This takes place directly after the last episode aired. It's literally from the last scenes of Hi, Society! lol.

Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed my other Gossip Girl stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. ... (duh)

By the way, B/C fans, turn away NOW. Ooookay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Let's all face it, N/B is my ship.

Burn Your Life Down

When Blair Waldorf imagined losing her virginity—and she did. often—it was always with Nate. Sometimes there were candles, and his beautiful eyes would sparkle at her. Sometimes there were rose petals strewn around the room, their redness contrasting gorgeously with her pale, pale skin as he laid her down onto the bed. The fantasies date back as far as freshman year—maybe even before that, if she's honest with herself. maybe from the first time she saw him, and was too young to understand what that tingling meant—so she has piles of them in her mind, a reel long enough to make Gone with the Wind shrink in embarrassment. The setting and the plot changed every time, but the stars never did.

For Blair Waldorf, it was always supposed to be Nate Archibald.

Not even in her infamously overactive imagination could Blair have ever suspected how It would really go down. And that's what it was. An It. Once upon a time, losing her virginity had been something exciting to cherish, like a birthday or Christmas Day. By the time she hit senior year, Blair was ready to just fucking do It already. It became the root canal scheduled for tomorrow, the charity event that would take all day. It was something she needed to get over with, as soon as possible, because she'd been ready since forever and she wasn't really sure what was taking It so long.

All that waiting had made her too hasty, and she knew it. Fury made her set aside her dreams and fantasies and she settled for revenge and spur of the moment passion. It was delicious irony, she knew. Her picture perfect Upper East Side life had been shredded and spat on lately, so she had done the same to everything she had wanted for herself. After all, the back of a limo was as far from a king sized bed as you could get, the same way that leather upholstery, no matter how expensive, would never be silk sheets.

The same way that Chuck Bass would never, ever be Nate Archibald.

Blair wasn't naïve going into it. She knew that sex would not be all hearts and flowers and rainbows. She had grown up fast and rich, she had slutty friends, she'd seen porn. She knew that sex wasn't really making love, and definitely not with Chuck Bass.

Blair was more naïve than she thought, or maybe just more of a romantic than even she knew. She told herself she didn't expect love; sweetness; Nate; silk; roses; candles. She just didn't realize what that left her with. It's more awkward than she would have thought, and she's careful not to look Chuck in the eye. The tear of the condom wrapper makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she knows what she's doing, and she's going to do it, dammit. When he breaks her, she thinks of the look on Nate's face when she told him that she didn't need him anymore. When he's climaxing above her, the only thing she can think of is how uncomfortable she feels. When they—he—is finished and they sit back up, she looks at the mess they left on the seat and wishes she were dead.

To Chuck's credit, it wasn't bad. Not at all. He was gentle with her, uncharacteristically so. He'd asked several times if she was alright, and did his best to make it good for her. He was a good kisser, and he was damn good looking. It wasn't his fault that she was Blair Waldorf, and she was born impossible to please. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't born Nate Archibald.

The fact of the matter was that he and Blair were simply too much alike. The dark haired socialites were both too clever for their own good, and just a little bit evil. They were constantly second fiddle to their glitterier, blonder counterparts. They were smarter and better dressed, more ambitious and just as good looking, but it never seemed to matter. They were both expected to be content to sit in the shadows, waiting proudly on the sidelines for their best friends.

That's why Blair can't bring herself to blame him for this. Chuck certainly didn't discourage her, but she came onto him. Her skin crawls just a little when she wonders if he has been waiting for this. He's Nate's irritating-when-not-invisible sidekick—she's been overlooking him for years, fawning over Nate the way that everyone else did. Was Chuck thinking about her—about this—even then? Or was this as random and meaningless as any of his other flings?

Blair can't figure out which she would hate worse. It doesn't really matter, because she plans to never speak to him again.

Part of life as a queen of the Upper East Side is having walk in closets full of skeletons. This is one of hers, before his limo even deposits her on her doorstep. She doesn't know much, but she knows that nobody can ever find out about this.

Weeks later (and more casual sex than she'd like to admit), it looks like things may just work out in her favor. On the night of her debut, Blair Waldorf has finally managed to rid herself of Chuck Bass and his ridiculous infatuation with her. She begins and ends the night on and in the arms of Nate Archibald, and it's different this time. She can feel it in the way that he looks at her that he's not faking it this time, that she won't have to do it alone. She had been on the fast track to leaving their whole failed relationship behind, but now she doesn't have to bother. Blair doesn't need to live in denial, because Nate loves her and she loves him, and it's going to work this time. They will have their Ivy League life, their grand wedding, their white picket fence.

After the ball, the rain falls outside, but she's never been happier. She's upstairs in a suite with Nate, and it's finally going to happen. The bed is large and the candles glow, and his eyes sparkle the way she always knew they would. She loves him so much, so suddenly, that she feels like she just might explode from it. When he lays her down, it's upon soft sheets and a thick mattress. She's so eager that she rips the condom open and slides it down over him, her hand shaking only slightly. She doesn't feel awkward underneath him, her hands stroking his back and relishing the feeling of his bare skin, of the muscles shifting beneath. She could stay like this forever, happy and in love and so damn giddy that it would be embarrassing if anyone could see her. It's so comfortable with Nate that she's sure it will have to be ruined at some point.

And it is.

Because as he slides into her with no resistance, the smile slides off his almost-too-handsome face, the spark in his eyes fizzling out. He looks puzzled for half a second before the devastation sets in.

Because she's no blushing virgin, and now he knows it too.

And now their 'fairy tale romance', their perfect first time, is gone with the wind, washed away in the rain, speeding away in the back of a limo.

I can't even explain this one, lol. It just wanted to be written, so I tried to let it out. Thanks for reading, please leave feedback. If necessary, instruct me never to run with uncontrollable impulses again. haha.