quietly, turning the glass in your hands. “Like we went from being kids to pretending we know what we’re doing overnight?”
Nate leaned back, exhaling slowly. “All the time. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and feel… like I’m actually the person everyone thinks I am.”
You let out a soft laugh. “I don’t think anyone knows who they are yet.”
“Maybe you do,” he said.
You shook your head. “No. I just know where I came from. And sometimes it feels like I’m still trying to figure out if I actually belong here or... if I just learned how to act like I do.”
“You’ve always belonged,” he reassured. “Even before any of this.”
The words landed heavier than he probably meant them to.
“You know,” you said, voice quieter now, “I think tonight was the first time I actually felt how much things have changed.”
Nate watched you for a moment before answering. “Yeah. Me too.”
Your eyes met, and this time neither of you looked away right away.
There was something different in it — not the easy familiarity you always had, not the automatic comfort. Something warmer. Like you were seeing each other without all the noise around you two for the first time in a long while.
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “We used to sit like this all the time and it was never… this complicated.”
“Nothing was complicated back then,” he said.
The space between you two felt smaller now. Charged in a way that made you aware of everything — the warmth of his shoulder, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you.
Your hand shifted on the couch, brushing Nate’s by accident. Neither of you moved.
The contact lingered, light but electric. You felt your breath catch, just slightly.
Nate’s gaze dropped to where your hands touched, then back up to your face, searching for something. Time seemed to slow.
He leaned in first, slowly enough that you could stop it.
This time, you didn’t.
Instead, you closed the distance, meeting him halfway. And when your lips finally met, it wasn’t sudden. It felt inevitable.
It wasn’t gentle. For a half a second, it was hesitant, unsure. Then something in both of you quickly gave in.
You felt his hand come up to your jaw, not carefully, just instinctively. He pulled you closer like he was afraid this moment would end if he didn’t hold onto it. Your fingers grasped his shirt, gripping without thinking.
The kiss deepened quickly, messy and searching. It wasn’t smooth. Your breaths tangled, timing off, the kind of kiss that came from wanting more than knowing how to handle it.
You leaned into him, and he responded immediately, like he’d been waiting for permission he didn’t realize he needed.
It felt needy in a way that surprised you — not just attraction, but relief. Familiarity; the comfort of someone who already knew you.
He pulled back just slightly, forehead brushing yours, breath uneven.
For a split second, it could have ended there. Instead, you closed the space again.
This time the kiss landed deeper, less hesitant, hands moving without thought — you gripping his sleeve, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you two at all.
When you finally pulled apart, it was only by a few inches. The air between you felt different now; charged with the awareness of what you’d just crossed into. Neither of youspoke.
You could still feel where his hand rested at your waist, warm and steady, like it belonged there. Your fingers were still tangled in his shirt without you realizing.
“That was…” Nate started, then stopped, letting out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“Yeah,” you agreed softly.
He searched your face, cautious now, like he was trying to read if you regretted the kiss, if this had been a mistake, if he should step back. But you didn’t pull away.
Nate rested his forehead lightly against yours, breath uneven. “We don’t have to—” he started, the words carefully, like he was giving you an out.
“I know,” you said quietly.
You answer his wandering eyes by leaning in again, closing the small distance between you and him. He returned the kiss, deeper, but calmer this time. You break apart only long enough to breathe.
“Are you sure?” He murmured.
You nod and answer by tugging at the hem of his shirt, hands shaking just a little. He watches you like he’s ingraining the moment into his brain, then reaches for you too. He cups your face gently, brushing your skin slowly with his fingertips.
Fabric slides, hands fumble, two hearts pounding loudly in a quiet room. The distance between you disappears completely as you kiss again. Moments later, your dress and his suit were suddenly slipping off and falling somewhere to the floor, forgotten.
His lips slowly trailed off yours, following a path down your neck and to your breasts. You throw your head back in pure bliss, soaking in the feeling of Nate marking your skin. Your quiet apartment was now filled with wet noises and breathless gasps. Your hands wandered over his unclothed body, feeling up on his muscles and broad shoulders that towered over you.
His hands snuck behind your back, giving you a look of permission before you nodded. You soon felt your bra unclip as he continued to kiss all over your body. He paused for a moment, eyes scanning your exposed figure.
“Fuck,” he exhaled. “You’re beautiful.”
Before you could react, he engulfed you again with a sloppy kiss, prying his tongue into your mouth. You corresponded, fighting his tongue with yours and merging saliva. Lips still connected, he put his hand on the back of your head and gently laid you down on the couch as if you were made of glass.
Your shaky hands found themselves on his crotch area, which felt rock hard. He let out a desperate groan and began to fumble at his belt loop.
His pants fell to the floor, revealing nothing but his Calvin Klein boxers and an angry buldge. He pulled away from you and began to search in his discarded pants, pulling out his wallet. You watched as he frantically searched for something. He pulled out a condom.
He kneeled between your legs and looked at you with burning eyes. You couldn’t breathe. Your brain was racing at a thousand miles per hour as you felt his fingers trace directly over your silk panties that were now wet with arousal. His hand slid lower until he found himself pushing the material to the side, groaning at the sight of you.
He leaned down, nose nuzzling yours as he pushed his fingertips through, entering you. The thrill hit your body as he pushed in and out, eventually adding another finger. You let out a loud whine as he examined your expression.
After just a few minutes, you released yourself over his fingers to which he grunted. He manhandled you, pushing you further up the couch. He stood, taking off his boxers which revealed his long, hard member, hitting your stomach.
Nate looked at you one last time for permission before lining up at your entrance. He began to push it in, emitting two similar noises from you both. Just the tip was already bruising your core. He was trying to be slow, trying to be gentle with you.
It wasn’t until he was fully inside that you were both panting, chests heaving. You grabbed onto his large shoulders, eyes shut tightly. He didn’t move at first, letting you adjust to the feeling. Then he began to slowly grind his member deeper into you, carefully starting to thrust.
Every single thought, every single worry you had began to disappear as he picked up his pace. You wrapped your legs around his lower back, desperately trying to cling on. Loud moans filled up the room as he drilled into you, bruising you from inside and out while whispering praise into your ears.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good.”
You clenched around him at the praise as he sucked on your collarbone, hitting the right spot inside of you. Your back arched as he picked up his pace, thrusts getting sloppier and harsher. You cried out, the pleasure jolting throughout your entire being.
He was fucking you through pure euphoria; you felt drunk, dizzy, head full of Nate and only Nate. His thrusts began to slow but were hitting you harder. You both made eye contact as he refused to let go of you.
You were both close, and Nate started to quicken his pace, earning a whine from you. Your legs tightened around his waist and you clenched around him, signaling to him that you were going to cum.
After his final thrust, he buried his cock and grinded it inside of you before he eventually pulled out.
You both were a panting mess after coming down from your combined highs; your sweaty bodies pressed together before he collapsed next to you.
After both of your breathing finally evened out, the room felt still. Besides the hum of the city's nightlife outside of your window, it went quiet. Nate’s hand remained on your waist like he forgot it was there.
You stared at the ceiling above you, trying to slow your heart rate and trying to figure out what just happened.
“Hey,” he called out softly. “You okay?”
You turned your head towards him, but he was already looking at you. His expression was unguarded in a way you’ve never seen before. It was authentic... it was just Nate.
You nod, letting out a small laugh. “Yeah. Just... processing.”
He looks at you with a faint smile, then looks away, running a hand through his messy hair. The energy wasn’t awkward; it just felt charged.
Your foot brushes his under the blanket at the edge of the couch by accident. He doesn’t pull away.
“Prom was… weird,” you said finally.
He huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s one word for it.”
The two of you continued to talk quietly, finally relaxing for the first time all night beside each other. At one point, Nate began to trace patterns on your arm absentmindedly. It felt comfortable—like the two of you might slip into sleep.
Then Nate began to sit up slowly, propping himself up on his elbow. He doesn’t pull away from you coldly, just carefully. You looked up at him; hesitation etched onto his face. He cleared his throat.
“I should probably go before this turns into something... we don’t know how to deal with,” he suggested.
It wasn’t a rejection. It was fear. While he was right, it caught you off guard.
“Since when did you think ahead?” you responded, but you would be lying if you said it didn’t lightly sting underneath.
He laughed lightly as you both got up and began to hand each other your discarded clothes from the floor. Dressed in nothing but the silk corset and underwear that went beneath your dress, you walked Nate to the elevator where he lingered for a moment.
He turned around to look at you one last time before entering the elevator.
“Text me when you wake up?” He suggested.
“You say that like this was normal,” you joked lightly.
The elevator door binged and opened, awaiting Nate’s entrance. Looking down at you, his eyes sparkled while he smiled softly.
“Wasn’t it?”
And he leaves.
--
It was the following Monday after prom, and you were focused on exams and graduation requirements. You had barely been able to tell Serena and Blair what happened with Leo. You were casually walking through the hallway before you spotted Nate at his locker. You hadn’t seen him since the night of prom.
You continued with your path, intending to breeze past him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He did, however, and turned around. He hesitated before calling your name, putting you to a stop. You walked up to him with a frozen demeanor.
“So,” he lowered his voice once you got close enough. “Are we pretending like nothing happened?”
You nearly gulped. You didn’t think he would dive straight into addressing the elephant in the room. Well, the elephant between you two.
“Depends,” you shrugged. “Are you planning on acting weird?”
He smirked. “You’re the one who decided to walk past me.”
Before you could respond, Nate’s eyes gravitated behind you and widened. You turned around and saw Serena approaching you two. Behind her was Blair, who was followed by Chuck. The shift was immediate. Nate stepped back from you as you cleared your throat.
“Hey guys!” Serena exclaimed, clueless. “What are we talking about?”
Blair, on the other hand, scanned your faces closely. “Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” Nate added quickly.
“Not at all-!” You agreed.
Chuck is silent but observes the tension anyway. Serena brings up a question about graduation requirements, and the five of you begin to naturally conversate with each other. Thankfully, no one brought up prom. You felt Nate’s eyes constantly glancing at you, but you pretended not to notice. When you finally looked back at him, your eye contact lingered for a moment too long.
You exited from the conversation first, claiming that you had to hunt down your teacher with a question before your next class. As you walked away from the group, you could feel his eyes lingering onto you. He almost calls after you but doesn’t.
--
You were walking in the courtyard with Chuck after an off-campus smoke session, headed for the last class of the day. He glanced at Nate, who was passing through the hallway on the other side of the yard.
“You two are exhausting, you know.” He said casually.
You frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You orbit each other. Then you act like you don’t,” he huffed. “It’s distracting.”
“We’re friends,” you defended.
“Yeah, before,” he smirked. “Now it’s strikingly different.”
You scoffed, “Nothing is different, Chuck.”
He ignored your response. “He looks... less lost around you.”
That landed, but you brushed it off with a forced laugh. “Chuck, please. Stop over analyzing things when you’re high.”
He laughed. “Just don’t pretend like you don’t matter to him then. It’s insulting,” He faked a yawn before walking away.
--
You were at home, doing your skincare routine, replaying the past week in your head. Prom, the moment in the hallway today, and Chuck’s casual, but effective words. Your phone lit up when you left the bathroom; silk robe rapped around your figure.
From: Nate Archibald
Nate: You escaped fast today.
You sat down on the edge of your bed and debated on replying, but your fingers reacted before your brain.
You: It was a busy hallway.
He responded immediately.
Nate: You’re hard to talk to when you’re avoiding me.
You: I’m not avoiding you.
Nate: Then talk to me.
Your heart skipped a beat as you sighed, reading the message over and over again. You finally told him about your day—leaving out the part about Chuck; and the conversation drifted. You spent the next hour texting about school, summer plans, and other random things.
You: I should head to bed now.
Nate: Of course, wouldn’t want to keep you up.
Nate: Goodnight, Y/N.
You: Goodnight.
--
e-blast #924
And just like that, graduation is already here for our favorite Upper East Siders. Seems like only yesterday I uploaded my first blast about them. Like everything on the Upper East Side, high school graduation is done a little differently. Who needs pomp and circumstance when you have paparazzi?
xoxo, Gossip Girl
It has been two weeks since you and Nate hooked up. You frequently talked with each other in the school hallways and at graduation rehearsals, but you hadn’t seen each other outside of school. Exams piled up, dresses were ordered, nails were done, and suddenly-- it was graduation day.
Your body was filled with nerves. The four years all of you had been eager to end had passed by so quicky. It was the first time you would see your parents together since your dad left. You, Blair, and Serena had all gotten ready together, buzzing about how nervous you all were to walk across the stage.
You had finally made it to the school; banners hung across the walls you would never see again and your favorite teachers telling students where to go. Everyone was backstage, putting on their gowns and caps. Serena was helping you bobby pin your cap while Blair was getting help from her minions. You all had gathered in the auditorium and walked past the crowd of emotional parents and to your seats—just like you all had rehearsed a few days ago.
“This is the beginning of something new,” Serena whispered.
“A fresh start,” you gushed.
“Yes,” Blair agreed. “This is our moment, and nobody can take that from us.”
Suddenly, everyone’s phones interrupted the headmistress’s speech.
#e-blast 925
Not so fast. You’re not graduating until I give you my diplomas. Mine are labels, and labels stick. Nate Archibald; Class whore.
Dan Humphrey; The ultimate insider.
Chuck Bass; Coward.
Blair Waldorf; Weakling.
Y/N L/N; Desperate.
And as for you Serena Van Der Woodsen, after today, you are officially irrelevant. Congratulations, everyone! You deserve it.
xoxo, Gossip Girl
--
Summer 2009
Outside the school is chaos—parents are crying, cameras are flashing, and caps and gowns are everywhere. All six of you gathered for a group picture together with Lily patiently awaiting to take the photo with a proud smile on her face.
Blair is rearranging everyone like a director. “Serena, left. No, your other left. Nate, stand up straight. You look like you’ve already dropped out of college.”
“I haven’t even started,” Nate mutters.
The picture gets taken. Then another. Then one with just the girls. Then one with just the guys.
Eventually, the parents peel off. Serena is pulled into a dramatic goodbye hug with someone she swears she’ll visit every weekend. Blair is swarmed by sudden photographers. The group thins and suddenly, it’s just the two of you standing a few feet apart.
“Did you cry yet?” He asks with a hesitant, but playful tone.
“Not yet,” you say. “I’m pacing myself.”
He nods like that makes sense. There’s an awkward half-second.
“You look…” he starts.
You raised an eyebrow quickly. “Careful, now.”
He smiles. “Graduated.”
“That’s not a compliment.”
“It’s accurate.”
You laugh, and for a second, it feels normal again.
The air shifts. There’s nothing left to distract you now. No one watching. No one interrupting.
Just the fact that this chapter is ending.
He takes his cap off. “So… this is it.”
“For now,” you reply.
He nods. You both know “for now” is a fragile thing. A breeze catches the edge of your gown. He notices. Of course he does. He looks at you with intent, like he’s memorizing you. Your throat tightens under the weight of it.
“What?” You ask softly.
“Nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. It’s everything he’s not saying. Someone suddenly calls his name in the distance.
He doesn’t look away from you immediately.
“I’ll see you,” he says.
It’s not a question.
You swallow. “Yeah.”
Another beat, too long. Then he steps back, and turns, walking away. Halfway across the lawn, he glances back.
You’re still standing there. Still watching.
And when your eyes meet again across the distance, it’s sharp and unfinished. Like a sentence without a period.
--
The first few weeks after graduation passes in a blur of thank-you cards and relatives asking about Princeton like it’s already happening tomorrow. You had met up with Serena and Blair a few times for shopping and your upcoming Hamptons trip but otherwise spent it at home. Everyone keeps saying, “you must be so excited,” about Princeton.
You say yes every time. You didn’t mention the hollow space in your evenings.
You notice it most at night. When you’re brushing your teeth and instinctively reaching for your phone. When you’re lying in bed and the house is asleep.
You scroll through old pictures you shouldn’t be looking at, one from graduation. The group shot. He’s not even next to you. But he’s looking at you in it. You hadn’t noticed that before. You lock your phone. Unlock it again, checking for notifications you know aren’t there. You tell yourself this is good, this is a fresh start.
You rolled onto your and stared at the wall. You missed the banter. The way he’d always look at you like he was about to say something reckless. The smoke sessions. The bar nights.
You close your eyes. And that’s when it hits — not dramatic, not loud — just steady and undeniable: You don’t miss high school. You miss him.
You try to get it out of your head. You turn on your back and stare at the ceiling. Your window was open, the sounds of a New York summer night spilling into your room. You tried to think of Princeton. About dorm rooms and new classes and a life that doesn’t include the sound of his laugh down the hallway.
Your phone vibrates. Not loud, just once. But in your quiet room, it felt like thunder.
Your heart stutters before your brain catches up. Don’t. You think. You let it sit there for three full seconds.
Four.
Five. You count.
It vibrates again — this time just the notification settling.
You exhale slowly and reach for it. The screen lights up. His name.
For a second, you don’t open it. Because if it’s something casual-- something safe—you'll feel stupid for how hard your pulse is racing. If it’s something honest, you won’t know what to do with that either. You tap it anyway.
Nate: You awake?
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. This is the moment. If you ignore it, you as friends go back to being disciplined. Mature. Sensible.
If you answer, you know exactly what you’re doing. Your mind flashes back to graduation — the way he looked at you like he wanted to step closer and didn’t.
The way it felt unfinished.
You swallow. You type; Yeah. Then delete it. Too eager, you think. You lock your phone and stare at the ceiling again. Your heart is beating so loud you can hear it.
Why now? Why tonight?
You unlock the phone again before you can overthink it a second time. You type again; Yeah.
This time you don’t hesitate. You hit send and the message goes through instantly. The typing bubble disappears. Reappears. Disappears again. You almost laugh. He’s overthinking, and that helps somehow. Then your phone finally buzzes.
Nate: Good. I was about to pretend I texted the wrong person.
You exhale a quiet laugh into the still of your room. Of course. You type back before you can second-guess it, teeth tugging at your lip.
You: Who were you trying to text?
The reply comes faster this time.
Nate: Definitely not the girl who abandoned me after graduation.
Your heartbeat stumbles. Abandoned? He can’t possibly mean it like that.
You: We graduated. it’s not abandonment,
It’s adulthood.
Nate: Adulthood is overrated.
You smiled at the glowing screen.
You: What are you doing awake?
This time the dots linger longer.
Nate: Driving.
Your brows furrow. You forgot he had his license.
You: That’s vague.
Nate: Thought you liked vague.
Your stomach flips. You sit up a little in bed now, heart moving faster than you want it to.
You: Where are you driving?
There’s a longer pause this time. Long enough that you almost think he’s changed his mind.
Nate: Near the school.
Your chest tightens. Of course he is. You don’t respond right away. The next message comes on its own.
Nate: It’s weird without you there.
No joke this time. No teasing. Just soft. Your fingers hover over the screen.
You: It’s only been two weeks.
The response comes almost instantly.
Nate: Feels longer.
The room feels smaller. Quieter. Like everything is waiting. Your pulse climbs. And before you can decide whether to slow this down—
Another message comes through.
Nate: Can I ask you something?
Your throat feels dry.
You: Depends.
Nate: If I came over… would that be a terrible idea?
And suddenly it’s not just playful anymore. It’s choice. You read it once. Twice.
A third time, like the words might rearrange themselves into something safer. This is not an accident. He didn’t text you out of boredom. He didn’t drive near the school for nostalgia. He’s asking.
You drops your phone onto your stomach and stares at the ceiling. Think. You said you’d stop. You agreed it was smarter. You’re leaving for Princeton in a few months.
This is exactly how things get messy. Your mind plays out the responsible version: you text back something light. Probably. Maybe you’d add a laughing face emoji to play it off.
He’s asking if you want him to break the rule with you. Not for you. With you.
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard. You type: It might be. You delete it. You retype it again. You start to contemplate images of graduation flashing through your head. How it felt unfinished. Your phone buzzes again.
Nate: You don’t have to answer.
You take a deep breath. He’s giving you the space to say no. Again. Yet something in you has a hard time resisting it. Because if this ends tonight, you might not see him again. You know you would lay in your bed, wondering what would’ve happened if you said yes. Your thumb moves before you fully decide. Carefully you type; It might be.
You stare at it before adding another line. But I don’t really care.
Your pulse quickens. That’s too honest. You think. But you inhale slowly and press send, the message whooshing away.
Nate: Good.
Because I’m already driving.
--
A light from the street below shines in your bedroom curtain, the sound of a low car engine humming through your window. Your heart jumps to your throat. Chills ascend through your body. You hear the engine cut off when your phone buzzes.
Nate: I’m here.
You: I’ll buzz you in.
Your footsteps feel louder than usual as she walks down the hallway. The house creaks in familiar places. You hear the bing of the elevator, and the doors slide open, revealing your first Upper East side friend. You halt at the bottom of your staircase.
For a second, neither of you move. He steps inside, the elevator doors closing behind him. The air shifts immediately. He looks the same. Jeans. T-shirt. Hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to look unaffected.
He gives you a small, crooked smile. “Hi.”
Your throat almost feels tight. “Hi.”
There’s a half-second where the weight of what you’re doing settles between you. Then he glances around lightly.
“Your mom asleep?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he says, nodding once. “I’d hate to explain this.”
And just like that — the banter slips back in.
You cross your arms. “Explain what?”
“That I drove across the city at one in the morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
The teasing tone is there, but the truth is underneath it. And now you’re standing a little closer than you were a second ago.
--
Your room feels different with him in it. It feels smaller yet the energy is charged. You close the door softly behind you.
“So,” you say, trying casually. “You drove all this way. That’s very dramatic of you.”
He shrugs, walking slowly around the edge of your room like he needs something to do with his hands. “I was bored.”
“Liar.”
He glances at you, letting out a small chuckle. “Yeah.”
The honesty hangs there in your head. You sit on the edge of your bed, heartbeat pounding in your head. You needed to calm down. This was Nate, he was your friend—not even close to a stranger. He hesitates for a few seconds before he sits besides you, leaving a careful amount of space between you. Close enough to feel the warmth, but far enough to pretend this is harmless.
The silence was louder than your banter.
He leans back on his hands slightly, looking at the ceiling. “This is a bad idea.”
“Probably,” you say.
Your knee brushes his accidentally. He stiffens and the air shifts instantly.
“You could’ve said no,” he says quietly.
“You could’ve not come.”
He looks at you then.
“Why did you come?” You asked curiously.
“Because I didn’t like how it ended,” he admits softly.
Something in your chest tightens — not fragile, not sweet — something urgent.
“You mean how we didn’t end?” You suggested.
His jaw flexes slightly. And then it happens fast. He turns toward you fully, closing the space in one deliberate movement. His hand finds your wrist first — not rough, just firm enough to stop you from overthinking any longer.
Your breath catches. The tension snaps. He doesn’t give you time to debate it this time.
He leans in and kisses you. It’s immediate, hungry, and a little messy — like you’ve both been holding your breath for weeks and finally exhaled at the same time. You react without thinking; kissing back and gripping his shirt.
His other hand slides to your waist, steadying you as you shift closer onto the bed.
For a second you both pause — foreheads almost touching, breathing uneven.
“Said you can turn me on”
“This is stupid,” he murmurs against your lips.
“Yeah,” you whispers.
But neither of you pull away. And the space between restraint and wanting disappears completely.
“Y/N...” He muttered, laying you down on the bed.
And this time, you closed the space yourself.
This kiss started slow, different from prom. No chaos, no desperation.
His hand came up to your waist and slightly up your shirt carefully, like he was afraid you would change your mind mid-kiss. You leaned into him first, which changed everything.
The kiss deepened gradually—it was warm, searching, familiar in a way that felt almost dangerous. It wasn’t messy this time, it was steady. His thumb brushed your cheek as your fingers curled into his shirt.
When you pulled apart, it was only to breathe. You’re still close. Foreheads touching. Breathing uneven. The kiss resumes before either of you consciously decides to move.
It deepens slowly, but there’s weight behind it — like you both know this isn’t an accident anymore. His hand slides from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer in a way that feels protective and possessive at the same time.
You responded instantly. He tilted his head, the kiss shifting. Less careful. A quiet sound escapes you before you can stop it; it changes the rhythm. His restraint withered and the kiss turned hungrier. You felt it in the way his grip tightened slightly at your waist, and the way he exhaled against your mouth like he was trying to stay grounded.
You move without breaking apart, until he was fully on top of you. There’s a split second where he pulls away just enough to look at you. Checking. Always checking. Both of your eyes are darker now.
“Don’t stop,” you whispered — not desperate. Just honest.
That’s all he needs.
--
Soft light filters through the curtains. The room is still. You wake slowly, disoriented for a second — then become aware of warmth beside you.
Nate’s arm is draped loosely over your waist. Not possessive. Just there. You stay still, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. In sleep, he almost looks different. Younger. Softer.
Your chest tightens slightly. This wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But you brush it off.
You shift carefully, and his arm tightens instinctively — pulling you closer without waking fully.
Nate wakes a minute later. Blinks. Registers. Doesn’t pull away.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
You smiled faintly. “Morning.”
His lashes flutter. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, eyes still closed.
You startled slightly. “Like what?”
He cracks one eye open, studying you lazily. “Like you’re thinking too much.”
A small smile pulls at your lips. “Maybe I am.”
He shifts onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. The movement brings you closer instead of farther apart. The room shifts. Your heart stutters in a way you don’t want it to.
“So,” you say, trying to pull it back to something lighter, “is this your usual late night driving routine?”
He huffs a quiet laugh, but his eyes don’t leave yours. “No.”
And that single word carries more weight than it should. For a second, neither of you look away. Just the realization that something about this feels different hitting both of you.
Then your phone buzzes on the nightstand and reality creeps in. He drops back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. “We should probably get up.”
“Probably,” you agreed.
But neither of you move right away. And that hesitation — that unwillingness to break the moment — is what turns this from casual… into something that’s starting to matter.
“Boy, but that’s about it”
--
Nate finds Chuck leaning against a column outside Nate’s apartment, sunglasses on, coffee in hand like he’s been waiting. Chuck doesn’t greet him. He just studies Nate slowly.
“You look well-rested,” Chuck says mildly.
Nate barely reacts. “I slept.”
Chuck hums. “Did you.”
Then, casually — like he’s asking about the weather:
“Did you sleep with her?”
Nate doesn’t even slow his stride. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chuck smiles faintly. Not amused — observant. “Interesting. I didn’t say who.”
That makes Nate stop. Just for half a second too long.
Chuck tilts his head slightly. “Relax. I’m not judging you.”
Nate exhales through his nose. “There’s nothing to judge.”
“Of course,” Chuck replies smoothly. “You’ve only been orbiting each other for weeks.”
Nate stiffens slightly. “We’re friends.”
Chuck’s smile widens — subtle, knowing. “Hm. And I assume that’s what you were doing at her place last night. Discussing literature in the summertime.”
Nate shoots him a look. “You don’t know anything.”
Chuck steps closer, lowering his voice. “Well, I know you didn’t leave. Spent the night I see.”
That landed. Nate ruffled his eyebrows together, confused on how Chuck could possibly know this. Because Nate never stays. He always leaves first. His jaw tightened. “We’re not a thing.”
Chuck studies him carefully now — not teasing. “That’s rarely how it starts for you.”
There’s a beat of silence. For a split second, Nate looks unsure. “It’s nothing man,” he repeats, annoyance in his tone.
Chuck nods slowly. “Then I’m sure it won’t be a problem when she leaves for Princeton.”
That’s the line that hits him. He doesn’t respond, which tells Chuck everything.
Chuck claps him lightly on the shoulder as he passes.
“Careful, Archibald.” Then walks away. Leaving Nate standing there — thinking far more than he wants to admit.
--
You approached Serena and Blair sitting down at Blair’s favorite cafe, mid conversation. They spot you and squeal in excitement, urging you to come over quickly.
You finally reach their table and Blair is mid-rant about something trivial when she suddenly stops. You sit down and her eyes narrow slightly. Serena follows her gaze. Then Serena’s expression shifts.
“Oh my god,” Blair says.
“What?” you asked immediately, instinctively smoothing your hair.
Blair steps closer, inspecting you like a piece of art. “Turn your head,” she says, already smirking.
Serena laughs first, surprised. “Is that—”
“Oh, it absolutely is!” Blair interrupts, amused.
Your stomach drops. “What are you talking about?”
Serena gently tucks your hair back, exposing a faint, purple mark on your neck. There’s a beat. Then Blair lets out a small, delighted laugh.
“Well,” she says, sighing in satisfaction, “someone is clearly not wasting her summer!”
Your cheeks flush with red.
Serena giggled. “Well, are you going to tell us who created such a piece on your neck?”
You shrugged. “This guy from the bar. He asked for my number a few weeks ago, but we’re just keeping things casual.”
“So,” Blair says lightly, “is he good?”
“Blair!”
“What? I’m invested.”
Serena leans in. “Was he sweet?”
You swallowed. It was so hard to lie to your girls. “Yeah, he’s sweet. I can’t see it going anywhere though.”
Serena bumps your shoulder playfully. “Still,” she grins, “I ship it.”
--
The three of you girls were at a club a week later, awaiting Nate & Chuck’s arrival. You were all in the corner trying to avoid the loud music until your drinks kicked in and the boys arrived. You were gossiping away and taking pictures. You had seen Nate twice since the last hookup, meeting up for a brief smoke session and walk in the park. Unknown to you all, he was approaching you three from the corner.
“So,” Blair blurts loudly, the drinks clearly taking over. “When are we going to meet him?”
“Yes,” Serena agrees. “Mysterious summer boy. We need details.”
Your voice — slightly defensive but trying to sound casual; “There’s nobody to meet. It’s not serious.”
Blair scoffs, a teasing smile on her lips. “You don’t get hickeys from ‘nobody.’”
Serena giggled. “It’s kind of hot that she’s keeping him secret.”
Around the corner, Nate froze. The music keeps pulsing. People move around him. But his focus narrows.
You laugh lightly. “You two are impossible. It’s not serious.”
The words land harder than the bass. He doesn’t wait to hear more and turns back toward the bar, jaw tight, expression neutral.
Chuck, of course, spots him and immediately approaches him.
“You look thrilled,” Chuck says lazily.
“I’m fine,” Nate replies.
Chuck studies him for a second. “That’s rarely true.”
“You can say what you wanna,”
--
Nate had finally joined the four of you, expression normal. Almost too normal, catching your attention immediately.
“You took long,” you commented teasingly.
“Long line,” he replies smoothly.
Blair smirks. “We were just discussing Y/N/’s secret life.”
Nate takes a sip of his drink without looking at anyone. “Oh?” he says casually.
You gulp. Serena nudges you. “She refuses to introduce us.”
Nate finally glances at you, just for a second. His expression is unreadable.
“Some people prefer privacy,” he says lightly.
It sounds supportive, but it feels sharp.
You narrow your eyes slightly, sensing something is off — but the loud music swallows the moment. Chuck watches both of you amusedly like he’s reading a book he already knows the ending to.
“But I wouldn’t believe it,”
--
An hour later, you’re away from the group. Chuck and Blair went off somewhere while Serena was lost on the dance floor. You were on the outside balcony, needing to get a fresh breath of air. The music is muted but still humming in the background. You’re leaning against the railing, city lights reflecting in your eyes. You heard the door open behind you, leaking the loud music into the silence of the night.
It shut when you turned around. It was Nate. He stands beside you in silence, hands in his pockets.
“You’ve been weird,” you say finally.
“I’ve been fine.”
“That’s not an answer.”
He exhales slowly, staring out at the skyline.
“So,” he says casually, too casually, “how’s the mysterious summer boy?”
It lands between you like a dropped glass.
Your head turns sharply. “What?”
He shrugs. “The one that’s ‘not serious.’”
The sarcasm is light, but it cuts through the air. Your stomach drops.
“You were listening?”
“I wasn’t trying to,” he says quickly. “Hard not to when my name apparently isn’t involved.”
That’s when you finally understand his false thoughts.
“You think—” You stop yourself.
He finally looks at you fully.
“What am I supposed to think?” he says, still controlled. “Sounds like you’ve got options.”
There it is. Not anger-- insecurity. And that’s worse.
Your voice lowers. “You didn’t want them to know.”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Neither did I.”
He hesitates. The music swells faintly behind you.
“You said it wasn’t serious,” he says, quieter now.
You step closer. “It’s not serious to them,” you say, voice getting louder. “That doesn’t mean it’s nothing.”
He searches your face, trying to decide if he believes you. The sarcasm fades.
“What is it, then?” he asks, voice stern.
Suddenly, chills hit your back, but you feel your head get hot. You open your mouth, then close it. Because you don’t have a word for it. Your hesitation is small, but he sees it.
“I just--” you start. But you don’t finish the sentence. Instead, you look at him like that would help you with the answer.
“Yeah,” he says quietly.
Not angry or sarcastic. Just… understanding. In the worst way.
“You don’t know either,” you push back, but softly.
It wasn’t an accusation; it was an observation. But he doesn’t deny it, because he doesn’t know either. It was difficult for him to realize what he wanted.
You both stand there, close enough that your shoulders almost touch. The music swells inside again. Someone laughs loudly. A glass shatters faintly. Life keeps moving. But outside, everything feels paused.
“What are we doing?” you ask quietly.
It’s not dramatic. It’s tired.
He gives a small, humorless breath of laughter.
“I have no idea.”
And that’s the truth. You aren’t avoiding the answer. There isn’t one.
You lean back against the railing, looking out at the skyline.
“So we just… keep not knowing?” you ask.
“For now,” he says.
It echoes graduation, but this time, it feels heavier. You nod slowly. The music pulses from inside, louder now as someone opens the door. Laughter and camera clicks spill onto the balcony as you and Nate continue to stare at the sky. Then it shuts again, taking the people with it.
The world keeps moving but you two don’t.
He studies you for another second. His voice, low, “Come here.”
It wasn’t a command; it was almost a plea. You don’t argue and step into him.
His hands find your waist immediately — familiar now, instinctive. Not hesitant like before. Not asking permission with the same caution. Your hands slide into his hair like you’vedone this a hundred times. Maybe you haven’t. But it feels like you have.
Then, he kisses you. It isn’t explosive; it isn’t reckless. This kiss is deeper, it’s full of frustration. Like he’s trying to erase the complication between you two.
You kiss him back just as hard. Because it’s easier than explaining yourself.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs against your mouth.
You shake your head instead. That’s all he needs. You both start moving before you even fully decide to. Back through the club, slipping past your drunken friends. Down the hallway, out a side exit.
The night air hits your skin, cool and sharp. Neither of you say where you’re going because you both know. He opens the door for you and closes you into his town car, and the both of you head off into the night.
--
The light that comes in is thin and unforgiving, slicing across your bedroom wall. It’s early — earlier than either of you would choose to be awake — but the city doesn’t care.
Once again, you’re the first to open your eyes. For a moment, you don’t move. Nate’s arm is draped over your waist, warm and heavy, his breathing slow against your shoulder.
Your phone buzzes faintly on the nightstand. A calendar notification you forgot to silence.
Princeton: 40 days.
The number sits in your chest. It feels far, but you know it’ll be here soon.
Nate stirs a minute later, blinking against the light. It takes him a second to place himself, and then he does. A slow, lazy smile curves across his mouth.
“Morning,” he murmurs, voice rough.
You force one back. “Morning.”
He brushes his thumb absentmindedly against your hip. Casual. Easy.
“You okay?” he asks, not really looking at you yet.
“Yeah,” you say too quickly. Now he looks at you, analyzing your face carefully. There’s a flicker in his eyes before he smooths it over.
“Don’t start,” he says softly.
You frown. “Start what?”
“Thinking.”
Your eyes drop to his chest instead of his face. “I’m not.”
But you are. He leans forward, pressing a slow kiss into your hair, like that’s enough to quiet whatever is happening between you. It made your stomach flutter more than you would like to admit.
“You’re going to love it there,” he says. “Princeton’s lucky.”
It’s sincere. That’s what makes it worse. He smiles at you like he’s proud.
“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”
And the space between you doesn’t feel smaller after that. It feels like a countdown.
“You can write all them songs”
--
July 2009
Finally, it was the middle of July, and your long-awaited group Hamptons trip was finally here. The coast; soft sand and blue water was the perfect getaway before university. The only thing is that now, you have a tension filled relationship that you now must deal with in a full house of 3 other people—your friends.
The summer hear was beaming down on you guys when Nate turned off the engine of your guys’ rental car. The house is too white, and too big—surrounded by willow trees and blooming flowers.
Serena throws open the double doors like she owns the place. “This,” she announces, kicking off her shoes, “is exactly what I needed.”
Blair is already critiquing the furniture. “If we’re staying here for a week and a half, I’m rearranging at least two rooms.”
Chuck drops his bag without looking. “I give it forty-eight hours before someone cries.”
Nate laughs at that. You feel it before you ses it — his voice in a space that suddenly feels smaller because he’s in it. Thirty days.
You set your sunglasses on the entry table and tell yourself to breathe.
“Rooms?” Serena calls. “Everyone pick before Blair assigns them based on social hierarchy.”
“Which I will,” Blair says sweetly.
There’s a scramble up the staircase.
Suitcases thudding. Laughter echoing. The sound of summer beginning. You reach the landing at the same time Nate does, falling behind everyone else.
“Hey,” he says, casual.
“Hey.”
You haven’t seen each other in days. Days of pretending that heavy morning didn’t sit between you two like a third person.
He glances down the hallway. “You want the room with the balcony?”
It’s a normal question, but it doesn’t feel normal.
“Doesn’t matter,” you reply.
He studies you for half a second too long. Footsteps thunder past you— Serena darting toward the biggest room. “Shotgun ocean view!”
Nate steps aside to let Serena pass. His hand brushes your waist as he does. Accidental or not accidental? Your breath catches anyway.
--
Later, the kitchen is chaos. Music playing. Windows open. The smell of sunscreen, salt, and tequila. You’re standing at the counter slicing limes, trying very hard to focus on something that isn’t the fact that Nate is leaning against the opposite side of the island, watching you.
Not staring. Just watching. Chuck is mid-story. Blair is arguing about rosé temperature. Serena is laughing too loud. The noise gives you cover.
“You’re cutting those uneven,” Nate says lightly.
You don’t look up and scoff. “I didn’t realize this was a competition.”
“It’s always a competition,” he smirks.
Blair turns suddenly. “Can someone grab more glasses?”
“I will,” you reply too fast.
So does Nate, “I will.”
You both freeze.
Serena smirks. “Wow. How helpful!”
Chuck’s eyes flick between you, curious.
“Together?” he asks lazily.
“Separate,” you say quickly.
“At the same time,” Nate adds.
You grab for the cabinet handle at once. Your hands collide. This time it isn’t subtle. His fingers curl around yours for just a second too long. Your pulse jumps. You pull away first, opening the cabinet and hurriedly grabbing the glasses. They clink a little too loudly on the counter when you set them down.
Blair’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t say anything. Chuck laughs to himself. The big, Hamptons kitchen feels smaller than ever.
That night you’re all on the back patio. The music low, drinks in hand. The ocean dark and endless beyond the railing. The fire crackling, shining upon empty s’mores supplies. You’re sitting between Serena and Blair with Nate and Chuck across.
Every time you laugh at something someone says, you can feel him looking. When you finally look back, he doesn’t look away.
Thirty days.
You don’t get a single second alone that first night. Not in the hallway. Not in the kitchen. Not on the beach. And it’s worse than if you had.
Because now you can’t fall back on what’s easy. Now you just have tension. And everyone else in the house to witness it.
--
The next afternoon is all sun and salt and hangovers. You end up at a beach bar a little down the shore — wooden deck, plastic cups, sand worked into every crack of the floorboards. Serena disappears toward the water with a group of people she somehow already knows. Blair claims her spot on the sand after forcing Chuck to help her set up the umbrella and chair.
Chuck vanishes with a drink and a smirk. Nate goes to grab beers. You stay at the bar. It’s loud. Bright. Easy to pretend things are uncomplicated. You lean forward to flag down the bartender, sunglasses slipping down your nose.
“That color looks illegal on you.”
You turn slightly.
A guy — mid-twenties, sunburned in that intentional way, expensive watch, too confident — is smiling at you like he’s already decided something.
“I’m sorry?” you say, polite but distant.
“The blue,” he clarifies, gesturing lazily at your dress. “You’re making the ocean look bad.”
You huff a small laugh despite the corniness. “That feels statistically unlikely.”
He grins wider. “Let me buy you a drink. Something cold. Something worthy.”
You hesitate. You feel the shift in the air behind you. Nate is coming up the stairs, beer in his hand. He hears enough of it.
Illegal on you.
Let me buy you a drink.
He doesn’t move at first. He just stands there, watching. But you haven’t noticed him yet.
The guy leans closer, lowering his voice like it’s intimate. “Unless your boyfriend’s going to object.”
You shake your head automatically. “I don’t have a—”
And that’s when you see Nate over the guy’s shoulder. His expression is neutral. The kind of neutral that takes effort. You don’t finish the sentence. The guy glances back, assessing Nate quickly — preppy, tall, familiar in a way that feels territorial even if it isn’t defined.
Nate steps forward then, smooth. Sets one of the beers in front of you.
“I think she’s good,” he says calmly.
The guy raises his hands slightly. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
The guy backs off with a shrug and disappears toward another cluster of girls. Silence settles between you for half a second. You look at the beer. Then at Nate.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t,” he agrees.
He doesn’t sit. Doesn’t move away either.
“You were handling it,” he adds casually.
“I was.”
He nods. Takes a sip from his own bottle. But he’s not looking at the ocean. He’s looking at the space the guy had occupied, like it left a mark. You study him.
“Did that bother you?” you ask carefully.
He scoffs faintly. “Why would it?”
There it is. The wall. You lean back against the bar. “No reason.”
Another beat. Then, almost too light; “You don’t have a what?” he asks, no emotion in his tone.
You meet his eyes. “Nothing.”
He holds her gaze a second longer than he should. Then nods.
“Right.”
“If that’s the game that you play”
He finally steps back, creating distance. But this time it feels intentional.
--
You’re all in the living room. Music low. Windows wide open. The ocean and outside chatter loud in the background.
Serena’s half-asleep on the couch. Blair is scrolling through her laptop and pretending she’s not watching everyone. Chuck is nursing a drink, observant as always. You’re sitting on the floor, back against the couch. Nate is on the armrest above you. Close. Not touching.
Normally by now, his fingers would drift into her hair. Or he’d tap her shoulder. Or lean down to say something only she can hear.
Tonight? Nothing.
He laughs at something Chuck says. But when another guy from the beach stops by to say hi by the window— someone you barely know — Nate’s jaw tightens for half a second. Then relaxes again. He doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t claim you. It doesn’t leave his head either.
to be continued in part 2 because Tumblr won't let me upload the whole thing smh.
