baby, it's so cruel [blair/nate ~infidelity]
title: Baby, it's So Cruel
rating: PG-13
fandom/pairing: Gossip Girl. Blair/Nate; mentions of established Blair/Marcus and Nate/Duchess-who-has-a-name-that-rhymes-with-dotdotdot-something.
spoilers: Early S02, I think? That time when Nate was having an affair with the woman who was the stepmother of Blair's boyfriend, who also happened to be sleeping with that same woman/stepmother.
warnings: Super-AU; infidelity; vague angst.
summary: Blair might be a worse person for enjoying it as much as she does.
words: 888
disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, or Lady Gaga's "Judas".
a/n: So I wrote this ages ago, but I forgot and now I haven't. I kinda of like Nate/Blair a lot. but in all fairness i like anything if it means someone likes blair a lot though
“Who’s your daddy?” he mumbles, his lips rough against the rapidly-beating pulse of Blair’s neck.
Blair forces her eyes open for the sole purpose of rolling them, because even after all these years, a part of her still finds Nathaniel Archibald charming - in a ridiculous, you’re lucky you’re rich and handsome because otherwise… sort of way that only Nate could pull off. She feels his mouth curl up into a grin - a stupid, childish, self-satisfied one that doesn’t mean I have a power over you and there’s nothing you can do about it so much as it does I love that you love me.
Trailing her hands up from Nate’s hips - up his back, rucking his neat, carefully-ironed, starchy white a-line out of his equally clean, exemplary-of-poise khakis; up past the base of his neck, and the little chestnut-brown hair that still reaches that far; into the darker, now-without-highlights tresses covering the back of his head - Blair murmurs, “You’re an idiot.” The statement, though tainted with the still unusual, still jarringly unfamiliar, offensive humor that she never expressed to him before they were young, and in love - and then became slightly older, and bitter - is not without sincere affection.
With a light chuckle, Nate slides his lips to the junction of Blair’s neck and shoulder. Blair’s fingers tighten in Nate’s hair, but if it hurts him - and really, it might not; it’s hard to assume what his pain tolerance is like, but Blair gets the impression that the Duchess is a pretty kinky cougar - it’s not enough to outweigh whatever disturbed pleasure he’s getting from this. He bites, hard enough for Blair to let out a startled moan, and proceeds to suck - hard enough to bruise.
In an unfaithful and horribly inappropriate way, Blair likes how unconcerned Nate has become in recent encounters when it comes to hickeys. She still remembers the months, just after he and the Duchess tied their pretty little knot of impropriety, when he was so afraid to touch her at all. When he would go to painstaking lengths to make sure that the Duchess and the Lord (Blair’s Lord) were out of the way, and they wouldn’t be caught in the act; when he barely had the bravery to graze her with his fingertips, and no matter how embarrassingly needy she got, he’d never give her enough.
She’s glad that those days are gone. She’s glad that now, whenever she and Marcus visit their parents (in Blair’s case, parents-in-law, thankfully) - whether it be for holidays, or important British business that Blair is painfully disinterested in, or just for visiting the family - she doesn’t have to worry about how she’s going to keep herself in check. In a twisted way, Blair is relieved that Nate is willing to take more risks than their relationship entails by necessity.
It’s exciting, doing it in the greenhouse while the Duchess is showing Marcus the new rose bushes in the garden. It’s invigorating, doing it in one of the guest bathrooms while their respective spouses are sleeping soundly and without worry. And it’s positively exhilarating doing it in the study while the Duchess entertains guests outside, and Marcus goes for a swim with friends whose names Blair remembers only by rote.
“If I’m such an idiot, then why do you still put up with me, after all this time?” Nate asks, pulling away briefly to admire the mark on Blair’s neck. She imagines it to be red in color - a vibrant, burning red symbolic of their forbidden passions, which will eventually change to a mottled purple representative of their exhausted guilts and vague fear.
It’s a good question, but Blair doesn’t have a suitable answer to it. That’s not to say that she’s without response entirely - because she does have one; one that makes her insides twist and the pressure on her chest increase from its typical, bearable amount of shame to absolutely intolerable regret that she can’t stifle, no matter how hard she tries - but it’s the type of thing that a person (even a person like Blair, who uses people at whim and with little remorse; even a person like Blair, who carries on an affair with the man that is the husband of her husband’s ex-stepmother) doesn’t say. It’s the type of thing that no one, particularly not one in Blair’s situation, speaks aloud.
Blair wraps her legs around Nate’s waist, and pulls him closer. She feels him, hard against her, and her breath hitches in time with his.
She’s not sure if Nate doesn’t notice that she didn’t answer, or if he’s just helping her and avoiding the subject.
But she is sure that she doesn’t care much either way, just as long as she can put off that particular conversation a while longer.
Blair smirks at him, just like the old days when she could smirk at Nate because she knew that she had everything she was supposed to (and did) want; when she could smirk at Nate because the only complications that could arise were naïve, callow ones, like What about your feelings for Serena? and What would happen if someone found out?
And for just a moment, Nate smiles back at her just like he used to - like she was an awful, manipulative person, but he kind of loved her anyway.
rating: PG-13
fandom/pairing: Gossip Girl. Blair/Nate; mentions of established Blair/Marcus and Nate/Duchess-who-has-a-name-that-rhymes-with-dotdotdot-something.
spoilers: Early S02, I think? That time when Nate was having an affair with the woman who was the stepmother of Blair's boyfriend, who also happened to be sleeping with that same woman/stepmother.
warnings: Super-AU; infidelity; vague angst.
summary: Blair might be a worse person for enjoying it as much as she does.
words: 888
disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl, or Lady Gaga's "Judas".
a/n: So I wrote this ages ago, but I forgot and now I haven't. I kinda of like Nate/Blair a lot. but in all fairness i like anything if it means someone likes blair a lot though
“Who’s your daddy?” he mumbles, his lips rough against the rapidly-beating pulse of Blair’s neck.
Blair forces her eyes open for the sole purpose of rolling them, because even after all these years, a part of her still finds Nathaniel Archibald charming - in a ridiculous, you’re lucky you’re rich and handsome because otherwise… sort of way that only Nate could pull off. She feels his mouth curl up into a grin - a stupid, childish, self-satisfied one that doesn’t mean I have a power over you and there’s nothing you can do about it so much as it does I love that you love me.
Trailing her hands up from Nate’s hips - up his back, rucking his neat, carefully-ironed, starchy white a-line out of his equally clean, exemplary-of-poise khakis; up past the base of his neck, and the little chestnut-brown hair that still reaches that far; into the darker, now-without-highlights tresses covering the back of his head - Blair murmurs, “You’re an idiot.” The statement, though tainted with the still unusual, still jarringly unfamiliar, offensive humor that she never expressed to him before they were young, and in love - and then became slightly older, and bitter - is not without sincere affection.
With a light chuckle, Nate slides his lips to the junction of Blair’s neck and shoulder. Blair’s fingers tighten in Nate’s hair, but if it hurts him - and really, it might not; it’s hard to assume what his pain tolerance is like, but Blair gets the impression that the Duchess is a pretty kinky cougar - it’s not enough to outweigh whatever disturbed pleasure he’s getting from this. He bites, hard enough for Blair to let out a startled moan, and proceeds to suck - hard enough to bruise.
In an unfaithful and horribly inappropriate way, Blair likes how unconcerned Nate has become in recent encounters when it comes to hickeys. She still remembers the months, just after he and the Duchess tied their pretty little knot of impropriety, when he was so afraid to touch her at all. When he would go to painstaking lengths to make sure that the Duchess and the Lord (Blair’s Lord) were out of the way, and they wouldn’t be caught in the act; when he barely had the bravery to graze her with his fingertips, and no matter how embarrassingly needy she got, he’d never give her enough.
She’s glad that those days are gone. She’s glad that now, whenever she and Marcus visit their parents (in Blair’s case, parents-in-law, thankfully) - whether it be for holidays, or important British business that Blair is painfully disinterested in, or just for visiting the family - she doesn’t have to worry about how she’s going to keep herself in check. In a twisted way, Blair is relieved that Nate is willing to take more risks than their relationship entails by necessity.
It’s exciting, doing it in the greenhouse while the Duchess is showing Marcus the new rose bushes in the garden. It’s invigorating, doing it in one of the guest bathrooms while their respective spouses are sleeping soundly and without worry. And it’s positively exhilarating doing it in the study while the Duchess entertains guests outside, and Marcus goes for a swim with friends whose names Blair remembers only by rote.
“If I’m such an idiot, then why do you still put up with me, after all this time?” Nate asks, pulling away briefly to admire the mark on Blair’s neck. She imagines it to be red in color - a vibrant, burning red symbolic of their forbidden passions, which will eventually change to a mottled purple representative of their exhausted guilts and vague fear.
It’s a good question, but Blair doesn’t have a suitable answer to it. That’s not to say that she’s without response entirely - because she does have one; one that makes her insides twist and the pressure on her chest increase from its typical, bearable amount of shame to absolutely intolerable regret that she can’t stifle, no matter how hard she tries - but it’s the type of thing that a person (even a person like Blair, who uses people at whim and with little remorse; even a person like Blair, who carries on an affair with the man that is the husband of her husband’s ex-stepmother) doesn’t say. It’s the type of thing that no one, particularly not one in Blair’s situation, speaks aloud.
Blair wraps her legs around Nate’s waist, and pulls him closer. She feels him, hard against her, and her breath hitches in time with his.
She’s not sure if Nate doesn’t notice that she didn’t answer, or if he’s just helping her and avoiding the subject.
But she is sure that she doesn’t care much either way, just as long as she can put off that particular conversation a while longer.
Blair smirks at him, just like the old days when she could smirk at Nate because she knew that she had everything she was supposed to (and did) want; when she could smirk at Nate because the only complications that could arise were naïve, callow ones, like What about your feelings for Serena? and What would happen if someone found out?
And for just a moment, Nate smiles back at her just like he used to - like she was an awful, manipulative person, but he kind of loved her anyway.