#baezens4k

[teamatsumu]

Sleepless Nights

Prompt:  We’re always both in the apartments’ fitness centre at 3 am.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,003

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD. swearing.

A/N: So this one is for @baezen‘s 4k writing challenge. As soon as i saw the prompt i was like yes i need this. i hope y’all like it!

You didn't need a therapist. You knew you didn't. So what if you had been mugged? So were a lot of other people. It was just a bout of insomnia. No big deal.

Except, deep down, you kind of knew that wasn't insomnia, and that it was a big deal. It was terrible nightmares, jumping at the slightest of sounds, but the most glaring one, not being able to stay alone.

It was the reason you couldn't sleep. Just the thought of you unconscious in your apartment, alone, at night, scared the living daylights out of you. You couldn't fathom doing that. And you couldn't stay in there alone, even if you were awake either. So you had to look for an option of where to spend your nights until you were so exhausted that sleeping alone didn't matter.

Your sister refused to let you sleepover, saying that was no solution and you needed to see a therapist. You had point blank refused, and now were stuck on what to do.

You got to the main lobby of your apartment building, thinking there could be somebody there. It was a little after midnight. As you got there, you heard thuds, bangs and grunts. The sounds were familiar, so they didn't scare you. They were coming from the fitness center.

You made your way towards it, surprised to look through the glass doors to find a man that looked like he wanted to murder the punching bag he was having a go at. He was tall, very buff, broad shoulders and chest, bulging arms under his long sleeved T-shirt, which in itself confused you. He was sweating profusely, the air in the large room was humid, so why not go for a gym vest or any other work out clothes?

You didn't think about it too long, you just entered the gym. He glanced at you briefly, probably curious why you were there this late. But he couldn't be one to judge, he was here too.

You placed your purse next to the treadmill and started it up. You had no intention if actually working out. You just couldn't be alone. Having this man around felt comforting somehow.

What if he's the one who mugs you? Your mind asked. You sighed mentally and looked at him again. His back was to you, breathing heavy and grunts escaping his mouth occasionally as he assaulted the punching bag. Something told you you'd be okay in his company.

It became a sort of routine. For the next two weeks, you would show up at the center at exactly midnight, only for him to already be there. He would nod at you, which you'd return, and you'd both go do your own stuff.

Then, one day, he didn't show up.

You stood between the glass doors, staring wide-eyed at the empty gym. No punching bag hung on the hook. No weights on the floor for him to pick up. He wasn't there.

You didn't think logically. You didn't think at all. You raced to the main lobby, at the reception where a receptionist sat.

“Hey Ann,” you greeted, trying to keep the panic from your voice. “Listen, I need a favor.”

Ann looked at you from behind her thick rimmed glasses, blinking. “Hi Y/N. Sure.”

“Um,” you thought for a minute. “You know that man who comes to the center everyday? What's his name?”

Ann stared at her curiously. “James, I think. Barnes. James Barnes. I don't know for sure, though. He doesn't talk a lot.”

You nodded. “What floor is he on?”

“Seven.” Ann looked at you weird. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup. Fine. He just….. left something behind that I think might be important.”

Ann nodded and you left for the elevator after giving her another smile. Floor seven.

Before you could think, you were knocking at his door. And it was only then, that your exhausted and sleep deprived brain registered what you were doing.

Fuck, you should have thought this through.

Before you could run away, the chain clinked into place and the door opened slightly. Blue eyes looked into yours for a split second, before the door shut and opened again, without the chain.

“Hi, uh…” This was really bad. “I'm… the girl from the center.”

He nodded, curiosity on his face and you mentally slapped yourself.

“You- this is very, very awkward- you weren't there today? That's…. very creepy, I know. But um, I kind of panicked that something had happened. Because- well I got mugged a few weeks ago and not I'm just paranoid all the time. And I didn't want you to be hurt. Yeah, uh… I don't want anyone to be hurt actually, not specifically you. But like, I don't want you to be hurt either-”

“I'm fine.” His voice was soft and slow, and you could see the amusement on his face. Your own was hot as the sun, and probably just as red. You wanted to cry at how embarrassing this situation was. God, you just couldn't keep your mouth shut.

“I…. okay. Okay, yeah. That's cool. Good. I'll um… bye?”

Your voice squeaked at the end and you didn't stay to see him laugh at you. You turned around to rush away.

“That's why you were at the center every day?” You stopped as he spoke. “Because you can't be alone at night?”

I can't be alone period. You thought. Turning back around, you stared at him where he stood in his doorframe.

“Yeah.” Your voice was low, as if you didn't want to disturb the silence.

He nodded, stepping forward and stretching a hand out. “I'm Bucky.”

You shook his hand, smiling. “Y/N.”

He smiled back slightly, and you took in the dark circles under his eyes. The tired sagging of his face.

“You can't sleep either.” You blurted out. “Why?”

Bucky shrugged. “I have my trauma just like you have yours.” He stepped the the side and gestured back to his door. “Would you like to come in?”

................

Bucky made a mean cup of tea. You were surprised at how he managed to not sleep with this goodness in his stomach. His furniture was modest and minimal. Maybe he just wasn't into interior decor.

You and Bucky talked a bit, and he suggested the therapist as well. But you refused, saying you'll see a therapist if he sees a therapist. That ended the debate effectively.

You didn't know how or when, but somehow, your eyelids drooped and your body went pliant against the couch you were on, sleep taking over and knocking you unconscious. It had to be the tea. It was too good.

Bucky watched you, thinking about how peaceful you looked and how he wished he could go to sleep without hearing his victims scream in pain. He hadn't slept for about a month now, and today, his strength had finally waned out. Try as he might, he couldn't physically make it to the gym. He was exhausted beyond imagination. Was it possible to die of exhaustion? Because Bucky didn't think he was far from it.

Well, at least one of them was getting sleep. Bucky lay down on the couch opposite to you, listening to your even breaths.

You woke up with a start, neck slightly aching at how you'd been lying. You looked at the unfamiliar lounge, feeling your heart beat fast. Where were you? How did you get here? Your eyes snapped to the door as someone walked into the room, looking at you.

It was Bucky. You remembered suddenly showing up at Bucky’s to ask if he was okay. Did you fall asleep here?

“Morning.” Bucky sounded just as soft and timid as before.

You flushed red. “Dear lord, I'm so sorry! I- that was so inappropriate.”

“It's okay. You needed sleep desperately, and you got it.”

You took in his face, which had sagged even more in its tiredness. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. He looked like you had yesterday. Tired and ready to drop dead at any moment.

“Thank you.” You said. “I should- get going.” Bucky followed you to the door. You debated on whether you should ask him about it or not. You decided against it. If he wanted you to know, you'd know. Smiling one last time, you walked to the elevator. It was then that you realized this was most refreshed and energetic you'd felt in a while. And you owed it to Bucky.

..................

The second time you saw Bucky, you were in your senses and thinking properly. But you still knocked on his door. He opened it a bit quicker than last time, smiling at you. You held up tray in your hand.

“I come bearing gifts.” You grinned.

Bucky chuckled and let you in. You were glad to have company after being alone for so long. And the look on Bucky’s face told you that he was as well.

It became a routine. Bucky stopped coming to the center so you'd show up at his door with snacks and occasionally a movie. You would talk through the night, about anything and everything that entered your mind. You'd sleep sometimes, comforted by the fact that you weren't alone and vulnerable. Over the course of four months, Bucky revealed to you his life piece by piece. He revealed his identity, his actions, the guilt that consumed him because of said actions, and how it affected his life now. You knew a thing or two about trauma, but it was nothing compared to what Bucky had gone through. You reminded him constantly of the helplessness he faced in that situation, saying that it wasn't his fault. He didn't believe you, of course. But you'd keep telling him until he did.

Bucky was getting worse and worse. His absolute fatigue and lack of sleep had resulted in a loss of appetite, which meant weight loss. You were seriously worried he was going to cause irreparable damage to himself. But no matter what you said, he wouldn't sleep for more than two hours before he'd wake up shaking and screaming.

“Buck..” He tensed at your tone, probably realizing what was coming.

“I can't go to sleep, Y/N. You know that. So can you please just drop it?”

“No.” You said firmly, making him look at you. “I won't drop it. This little circus that's going on, it's going to kill you, Bucky. I can't-”

“Why do you care?” His voice was soft. “Maybe it's what I deserve.”

“No, it's not.” Again, your reply was immediate. You scooted closer to him on the couch. “You don't deserve a punishment for something you had no control over. And yes, I do care about you. A lot. Bucky,” you turned his head to make him look at you. “please don't pull away. Let me in, let me help you.”

You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his. “Let me love you.”

Bucky breathed in deep, eyes darting between your own.

“You can't get a remotely normal life until you accept what you've done, accept that you won't be held accountable for all that, and move on.” You continued to say, a hand reaching up to run through his hair. Bucky sighed and nodded, making you smile. Slowly, you inched forward, lips meeting his.

He kissed back instantly, lips soft and compliant. It was gentle and comfortable, warm and slow. When you ran out of breath, you pulled away.

You tugged at Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him to lay down next to you on the couch. It was a tight squeeze, but both of you managed. You wrapped your arms tightly around him, bodies pressed together.

“Sleep. I'm right here.” You whispered, fingers starting to card through his hair, brushing his scalp. Slowly, you felt him relax against you as he drifted off. You stayed put, ready to be present when he had a nightmare.

Bucky slept like a baby through the night.

Permanent Tags: 

@gobletofweasley @rhiisnotawitch @fandomnerdsarecool @embrace-themagic @shuriismyqueen @just-saying-26 @ihclipse @droidyouseek @fandomtrashfangirl @pensysto @alisonhepps @animechick725 @goldenkillmonger @demonspawn2468 @theshortegg @xxashy999xx @the-criminal-soldier @parkerrpeterr @ironspiderguy @youlightmeupfinn @tomsfireheart @supernatural-girl97 @spideydaddyboy @give-me--some-pie @cherryhollands @buckysb-tch @rosescentedblood @doowneey @xloue @phasma-trash @livelovelike555 @kokogxddess @keepyourdreamsalive @oceaneyedstan @alt-wildflower  @lady4marvel @mdgrdians @jamesbarnesplums @tannyator @tinyfistwarrior @januaryechoes @daynight-dreamer-stuff @lazyandobsessed @meganthegeek @his-paradox  @lokilovestortillas @omalliethealliecat 

Bucky Barnes: 

@iheartsebastianstan @wintwrsoldiwr @girlwhoisfearless @vxidnik @usernamesarebitches @fuckthatfeeling @broadwaysprincess @arrow-barton @inadquacy @superiorsoph  @buckysb-tch @nexitye @dontpanc @fleursirvart @goalie-love @clevertheoristpainter @bexboo616

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #baezens4k #bucky barnes one shot #winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes fic

[the-canary]

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Post Canon-GG).

Pairing: Reader/Carter Baizen

Status: Complete

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 3 

Part 4 

Part 5 

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 

Part 9 

Part 10 

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write #mood board

[jadewritings]

Left At The Alter

SUMMARY: (AU) Bucky Barnes has been Y/N's best friend for a long time. When he finds out that she got engaged, he's forced to rethink his feelings for her.

WORD COUNT: 718

WARNINGS: Angst, fluff, bit of language??

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is for @baezen ‘s  4k milestone writing challenge! Enjoy and congrats on the milestone! <3

Based on prompt, "Leave him and marry me."

Life was never easy. It would never let anyone have it easy. Things were always, one way or another, complicated. Bucky always saw things in black and white, there was no gray area. Until she came along.

Y/N moved in next door to Bucky's apartment. She brought him a little hello gift basket with some wine and other goodies and that was how they met. He invited her in and ever since then, they became close.

Bucky didn't know how he really felt about her. That's why he introduced her to her now, fiancé, Steve.

Everytime he saw them together, his heart would lurch painfully in his chest. And when Steve proposed, he finally understood. He was asked to be the best man and all the while, he hated that he wasn't the groom instead. He regretted introducing the two of you after three years, he regretted not ever telling you how he felt, but one thing he wasn't going to regret, was asking you to marry him instead.

Bucky ran to your room just as you'd put the dress on and finished gotten ready. He didn't even so much as knock and just walked right in.

"Buck, what's the matter?" You asked, worried by the look on his face. It wasn't often you saw him with a sad face but when you did it was at least for a good reason.

"Y/N.. I-I need to get something off my chest. And you might hate me for it but, I need you to listen before you say anything."

You furrowed your brows, more concerned now, "Buck, you're starting to scare me, what's going on?"

Bucky stepped forward, sliding his hands into yours, "I love you, Y/N." He felt you start to pull away, so he continued before you could do anything. "I always have, from that very moment I answered the door and saw you all bubbly eyed and smiling with the gift basket. Granted, I didn't realize it until it was too late but... I needed you to know now, before you go through with this."

"B-Buck, I-I don't- you know I love Steve." You hesitated, the news was shocking but when he said it, you couldn't help but feel... something more.

"Damnit, I know, and I hate that I was the one that made it that way but, Y/N.. Leave him and marry me. We'll run away, right now. We can start over, get married, have a family of our own some day. We can be happy together. Please.."

There was a knock on the door, telling you that the ceremony was beginning and it was time for you to head to the alter. Your heart started to pump furiously. You did love Steve. He was a good man and deserved better. But Bucky, he's always been there. When you were down, it was him sitting with you, watching comedies on Netflix and eating ice cream and drinking wine and making you... smile.

You felt trapped. If he had come to you so much sooner, this could have been easier. But it wasnt, and the choice you make would set the rest of your life into motion.

So, you nodded, and leaned up on your toes, and kissed him. He returned the kiss and picked you up, spinning you before setting you back down. You both laughed but stopped when another knock came at the door.

This was gonna be hard to do, leaving Steve. Especially leaving him at the alter, worst way to go. Bucky grabbed your hand and you both bolted. You ran past the girl at the door, Peggy. You looked back and saw the confusion on her face. She was Steve's best friend. You knew deep down that she loved Steve, maybe now she would get her chance.

You burst through the chapel doors and got into Bucky's car.

"This is the rest of our lives. I'm glad to share it with you, Y/N." Bucky rested his hand on your thigh. You smiled at him and part of your heart ached for Steve. Was this the right decision? Was this truly what you wanted? Bucky stomped on the gas and that was the end of your questions. Now, it was you and Buck. Maybe this is how things were meant to be.

Everything I Write Tag List:

@darknightfrombeyond @nerdysandwichqueen @imdeansdick

Want to be tagged in my writing? Add yourself here! Send an ask if you wanna be added but it's not working, be sure to let me know what you want to be tagged in.

#baezens4k #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky au #bucky barnes au #avengers #avengers au #reader insert

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (9/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

A/N: Can you believe we are close to the ending for this series? I have sort of an idea for the last chapter, but I don’t know yet if that will come with an epilogue addition. Things happen in this chapter, but they have to #sorrynotsorry.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Embezzlement.

At max, embezzlement comes with a fine of $100,000 fine and potentially 25 years in prison in the state of New York, and while Carter might not face that completely -- he was an associate to Ellis’ misdeeds and could be potentially charged if this ever leaks out. Thus, he heads to his lawyers, which leads him directly to the board of directors of the majority of his companies -- no, charm can save him from the old men searching for blood.

It doesn’t help that before the meeting, he finds that Ellis had run away.

With a lot of conditions and blackmail, the board comes at him like vicious dogs but somehow lenient saints as well as they ask for payments of all their losses and his resignation as the CEO of all the companies that he owns. They smirk, but he is willing to give all up all of it as long as he’s out scott-free and with his signature in some pieces of paper -- he’s out, but at a price.   

Later on, Carter Baizen will think that for once in his life he’s a lucky bastard to have all the companies that he had gotten control of to be all privately owned and that they are all within that blasted 5-year audit period. However, the rich never forget a con-artist or liar, even if he isn’t one himself --ignoring his younger years--  as old funders and partners begin to leave him out to dry. The debt doubles and he knows that he has to find the son-of-bitch that put him in this mess to begin with.

Carter, for the first time in a long time, leaves New York City -- his running ground, his holy place-- in search of the man that messed all his plans up once more. It is a self-exile compared to the ones of his youth as he begins to wonder what he actually wants out of life with his close “friends” and most of his money gone once more.

Carter Baizen loses half of his empire in his mid-thirties, but he feels that this time he has so much more to gain -- he just needs to figure out what and as he heads towards the French Riviera, Carter can’t help but hope that a certain accountant will be able to forgive him for the choices made.

 “Wait, what ?”

It’s the only thing that Rocio can say, as she listens to her best friend curse and relent everything that has happened since she had left New York for the calmer parts of the East Coast. Somewhere deep down, she wants to laugh at the irony of it all, like she knew in her drunk haze that this would happen if all the right pieces came to be -- and look at what transpired. However, she silently seethes as her friend gets to the end of her story -- the things that Ellis Hayes told her, of what Carter might have actually wanted from her.

Rocio isn’t one to believe Ellis, even less Carter Baizen but there is something within her that just doesn’t seem to settle with that bit of information. However, before the call is over, her dear friend is a lot calmer than before, all ready having her own plan for a confrontation and questions for whenever she sees Carter Baizen again.  

Then, shit hits the fan a couple of days later, as Rocio hears through the grapevine that Carter Baizen has left the States and there was only ever one reason he did so. It’s in that moment, Rocio decides to get up and move from her own hideaway and towards something else, because she couldn’t let somethings go unfinished before they were given a chance, she was stubborn in that way.

Rocio turns to look at her sister with a crooked smile, as Violet stops and stares at her from behind her Gucci sunglasses.

“Vio, I think we need to head to Europe for a visit.”  

 You took the weekend to prepare what you were going to talk about and ask him about everything that Mr. Hayes had told you that night. As afraid as you were, you wanted to know if you were just toy for him to use and make fun of -- that would have been a lot easier than what had happened in reality. Carter Baizen dropped you cold turkey -- no more calls, no more meetings. His annoyance had come in and out of your life like a hurricane and in the aftermath you weren’t sure what you were going to do.

It would have been easier if it had been another woman, someone else dragging his attention away and could keep up with the type of lifestyle he lived in. You could live with the feelings growing within your chest if it had been that, hell even if he told you to your face that he had grown tired of you -- that you were a prude.

But, no it had to be something else and that’s what worried the hell out of you.

Carter Baizen has been removed as CEO of Baizen/Wyman Co. effective immediately. Internal reorganization of the company is currently in progress.  

That had been the internal memo sent to everyone in the middle of the week and you knew what that meant -- Mr. Baizen was gone, more than likely due to the numbers game that he had been playing and the new management was going to start laying people off. The one thing that you had sold yourself for all those months back was finally going to happen, but at a company wide level. People were in a panic and due to that came to you, as one of Mr. Baizen’s associates during his short tenure, wanted answers to what had happened and what was going to happen moving forward -- except you didn’t have any of the answers that they wanted to hear and for that you felt some retaliation on their part.   

She was awful chummy with Mr. Baizen back then.

Heard they went to galas together. Dressed to the nines.

You were too tired, and secretly heartbroken, to deal with the whispers of coworker so you often found yourself eating lunch in your office, while going through the numbers to give you something to think of something else besides the hell this company was going through. The company that had been your safe haven, the thing that held you down through every emotional hell you wanted to hide from was slowly turning into something else -- a place you wanted to leave, and you wanted to blame Carter Baizen for that too.

“So, what do you plan on doing about it?” you jump slightly to see Nick with his burrito and lunch sitting across from your desk, as you were unaware that you were speaking out loud this entire time. You stare at him with wide eyes, as he smiles at you. A friend you didn’t know you really had until everyone was giving him all the work that needed to be handed to you.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, as he sighs. Even if you didn’t know it, the man loved you like a sister and had seen more of your personality these past couple of months than in the five years he had been working with the company, but if there was one thing he hated was the hesitation that you showed when it come to certain aspects of your life. You were still young, you needed to bloom and it wasn’t here.   

“Well, I think you should leave,” he says with a smile, as you frown before Nick continues, “I think you have given this company enough of yourself. First, working all those years quitely under Wyman, then whatever you did with the Baizen guy.”

“I--did--”

“Don’t lie,” Nick reprimands you before taking a bite out of his apple, “I saw the numbers back in that meeting, only for nothing to happen -- only for you to take on all these new jobs. I don’t need to know what you did, but it stopped the inevitable for awhile.”

“I didn’t sleep with him,” you explain, embarrassed and defensive, as he simply nods.

“I never said you did,” Nick fights you back with a soft voice, as if he knows it was something else completely, “But, it changed you and I don’t think this company deserves all that you have given to it.”

“Then, what should I do?” you can’t help but ask, as Nick laughs. He shakes his head before going into talking about what he has been thinking about for awhile now, for both you and himself.

“Take everything you have learned and use it for something else,” Nick pulls out a card from his jacket pocket and hands it to you, “Make a difference.”

HYMAN’S INC. -- NONPROFIT CONSULTING

Nick gets up with his lunch, as you keep looking back from the small piece of paper with his husband’s last name to the smiling man, and states before leaving your office: “Think about it.”

You think about it, for a good long while with the pros and cons of leaving the company you have worked with since straight out of college graduation to leaving it for a newer company that deals with such a thing -- a concept you haven’t really thought of before. You do your research and think about your past. You make calls and polish your resume before meeting with Sam -- Nick’s husband and talking out what they want from you and that they have been looking for someone like you for quite awhile.

It’s isn’t exactly being an accountant, but it takes in all the values you had forgotten about and all the skills you had honed under Carter Baizen.

Before the new management gets the chance to do anything, you turn into your immediate resignation.

You might not know where Carter Baizen is and what he might have truly wanted with you, but even with the mixed bag of emotions you have towards him -- you can’t help but thank him for this new lease on life.

Finale

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (7/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

A/N: for @imcarterbaizen​ old challenge. shout out to my bff @ilsa-faustus because i know nothing about high end brands, and she helped picked the clothes for this. please don’t take the person wearing the dress as an actual visual of the main character, it is simple a reference for you to make a basis out of.  

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 

Feedback is always appreciated.

It’s easy to let work pile up, to let it be the only thing that dominates your mind to and back home from work. Numbers and words are easier to handle the people and emotions, you tend to ignore those until the fester and it’s too late -- work is always there with a straightforward answer in its numbers and it doesn’t talk back. You can disconnect with it and it doesn’t hurt like when a person stops interacting with you, maybe that’s why you could handle Rocio so well. Roci was forest fire that hid after she burned herself out and didn’t come back until she was some semblance of her former self -- for all the insane schemes she had put you through the years, she had never showed you that softer side of her personality -- and you never had either.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the complete truth. There bits here and there, like the garden party, where you would stand by your best (and only) friend if it was called for. And in the same, twisted sort of way -- Rocio tried her best to protect you too. Though, it was too damn early to be sending her cryptic text messages when you had work in the morning

Don’t do it. You’ll just get hurt in the end.    

You move from your bed, as Monsieur makes a loud meow at the interruption to his sleep. You check the time again to see that it’s 4am. You groan and wonder what she means, roll around a bit more -- forgetting all about the message and going back to those strange dreams filled with cold numbers and equally as icy blue eyes -- not that you remember anything when your real time to wake up when morning comes around.

However, Carter Baizen isn’t the same type of rich person as Rocio. He likes poking and prodding at people in his own way until he finds something that bothers them. It had taken him a long while, but once he had found a weakness of yours; he went in for the kill. You were a natural workaholic and while it was something that he admired, it was also something he exploited after the gala event incident. No, it wasn’t that he made you work more, but in his own cheekiness of mentioning how he could ruin the events leading up to gala.

Since agreeing to being his plus one, it had opened some type gate to him trying to get a rise out of you. In the events you needed to attend, he was always dressed to the nines in Hugo Boss suits, but the moment someone turned around he was always making some type of slide remark and he did in moments where the possibility of getting caught was high. At this point you weren’t sure if he was trying to make you mad or trying to make you laugh. As in the current moment, Carter Baizen had taken you to a quick dinner with some “very”  important people in downtown Manhattan.

Personal assistant could be added to your resume at this point, but you weren’t sure that the scantily clad woman next to the man was here for the same reason as you. The man was complaining to the waiter about his steak when you hear a small murmur above the classical music.

“Always does it,” you glance to your right side to see sparkling blue eyes and a wagging eyebrow and you put two and two together. This man of high status complained about his steak to get it cheaper all the time. You don’t know why, maybe it’s the lack of sleep, the way he shakes his head with a silent laugh, or just how ridiculous the situation is that it has you letting out a snort, catching everyone’s attention as you grab your handkerchief pretend to sneeze.

“Excuse me,” you manage to say, as the man simply scolds you before going back to talking with Mr. Baizen. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face for a moment, one that you try to hide behind the wine glass, as the meeting continues.

However, after everything is said and done, after the drunk business man and his “date” leave, Carter Baizen can’t help but let out a loud laugh into the humid New York air as your shake your head.

“What an idiot,” Carter lets out with while placing his hands into his pockets, you just shake your head but can’t help but agree silently, not that you would ever tell him. However, as he runs a hand through his hair with laugh lines around his eyes, you can’t help but think it looks good on him compared to all the other times you have interacted with him.

“You’re child, Mr. Baizen,” is all you’ll say on the subject, as he keeps laughing.  

The second time you think Carter Baizen is playing with you is when you come back from lunch and have a beautifully suited woman sitting on your desk. Her blonde hair is flowing to her shoulders. She’s wearing a pure white suit and accessories all over her hands and neck that you are sure cost more than you’ll ever make. However, the thing that stands out most are her high heels that shine gold in the artificial light, you pause momentarily out fear at the entrance of your office door, as beautifully painted brown eyes stare at you. Her mouth twitches just a little as you duck your head in.

“Umm, where you waiting for me?” you ask timid to stare, much less speak to such a stylish woman. It was easier with Rocio after years of friendship, but this woman was something all together. She drops down her legs from the desk and smiles.

“I’m Cameron,” she explains as you close the door, “One of Carter Baizen’s personal stylists, but for today I’ll be handling your dress attire for the gala.”

“I don’t think I need help dressing up,” you freeze up mortified at the attention and money suddenly being placed into what you wore, something that you still aren’t used to even after that shopping spree, “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“Ah, he said you would say that,” Cameron just keeps smiling while pulling out her phone and relaying a certain message, “Mr. Baizen says: Tell my lovely date, that I am personally paying for your services. It is a waste of your time and my money not to have her at her best, especially with so many potential donors for the children’s hospital. If not I could find someone with --”

“Please stop ,” you groan out, as she gives you a pointed smile, “So what do you need of me?”

“Your body,” she states as your eyes grow wide at her tone. She stands up, heels echoing on the linoleum, and crosses the distance between the two of you before pushing you outside once more, “And for you to do everything I say without a fuss.”

“I-I can try,” you say nervously as she drags your across the office and into the elevators. It isn’t much of a scene, but Cameron’s outfit and you just being out is enough to have a few eyes staring at you. Nick looks on from the water cooling station before waving at you to have a good whatever it is you’re doing.

“Thanks!” you yell back, as the blond chuckles behind you. You’re a little fearful over her next words as she takes you to the elevator -- where she is leading you, you have no clue.

“Just watch, we’ll have Carter Baizen graveling at your feet, sweetie.”

You don’t know if you should be excited or angry at the man who you are sure will be laughing about this later.

 Carter Baizen isn’t sure why he is feeling so nervous as he walks around the large hallway leading to the gala he is too attend this evening. He is perfection in a black on black Armani suit with his hair slicked back in just the right angle. He had his selling pitch ready for anyone that is even hesitating to give tonight with the charm amped up to 10x more than usual. Nothing could get in his way tonight, except that his date wasn’t here yet. Cameron had messaged him that there were few problems with the original dress and she was getting a new one last minute. It meant that you didn’t come together as planned, now he was waiting with no updates -- something that drove him a little stir crazy. He’s about have a very angry phone call with one of his favorite stylists, but then he hears it.

“And who are you with, miss?” the maitre d asks.

“I’m Mr. Carter Baizen’s plus one,” there is an unusual pitch to the voice that is usually so sarcastic and fiesty with him, but Carter at this point knows it by heart. Blue eyes look up and freeze at the sight in front of him. Hair pinned back with just a bit of makeup but bright red lips. They match your knee-length dress and jacket in its red-and-black combo with red heels to finish the combo.

He’s mesmerized, making a reminder that he needs to give Cameron extra the next time he sees her. He gets tunnel vision for a moment, as you get closer to him -- a worried look on your face.

“I’m sorry, something happened to the Chanel dress last minute. Cameron found this though,” you sway a little to emphasize the new dress and smile, “I think it looks better though.”

“Yeah, it looks great,” he tries to says as nonchalant as possible before grabbing your hand, though you give him a look that causes him to laugh, “None of that tonight. Smile and sell what you gotta for those kids, but not everything.”

His joke causes you to shake your head but he can feel you ease up just a little at you take your first steps into the large and highly decorated ballroom . Your eyes growing for moment.

“Mr.Bai--” you start, only to have him cut you off.

“ Tut tut , it’s Carter for tonight,” he reprimands you, which causes you to frown as blue eyes stare at your red lips for a moment. He knows for sure they are going to be a distraction for the rest of the night. But, instead of listening to whatever fears you might have due to fully emerging into the world of the filthy rich and famous of NYC, he just grabs your hand tighter and pulls you head first into the shark den. It was a bit harsh, but he knew you had it in you.

“Don’t forget to smile,” he chuckles quietly as the first old, wealthy couple makes its way to the two of you.

 Carter knows that there might some ramifications in letting you go on your own to talk to people here and there throughout the event. You were fresh meat for them without the cynical nature some rich people had. There was also the chance that someone might get too touchy-feely with you or someone talked in a certain way about your relationship with him because there were also rumors floating around when it came to him. But, he believed in your level-headedness and natural charisma that seemed to shine in the oddest of moments, plus he knew by now that you cared deeply about cause like this.

Nevertheless, he always stays close to you and as he watches you work your magic on the Livingstons, then the Winthrops, hell even the old Vanderbilt heiress falls under your spell as he watches each one of them head up front and make a donation after talking to you. You just might be even better than him, as he watches you laugh and talk to a certain famous news anchor. And for a moment he wonders it this is just all naturally you or something you have cultivated from knowing Rocio for so long. Eventually after talking and mingling, you end up sitting in one of the many side tables, jacket resting on the chair, as he comes to your side.   

“So, how are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, as you look up from your small tray of finger food with a tired smile, though the effect from hours before still hasn’t faded away. He grabs your hand and drags you to the large dancing space. You groan in annoyance, but say nothing, which Carter considers a win as he slips a hand around your waist and you place a hand on his shoulder, frown in place like always. He’s just getting used to it to live with it.  

“It’s nice, I guess,” you explain after a smile, as the song dies and a new one begins. It isn’t the same as the garden party. There isn’t any joking around as the soft jazz music plays and he drags you just a bit closer.

“But, not your thing?” he asks, as you shake your head. You bit your lip in thought for a moment, as blue eyes zoom into the action before you start talking once more.

“Hmm, I’m sure that some people would love this glitz and glamour, spending time dancing and eating the best food while wearing an expensive dress,” you look down motion to said fancy thing before admitting the truth, “But in all honesty, I would rather be eating Thai with Monsieur right now.”

“Monsieur?” he has heard everything you had said, and while he mull over it later, Carter asks about the thing strange in that statement.  

“Ah, my pet cat,” you clarify as he nods, though ready to add something. However, you beat him to the punch, “And yes, I’ve already heard the old cat lady jokes.”

He laugh as you look away in embarrassment but then think about everything you had said on how you would rather be relaxing than putting up pretenses, and he can’t help but agree. So instead of going back to the table were your jacket is placed, he starts heading toward the entrance. In your confusion you protest just a little, though thankful that all your important stuff in a small pocket on the side of the dress as Carter Baizen drags you from the gala event --clock close to striking midnight-- and to god knows where.      

 You never make it an easy job for Carter Baizen to have you enter his car, as you frown and complain that you aren’t going anywhere without knowing to which borough he had in mind. He can’t help but reminisce to the party all those months back and grin before letting you know that you were heading to Brooklyn for some real food -- something your stomach greatly approved of. This lead to you and the Carter Baizen to be sitting in your formal wear on a bench on the side of of the Brooklyn Bridge with a pizza between the two of you. It’s silent for a long while, as both of you take your fill, though you try your hardest to make sure the dress doesn’t get any food on it. The silence eventually bothers Carter too much, as he asks the first thing that pops into his head, while staring at the murky waters not that far away.

“So, do you enjoy this type of stuff,” he asks as you turn to look at him, searching for a further explanation, “Charity, helping people?”

“You’re really are a rich boy,” you say with a little malice, as if you had an old anger for something you couldn’t stop years ago, “But, not everyone has the type of money to have preventative care or to pay for their medicine.”

“Who?” he can’t help but ask because he knew the everyone at Baizen Co. had a pretty good healthcare packet compared to other companies, especially you. So, it had to be something connected to your past and it go him curious.

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut him off from learning anything about the part of your life, before taking a bite of pizza, closing off this part of the conversation, “Nostalgia won’t bring the things you love back.”

“How noble of you,” he bites back like a child, as you frown.

“Ah… thank you for the backhanded compliment,” you bite back and he can’t help but be caught off guard that you are calling him back on his attitude in your own way.  

“I didn’t mean like that,” he gives a weak excuse as it’s your turn to have that particular grin on your face, in order to push back the unpleasant thoughts of what you had just talked about.

“Hmm,” is all you say as a response.

“You’re a tough one to crack,”  he admits in annoyance, before running a hand through his hair as it to emphasize his exasperation towards you even more. Though, he should know that the feeling was mutual by now.   

“Would you want it any other way?” you start before going off, while pointing at him with annoyance in your voice, but not much else as when he first meet you,  “Or do you enjoying having those young ladies falling at their feet, calling you nicknames, what are they --Saint Carter, Car Car -- while none of the work gets done? I’ve known you long enough to know that you appreciate efficiency over anything else.”

“Ah, you have me there,” he states with a shiteating grin on his face at your little tirade, leaning back onto the bench, full from the meal as he adds on,“Spitfire.”

“Now that’s a compliment, Mr. Baizen,” you nod, before adding much to his surprise, “So, got any good stories to tell?”

“Like what?” he asks while turning just to look at you -- more carefree than usual underneath the moon and streetlights that he wished he had a camera to capture the moment.  

“Like Texas or Machu Pichu?” you tease, remembering what Rocio had told you once from her own stories,  and hopeful to move the discussion into something happier, “Maybe even that Bass famous rivalry?”

“You really wanna hear about all that?” Carter asks, a curious uptick in his voice as he wonders why you would want to know about all the stupid things he had done back in his youth. You just shake your head and laugh.  

“Entertain me,” ( It’s a date isn’t it?) is the thing you want to tack on, but shut your mouth at such a thought, regardless of anything else this man was your boss ahead of anything else.

You pause even more staring at the pizza in your hand, as Carter starts telling you stories that have you laughing at his antics and the general attitude that all these rich people had, but you could see how this allowed Mr. Baizen to con them, though things didn’t always end up well for him as times either. And while you enjoy the rest of the night, you can’t help but think towards the end  -- when the hell did your view of Carter Baizen change?  

Don’t do it. You’ll just get hurt in the end.    

You hear Rocio’s words ringing in your head, completely unaware that said man was looking at you like you have hung yp all the stars in the sky.

Part 8

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (6/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?” 

for at the now @imcarterbaizen​ ‘s 4k challenge. 

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Montreal.

You had only seen her once in your life, after you had fallen off the ice sheet of the sidewalk that cold winter break you had spent chasing after the mirage (across the US and into Canada) that Rocio had fallen in love with so deeply. Said woman graduated the semester before (Rocio was a “super senior”, though she denied it) and instead of staying in contact with your best friend --her own childhood friend-- Roci was driven to damn near madness trying to contact her, only to find that said woman was engaged and enjoying her freedom for the last time. Rocio pleaded for her love, it wasn’t any different from now.

You ran through the crowd and pushed your way along to see a very still and wet Rocio watching a beautiful, now divorced, woman walk away from her the 2nd time. You only caught a glimpse of her, gold and white dress with simple jewelry and hair pulled up high. There isn’t any emotion on her face as she disappears.

It’s Montreal all over again, as you grab Roci before she fall to the floor. Henry, her younger brother comes over quickly and drags the two of you inside of the family’s garden home, the people are muttering to themselves, watching like hawks but doing nothing more and you can’t help but feel bitter anger rise in you at how this will only push Roci back.

“Senna, I love you . Senna, I’m sorry ,” you hear the tall woman murmur to herself, as you almost let out a sob at how broken she sounds, just like back then with a broken hearted look on her face. Heidi shakes her head from the sidelines, unsure of what to do with her eldest child, as the four of you cross the large and highly decorated wooden doors -- your time Carter Baizen completely forgotten as you watch over and listen to Rocio over the rest of the weekend.

Rocio and Senna --flower and dew-- things that are supposed to be together, but never will be.

“Rich people can’t fall in love,” Rocio looks at you haunted, like she knows something you don’t, with those glossy green eyes of her, “It’s just a sick game of compromises and titles, who can be who first.”

And maybe you take those words too close to heart.

Carter spends the rest of his weekend and the first two days of work doing damage between his own connections with Rocio, but mostly because there are pictures all over social media of him dancing with a “mysterious woman”, though some people already know and others could figure it out if they try hard enough -- like Ellis had on Monday morning. Carter groans at the memory.

“So, is this gonna be your thing now?” Ellis sits back while looking at his phone, Carter knows that he is looking at a image of himself and her dancing in the garden party festivities. While, it wasn’t high school, word still gotta around just as quick, though he had been careless as well, “Going out with the help? Thought you would do better than that at least. Keep aiming big, no?”

“I’m not aiming for anything,” Carter grows defensive as he runs a hand through his hair in frustration, but Ellis gives him a look of disbelief, even the self-made man didn’t believe himself because Carter had woken up dreaming of her, of her soft laugh, of her endless loyalty to her best friend -- and even to him, from what he had heard her talking, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t help but find something admirable in that.

Carter stays silent, as Ellis shakes his head.

“You have a soft heart for pretty things, Car,” Ellis states with a laugh as blue eyes keep staring at him, “But don’t let them break it again, especially the quiet ones.”

Carter shakes his head at the advice, before turning to look at his old friend with completely seriousness as his thoughts drift over how serious you were over the money that couldn’t be accounted for, that even he didn’t know where it was going anymore. Carter frowns as his blue eyes meet his friend’s and close associate.

“If we’re talking seriously right now, I have a few questions to ask you.”

He doesn’t want to remember the rest of the how the conversation went as he stares at the New York skyline in the afternoon sun, before taking a deep sigh. He hopes he isn’t doing what Ellis had brought up -- he couldn’t be falling in love again, that wasn’t the end game anymore. But, here he was worrying that you hadn’t come into work the past two day, hoping that everything was okay -- even if it was Rocio. Carter knew he could reach out to you at any moment, but no -- he wasn’t going to play that game anymore.

However, Carter Baizen is a weak man when he realizes he wants something, he keeps searching it out trying to catch a glimpse of it for a moment, trying to find a way to make it his. He had done all this once before, even lying about important matters of the heart in order to get the girl he wanted in the end, but there wasn’t anything to hold over your head -- I mean there was, but he didn’t want to take that route, of forcing you to be his for appearances sake. So, how was he supposed to go about it?

Then a letter came and a plan began to bubble in his head.    

Your week had been just as hectic though for different reasons as you had stayed with Rocio until she had decided to take an extended rest in her stepfather’s Connecticut home for some time. She hadn’t said anything besides goodbye and had contacted you since, though you were always checking her instagram only to be welcomed with nothing but scenic shots and one or two quotes. You worried like any best friend would, but Rocio was a grown woman and thus you could only hope for the best. Thus, you spent the rest of the week playing catch up with your work and taking care of Monsieur after having him stay with your annoying next door neighbor.

“Another meeting with the boss,” Nick gives you a questionable stare, as he gets ready to leave, as you are carrying piles of folders and your laptop in front of the elevator as the clock strikes 6pm.

“Just a lot of things to look over,” you explain with shrug,”Especially with this gala he now added. It’s annoying--”

“But, you enjoy it,” he responds, only to laugh lowly at the look on your face, “Don’t be shy, I see it when you talk about the events. You should be proud, not everyone has the patience to deal with all these people.”

 “Thanks,” is all you can say for the praise with a sincere smile as he leaves for an elevator heading to the bottom parking structure, but the thought almost made up with dealing with Mr. Baizen all the time. It wasn’t that you were over the hill over Nick’s praise or that Mr. Baizen annoyed you --though that wasn’t a complete lie sometimes-- but it was good to know that someone saw your actual dedication to everything that you did, especially over the sleepless nights and general loneliness that came with this type of work.

The ride up is quite since most people leave by 5:30, though you had always made it a habit to stay and work as much as you could in order to get the work done and off of your mind, though it had just lead to Harold and the former CEO to add more to your pile. Carter Baizen wasn’t exactly like that, but there was more research and outreach that come with event planning, that you had to quickly pick up and learn about. You spent most of the day calling and double checking, while most nights were spent with numbers, though it wasn’t as lonely as it was sitting in a dark office floor by yourself.

But, you would die before telling Carter Baizen that you somewhat enjoyed his company.

“Good evening,” you smile as politely as you can to the immaculately dressed man as he turns form looking at his laptop to greet you with a serious face, that you aren’t used to, as you sit down across from him like every Friday.

“Hey,” is all he lets out at the sight of you in a black skirt and blue button up, before remembering your best friend, “...how is Rocio doing?”

“As good as she can be, though I don’t blame her for leaving the city again,” you shrug, though feeling a slight appreciation towards the man for thinking about Rocio, even if they might have the best opinion of one another. It’s then that he decides to move towards a more personal topic.

“Have you seen---” he starts, curious as to if you even care about those few moments you shared a couple of days ago, the ones he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Yes, Roci’s sister is very into telling me all the juicy Upper East side gossip when she can,” you explain as he has a vague memory of the much younger Violet, though his ears pick up over what you say in the end, “And as much as I appreciate your concern, this isn’t my first rodeo. I can take care of myself.”

You smile softer than he is used to and Carter swears that his heart stops for a moment. You go over the events for the upcoming month since there is a children’s center opening under the Baizen Co. name and other little events as there are events all over New York dealing with children and their needs when they aren’t in school -- a major center of philanthropy for the old CEO and his ( former , from what you have heard) wife. It is then that Carter brings up the gala and puts his plan into action.  

“So, what do you think?” he asks, as you look over the the small envelope and letter addressed to him.

“This gala would be a great opportunity for the fundraising side of the corporation, but there is a mandatory couples clause to the gala,” you state, while looking at the letter and not noticing the huge shit eating grin on your boss’ face,  “Do you have anyone to be your plus one?”

“If I told you that I’m looking at her right now,” he leans a little closer, as his elbows find the upper part of his desk as he leans in a little more to annoy you.

“What?” you grumble, but that doesn’t stop Carter from moving forward with his plan, “ That’s very unprofessional, Mr. Baizen.”

Then, he goes in for the killing blow.

“Not up for this type of challenge,” he questions with a grin like a little kid as you frown at how he throws your words back at you, “Or I guess I could go with some super model actress, maybe even make a spectacle.”

You slamming your hands onto his desk catches him off guard, but he can’t help but love the angry look on your face at his comment and the idea of him potentially ruining everything you had worked on to make the company look presentable and keep going, regardless of how much was his doing. You take a deep breathe and Carter can’t help be think that he really likes this side of you. God, he must really be a masochist.

“I’ll be your plus one, Carter Baizen, ” you let out lowly, as Carter feels a spark of excitement and something else that he hasn’t felt in a very long time when you say his first name in that way, “But, you’re on a very thin rope during the whole event.”

“Completely understood,” he smiles as he leans back into his leather seat, as you shake your head before filling out the card and putting away with the reminder to mail it out before the next of next week. The meeting ends quickly after that, as Carter asks if you need a ride home once more.

You say no once more and disappear down the street, but as he drives back to his apartment Carter can’t help but feel like he won something tonight.

Part 7

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (5/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: 2.7k! ;A; 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part Time Event Coordinator.

It is something you decide to put one night on your resume after going over how much time you had spent creating and showcasing the wonder and charitable nature of the company since Mr. Baizen took over. Yes, you still had your old job and worked the hours necessary for them -- filling in all the dirty numbers that the CEO didn’t want to show the world, but even the numbers don’t add up for Carter Baizen sometimes. There were several thousands missing at a time, sometimes the numbers just didn’t add on -- at first, you had thought it was just something related to the shady dealings that Mr. Baizen handed, but there were even moments where he was confused, but with a flick of the wrist or a signature it was moved from his desk and ignored you. You had frowed the first time that he had done this, only for him to give you a shrug, throwing away money seemed so easy for him.

“ Get a lawyer, just in case, ” that’s what Rocio had told you the other day when you talked about the current details of your job, a relief that you hadn’t been working that weekend. But, who in their right mind would go against Carter Baizen -- the more time you spent with him, the more you realized how much of New York he had come to own. There was a little part of him everywhere, even owning a small portion of the Jets -- I mean, who did that ?  

However, you had also come to understand that Carter Baizen, without any of his family’s money, was a man that struggled to prove he had some type of worth to whoever looked down on him, you had seen this happen once.

“Carter Baizen threw away all his inheritance, pulled his father’s company to the brink,” they whispered, a little too drunk late into the night.

“Now, look at him, pretending he cares about inner city kids,” they, those socialites with nothing much to do besides drink, giggled as your eyes flickered to them and Mr. Baizen passing by and though he seemed unfazed there was a tightening of his jaw you seemed to notice -- you were noticing a lot of things recently.  

You stare at the word document for a moment before calling it a night. You’re still unsure of who Mr. Baizen was and what was his endgame to all of this, but at least you could be prepared when it all fell, or at least when he decided to finally fire you, which was the least he could do.

 Truth be told, Carter Baizen had lost his endgame years ago, when she got married a second time, when she had her kids, and a winery somewhere in Northern California. A lot of the things he had now, didn’t coincide with what he had wanted at the start of this long money marathon, but without a set end -- he kept running and doing what he had learn to do best -- take things from others. The problem was that despite all his misgivings and foolish choices, the former CEO of Wyman had been a charitable man, as such there were contracts and grants to follow through with, along with dollars to match and giveaway.

It wasn’t something he was looking forward to, but then he had found the perfect person for it.

“Mr. Baizen, I have the report completed for last night’s donations,” your voice echoes from the entrance of his office, as blue eyes look up from his laptop to look at you -- dark business pants and a white blouse-- before motioning for you to come in, whatever he was doing forgotten for the fun he found the rest of the night.  

“I’ve told you Carter is just fine,” he waves his hand dismissively, as you hand him the report and take a seat across from him, preceding to work on whatever else you have on your plate.

Ever since that first charity event, Carter had roped you into doing all of them for the spring season. He knew it wasn’t an easy task doing everything he threw at you, but you did it to perfection and he was proud of his little employee, letting you in on little perks that some threw themselves to try to grab on the first day -- like letting you calling him Car if you wanted, spending dinner time together, things he knew people only dreamed off -- but with that look in your eyes as you sat down, he knew it was a no-go tonight as well.

“Are you sure this is how much the Wallaces gave this time around?” he asks, skimming through the end where all the numbers connected, as you look up from your computer and nod, “ Cheapskates.”

You let out a small puff of air, but cover it before it can turn into a laugh. Carter can’t help the small uptick of his lips at the sound that managed to escape, before shaking his head and going through the rest of the documents you had brought him. Events were already planned months in advance, as you listed them all out -- ready for his approval, though he did find ways to get arise out of you -- just to see to roll your eyes and give him the best explanation as to why.

“Are you sure this is the appropriate blue for this theme?” he questions, a shiteating grin on his face as you look up from the laptop to see him leaning on the desk a bit more, while pointing to the color scheme for the summer boat race a few months away. You tell him to give you the paper, as you turn the page.

“This blue matches the color the foundation we’re supporting,” you explain, as he nods though not really paying any attention, he just wanted to see you work through it -- give him your explanation as to why you made all these choices so far. Carter might not have enjoyed all of this, but he liked seeing all the work you accomplished and how you seemed to be doing it for a good cause as well.

“I hope you understand why I chose it now,” you finish, though clearly knowing he wasn’t paying attention before going back to playing with the numbers on your screen.

Trading questions and remarks until 9pm had become the norm, and while he didn’t do it as often so did having some dinner through one of the apps he had downloaded the other day. Most of the fancy restaurants he knew didn’t deliver, but you were well-versed enough with what was around the building to give him some suggestions. At first it had just been for him, too tired to get his own dinner as you worked on, but now there was just enough for two people.

“Look you can either eat the kung-pow chicken,” he states with pushing the plate in your direction, “Or let it go to waste.”

You grumble your appreciation as Carter laughs taking another bite of his own meal with a self-satisfied feeling bubbling through his body, as he looks out towards the New York skyline. However, all things must come to end, as they do every night when the clock strikes 9:30 and the two of you are ready to leave, not to meet again for another week, as you head towards the street --ready to wait for a certain someone-- as Carter leans out of his all-too familiar car.        

“Would you like me to drive you home?” Carter asks. He had been asking the same question since these nightly meetings started. Sometimes, he was close as you debated being murder to walking to the station alone, but never once had he gotten the chance to get you in his car again, like he had back in the party.

It’s wasn’t going to be any different tonight, as a r ed 911 Carrera Porsche zooms in front of the two of you, Rocio grins as she waves at Carter from the front seat.

“Thank you for the offer,” you manage say in an even tone and a professional smile -- and for some reason it’s a rejection that Carter can’t seem to handle though he doesn’t show it, as you get into the red vehicle, “Goodnight, Mr. Baizen.”

Carter lets out a frustrated groan as he runs a hand through his hair before driving his own expensive car to his apartment, unsure of why he is so angry at these constant turn of events and just exactly why they won’t leave his mind anymore.

Oh, Carter Baizen has it bad, he just doesn’t know it yet.

 Heidi Castelo-Ashford constantly worried about her children, even if they didn’t care due to them being older now, but the one she worried about the most was her eldest -- Rocio. Being the only child of a model and a real estate agent wasn’t easy for Rocio, watching what happened to her father and then seeing her mother get married again and have more children --- well-educated and privilege beyond what one could imagine as old New York money, made her lash out even more. However, through thick and thin, there was someone that was a constant in her daughter's life -- you, because Heidi knew that isn’t it wasn’t for you Roci wouldn’t have made it this far in life, would have ended up in even worst situation.

Even if she didn’t see you often, you were like a 2nd daughter to her. An open invitation was always there for you, and this time Rocio (for whatever reason) had decided that the two of you would attend her mother’s annual garden party supporting various art foundations. So, here you are a pretty expensive summer dress and heels, as Rocio downs her 3rd margarita before it even hits 11am. Her mother waving from afar, as you return the greeting.   

“Roc, why are we here again?” you question, as green eyes scan the lavish tables and guests mainly dressed in white, “Who are you trying to bang?”

“I’m trying to reconnect with someone,” she explains before getting another drink from the waiters moving around, “Mom said Montreal came back.”

“Oh shit,” is all you manage to say, as you look scan the area for the moment. Montreal, or rather the person you had gone to the blasted city to had returned --potentially as the prodigal child-- the one that had humiliated Roci all those years ago, and you knew you had to be here.  

“Any game plan?” you question, only for Rocio to shake her head. It was kind of scary since she always had one before she threw it out the window, at least she was one step ahead for now, “Well, I’m here if you need an extra butt cheek.”

“I’ll holler if I need help,” she says calmly, almost too much so for some who has had 4 drinks in less than an hour, but you know that if she wanted you there she would have told you, as she marched into a world you didn’t know very well.

Outside dealing with Rocio, her family sometimes, and now Mr. Baizen -- you weren’t from a world like this -- hell, you could barely make the rent sometimes. You stood around for awhile, before Heidi grabbed you and began showing you around, soon more people were gathered around you, as if it had caught wind of who you were and your connections to a certain someone, unaware that someone had also heard that you were there as well.

“And have you thought of leaving Wyman?” an elderly woman that seems to be Heidi’s friend ask and clearly ignoring the recent change in ownership, as they have been going on asking you for the past 20 minutes about your personal background and current aspirations -- to which you didn’t back down from. You were sure that they were judging you, but you shrugged it off -- Rocio’s attitude clearly rubbing off as Heidi just gave a hesitant laugh.

“I actually--” you start off, only to have a hand grip your hip tightly as you look to see an annoying but perfect looking with his gelled hair wearing white suit and light blue shirt.

“She actually plans on staying there a very long time, but that’s besides the point,” he gives them a smile before dragging you out of the circle, as you try your best to say goodbye to Heidi as the women talk in a higher pitch before shaking their heads in agreement -- like flock of white birds and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“You’re hanging out with the wrong crowd, sweetheart, ” you turn to look back at Carter shaking his head, as you frown at the nickname.

“And your company is better than theirs?” you unknowingly tease him, as he grins pulling you towards a shadier part of the garden where the buffet is taking place along with some dancing. You pause and stare for a moment, still confused as to why both Mr. Baizen and Rocio would hate such a lifestyle, but it was just something you were never meant to understand.

“Much better,” he gives you a boyish grin that doesn’t seem as annoying as all the others he has given you in the time that you have known him. You don’t know if it’s being out of the work environment or his changed demeanor, even though he’s still seems to be puffy around everyone else, that allows you to laugh at his comment.

“Do you come to these often?” you question, pulling his hand from your waist only for him to place it right back. Blue eyes scan the whole area, as if lost in a memory of something else before answering your question.

“Haven’t been to one in a long time,” he lets out in a bitter huff, as you simply nod, as he adds on mysteriously, “But I just had to come today.”

You can feel eyes on you and him, as you turn to see some people talking and you can’t help but shake your head a little because as much as you try to keep it professional, Mr. Baizen had been trying to push that boundary from day one, and it seems that he was just doubling in his efforts more and more though you didn’t understand why. Like now, as some people who you remember from a previous charity event start coming up to the two of you, he moves you forward and onto the stuffy dance floor.

“Mr. Baizen, what are you doing?” you ask harshly, unsure of how to move to the steps of such a formal song, while he twirls you keeping one hand on your hip and the other within his free hand’s grasp.   

“Gotta stake my claim,” he states before tapping your heels with his brown loafers, moving you in the correct position to dance, “Everyone knows you’re running the events for me. Rich people always know the value of a good staff.”

“Like you do?” you question, trying your hardest to keep up with his steps but to also not look down.   

“Something like that,” he flashes you a smile, as you are quick to pick up how to move. His smile brightens as he spins you for a moment, completely lost to whoever else might be watching, as you giggle at being able to follow his lead. One song and then two songs pass without the two of you dancing near the back, nobody daring to bother you but watching every move. Carter makes comments here and there about people you don’t know and you can’t help but laugh, each time heartier than before as blue eyes watch you completely mesmerized.  

But, the spell’s has to be broken sometime, as there is a scream followed by the echo of your name in Rocio’s voice. People turn at the sound of splashing as you turn around to look as many partygoers have gone to go see what was happening near the large fountain near the center of the garden. You let go of Carter in worry for your best friend, you turn and give him an apologetic nod.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Baizen,” is all you manage to say before taking off to where Rocio might be, as he eventually loses sight of you through all the people.

“Yeah,” he says as he runs as hand though his face and groans. The warmth of you still sending electricity throughout his very being, and Carter know this feeling all too well -- he had felt it once before, a long time ago.

What the hell was he going to do now?

Part 6 

#baezens4k #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (4/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: I am kinda of surprised by the amount of people enjoying the story, but thank you for the support. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

Feedback is always appreciated.

After reading the little message left for you, you end up napping through the rest of the weekend. It isn’t until Monday that you really get any solid food in your stomach, as you try to slowly go through all the messages and emails left for you, and while most of them were congratulations and well wishes, you just wanted to hurl your computer out the window. You hadn’t been lying to Carter Baizen when saying that the office team was one of the best, hell Nick had saved the former CEO countless times over with his maths skills, but now that you thought about it -- not all of them had the best personalities, sometimes you hated Harold and there were times you wanted to stick a pen down Marcy’s throat.

You weren’t sure if the suffering you were going to be going through now was worth them still going on and treating each other --and by extension you-- like they did. You were having buyer’s remorse over helping them, and you couldn't help the mixture of anger and guilt that bother you for the rest of the day.

It isn’t until Wednesday that you finally hear from Rocio, as she is standing in front of your apartment door with a short pixie cut and dressed in pure Dior which obviously cost more than everything in your small apartment. She has a bottle of wine with her, but you can smell that she has already started drinking long before that, but you welcome her in anyways as you end up ordering some of your favorite Salvadorian food from down the block and proceed to tell Rocio about everything that she has missed during her mysterious hiatus.

“ Fuck him ,” is all she says after you done and you can’t help but choke on your food.

“W-What?” you cough out before taking a sip of the bottle water from the coffee table.

“I don’t mean it in that way, silly,” she lets out a bubbly laugh from her place on the loveseat, as you shake your head. Rocio always had a way with words.

“I’ve known you long enough to know that you only ever mean it in that way,” you state, reminiscing of all the advice Rocio had ever given you and knowing by now that it usually ended up one way.

“Well, whatever. What I mean is: fuck over that white boy,” she says with a predatory grin as she gets up, making a speech out of it like Robespierre in front of the Jacobin Club, “Show him you ain’t going to break just because he thinks you’re his new plaything, or because you might be scared of what he can do -- that isn’t the you I know.”     

“And how am I going to do that?” you question, as she looks down on you with her bright green eyes. In her element, Rocio could remind anyone of her father as she came up with plans and dealt out sweet words to close the deal.  

“The Cinderella Effect, my dear,” she explains, as she goes back to sitting down, but not before grabbing another pupusa, “Rich people always think poor people want handout, that’s why they’re all Republicans, but you’re gonna work your ass off and show him who’s the boss.”

“And once that happens?” you asks, ignoring the faults and obvious signs that she hadn’t really worked a day in her life either.  

“Let’s take it one step at a time, sweetheart,” she finishes before taking another gulp of her drink, “But, first new wardrobe.”

“I don’t want you paying for anything,” you remark as she frowns. Even after ten plus years of friendship, it felt weird using Rocio’s money that way and she knew that, though there was always little loopholes she found, like that dress back at the party.  

“I know , we’ll go somewhere cheap like Macy’s or TJMaxx ,” she lets out those vile words with a roll of her eyes. 

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” you can’t help but doubt her, something always went wrong in the long run, she was a big picture sort of gal.

“Have I ever steered you wrong before?” she smiles and the answer automatically falls from your lips.

“Yeah, Montreal.”

“We don’t talk about Montreal,” she quips, waving her hand back and forth as if trying to dispel a bad memory, “And I was talking about more recently, you don’t always have to be stuck in the past, doll.” 

“Part of my butt is still stuck on that frozen street, Roci,” you mumble in annoyance, as she doubles over remembering what had happened all those years ago.

“I know, I know,” she says after controlling her laughing fit, as she gives your that soft grin that you can’t help but return -- if only Rocio had the hindsight to know exactly how well her plan would work.

 A couple of days, three shopping sprees, and a nearly maxed out credit card later you and Rocio were a little proud of the wardrobe you had put together and once Monday rolled in you were healthier and in a nicely fitted navy blue blazer and pants ensemble. A little new makes you feel like you can take on the day, as you banter with Nick once more in the elevator.

Everything is fine until you hit your office and see the large pile of paperwork piled on top of your desk. You open the door and almost let out a groan at the handwritten letter on top of it all.

Welcome back. Have these ready by the end of the day. -- CB.      

“He’s gonna be a real slave driver, that one,” Nick says with a shake of his head before giving you a sympathetic smile and leaving.

“That’s the least he could be,” you whisper into your empty office and roll back your shoulders before starting the work day, which you know it going to be a long one.

It’s half way through the first month of working for Carter Baizen, filled with a lack of sleep and dreaming about numbers, that he calls near the end of the work day -- that he needs you in his office. And for the first time since he took over Wyman, you’re standing there in front of his desk as he puts on his jacket. You raise an eyebrow, as he simply motions you to follow him.

“As much as I would follow blindly the next person, you need to tell me where we’re going, Mr. Baizen,” you exclaims as blue eyes look at you with amusement, “Just to let someone know if I end up in the Hudson.”

“You can only be paranoid of someone for so long,” he states with a crooked smile.

“Still paranoid of you,” is all you say on the matter, though it makes him laugh.

“It’s a charity event for the company, nothing but donors,” he explains as you nod and follow. A black car waiting near the entrance of the building takes you near the Rockefeller Center. You keep eyeing him suspiciously, as you enter a large but empty ballroom. You turn to look at him, as he smiles.

“And the event?” you question.

“In a month’s time, so you have plenty of time to figure it all out,” he declares, as you turn to look at him with surprise written all over your face. It almost makes him laugh right then and there.

“That isn’t part of my job description,” you counter weakly.

“Well, I’m the boss and for now on it is,” he laughs a little towards the end before pushing all the paper in your hands.

This was going to be a long month.

 Some nights are filled with sleepless nights while others you can sleep a little better with everything you had done for the day, between playing different events on top of your data work you barely see Rocio -- barely have time to for a social life. However, you don’t break -- you refuse to cry and quit (because you know that’s the underlying motive to his cruelty) a job that you loved so much. Every other night you signed off another pile of work on his desk or send him pictures of another well done step towards the big charity event for the now-Baizen/Wyman Co., immaculate and with a smile.   

His face never shows his true feelings, but you hope it bothers him deep down.

“ Fuck him ,” like Rocio had declared the last time you saw her.

On the night of the event, you are wearing a simple white blouse and black skirt combo. You aren’t here to enjoy the night, but rather to make sure that everything is going well -- running around with smiles and making sure that everyone is having a good time. It feels like your first job out of college, pleasing everyone was the curse of retail. The night is a rush for you that you don’t notice someone watching you the whole night.

‘Thanks to all of you we have exceeded our goals for the 3rd year in a row,” Carter Baizen declares from the stage upfront, turning up that deadly charm of his in his dark Giorgio Armani suit, as the rest of the guests clap -- patting themselves on the back. Blue eyes roaming and taking a secret glee in seeing the old men praising his “philanthropy” were the ones that once used to laugh and sneer behind his back.

However, his eyes stop near the back for a single moment, as he watches you talking to some staff with a tired smile on your face and your hair in slight disarray but everything else is on point, and if Carter didn’t know any better, simply by the aura --confident and exact-- he could automatically tell who was running this event. As much as he hates to admit, you had gone above and beyond all his expectations in the past two months.

In the moment, he doesn’t why he does it.

“However, none of this would have been possible without my wonderful employee ,” he points to you as the spotlight finds you immediately, “In the back!”

Everyone turns to look, unsure of what to do but clap, as he grins though unsure if it is out of arrogance or something else. You blink for a moment, confused as to what is going for a moment before giving a bright, red lipstick matted smile to the crowd and taking a small bow. Your eyes meet his and you keep smiling, tired but proud, and something gets stuck in the middle of his throat.

And in that moment, Carter Baizen was fucked all right.  

Part 5

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (3/10).

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: welcome to the longest chapter so far, even with some changes i do plan on moving forward with the story.  

Part 1 | Part 2 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Monday.

It’s a surprise to your supervisor, Harold, early Monday morning when you sent him a quick text that you will not be coming to work that day due to being sick. It’s not that you don’t have the compt time for it, you have way too much actually, but it still makes him question your actions a little, not that he would say that outloud, especially with Marcy nearby. God knew that woman was ready to flick a sexual harassment filing to HR at a moment’s notice, it was just the age he lived in he guessed. However, that and the usual coffee break gossip leave his head when a man in a blue tailored suite walks into the floor that houses all the accountants and analysts’ offices. He wears confidence in an annoying sort of way, as he calls on everyone to meet him up front with a pair of lawyers behind him.

“My name is Carter Baizen,” the younger man declares grinning at the sound of his own name,”As of last Friday, Wyman Co. is under my direct management.”

The small crowd murmurs amongst themselves, as Carter’s smirk turns devilish. This was his favorite part of the act, reminding others that their livelihoods where in his hands. He might be considered a Saint to some, but to others he was the goddamn devil. It might have not been the best thing, the morally right thing to do but Carter Baizen was here to remind everyone (and himself at times) that he was worth something -- even at the cost of others. However, through all the dramatics, there was something that he needed to know more than anything else -- where his goddamn money was.

“However, it seems that there is some money missing from the annual report and statistics I was given” Carter keeps going on with his act, as he shakes the packet of papers the black-suited man gives him, “I hear you are the best group of accountants and analysts this side of Wall Street.”       

Everyone stays silent as he gives the punchline of his speech, “You have until Friday to find me the missing 2 million dollars, if not this whole department is fired.”

Carter gives the appalled crowd a shiteating grin before leaving, but instead of freaking out like most other groups would - the financial team of what was formerly Wyman Co. huddle up and look at Harold. He drags a hand through his thinning hair before looking at the chubby-cheeked, brown-eyed Marcy.

“Send her a detailed email of everything that just happened,” Marcy nods before running to her cubicle, “I want you guys searching, for any inconsistencies and you send it to either her or Nick -- they’re gonna be our A-team on this. Understood?”

“Understood!”

If only you, fighting with Monsieur over the blanket, knew what you were in for.  

Tuesday.

Rocio’s mother sends you an urgent email on Monday evening asking where her daughter has been since Friday and in all honesty you can’t answer because she hasn’t answered your messages and her Instagram has been oddly cryptic --with dark and blurry shots-- since you left the party. It’s around that time you see the email from Marcy, with her panicked voice ringing in your head-- about what had happened at work, and it doesn’t really surprise you -- the company had been tanking for awhile now, but the thing about Mr. Baizen -- that’s what gets you up with a headache and your best set of footwear.

“How are you even awake?” Nick asks, as you wait for the elevator to reach your level. The dark-haired man shakes his head, as you motion towards the cup of coffee in your hand.

“It’s just like college, pills and coffee,” you state, voice still raspy from your sickness and the lack of sleep the email had given you. Honestly, it felt like that time Rocio made you go to a frat party the night before your last statistics finale. You shrug, as Nick gives you those eyebrows of disapproval though you knew he understood from his own sleepless night as a new dad.

“Let’s do this, Nicholas,” you chug your coffee, knowing that the burnt kind is already being made in the break room.

“Right behind you,” he remarks, as you frown for only a moment.

“Please stop,” you laugh, ignoring the tightness in the back of your neck that you always get when someone is watching you, “I don’t want Matt after me again.”

Nick laughs, as the two of you head to your offices and begin going into the pile of documents that the rest of the floor has assailed your dropbox with, completely unaware of a certain man watching the proceedings, though you are aware the office watching you through the glass walls, making it obvious that their hopes are leaning all on you.   

Wednesday Night.

It’s in the minor details, that’s something you learned early on in this job. You have to be meticulous, if not money could slip out of your hands, and that’s something that rich people hated the most -- losing money that they didn’t spent themselves. But, between hour 5 and hour 12 you get somewhere with a little thing Nick says that makes Marcy laugh during breaktime. It’s the little things that accumulate -- that stupid saying doesn’t leave your head, so you start looking into the little things, a monthly payment here or a downpayment there. It’s all in the same area, though never under the same name.    

“The last CEO bought out his lover with gifts,” you explain to Nick and Harold in the mid afternoon meeting the three of you are having, though that isn’t the half of it. You wouldn’t let them know, if it could possibly spill out and cause a bigger mess -- people still lost their jobs, with this the old boss just looked bad.

“Every dollar accounted for?” Harold ask, as you nod. Nick is going over the numbers once more, because he secretly knows that you’re not that good at math, never been one for a calculated risk.

“So, you agree to present this to Mr. Baizen tomorrow?” Harold asks, bright eyes and grabby hands. You roll back your shoulders and give him a tight smile.

Calculated risks have never been your go to, but look at you now.  

Thursday Night.

Harold sends the report bright and early the next morning, so that Mr. Baizen’s attorneys and whoever else had time to look over it. You just tried to stay alive for the rest of the day. You know what ignoring your illness wasn’t the best thing for you, but your work and livelihood were on the line -- one that you loved dearly. The healthcare benefits could pay if you got sick and maybe if you died, and while that was a little morbid, it was how you felt by the end of day. You hoped you died before you meet said Carter Baizen. However, Lady Luck was not on your side when 4pm rolled around and you were standing in front of his office door at the top of the highrise that housed the company.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Baizen,” you say, holding some folders and in your best business outfit, trying not to lose your voice. The man turns to you and for a moment you’re in shock -- the guy from the party. You want to say something, but you are going to be a professional. You are going to fight for your job, though you can’t help but frown at the crooked grin he gives you while stating your last name.

“So let’s talk,” Carter declares, as he takes a seat and you follow him. On top of his desk are several folders, the whole meeting of the company’s missing money takes nearly 40-45 minutes and you’re surprised he’s paying attention and taking notes, like he cares about the company. However, what catches his attention, ignoring the whole mistress of the former CEO is the markings on your paper from the last few months that aren’t in his report. You’re about to go into that when he finally speaks up.

“I think you should stop talking,” Carter states coldly, as you look at him from across the wooden table. You look at him and back at the paper, hating that you put two and two together so quickly. Carter Baizen had owned Wyman a lot longer than just last week, it was just that the old CEO couldn’t handle what the dark-haired man in front was doing anymore, so he finally bought the old fool out.

It was one of the oldest tricks in the game.  

“You swindle funds into other things, don’t you? Scarier things ,” he doesn’t say anything about your accusation, but the dark look in his blues eyes is telling you to shut up, not that you were ever any good at that either, “And you use your accountant as scapegoats, is that why you fire the whole department when you come in? Every time?”

“Usually,” he remarks while smiling like the cat caught the canary., as you tighten your hands into fists at his carelessness for others, “I could still do it, but you already know.”

“Please don’t fire the department,” you plea angrily, as you slam your hands onto his desk though it doesn’t seems to phase, “You saw how good they are this week. Anything, I’ll even be your fucking scapegoat. But, there are good people out there.”

“ Anything ?” he cocks an eyebrow, as you scowl. Rich people were truly disgusting.

“I mean, not anything . I’m not looking for 50 shades of Gray here, Mr. Baizen,” you try to save yourself by being polite in the end, but his shaking head just shows that he caught the underlying disgust in your voice. However, he chooses to ignore it.

“Well, you’re not Dakota Johnson,” he states and for a moment you want to laugh at his weak rebuttal.  

“I don’t think brunettes are your type, if I recall correctly,“ you answer back as he glares at you, but all you do is shrug -- I mean who doesn’t read a tell-all when it had a the juiciest gossip about NYC, at least that’s how you remember it being promoted. Rocio is the one that really told you everything, she was a talkative drunk, after all.

“Well then, I’ll keep up my end of this bargain,” Carter concedes, almost too quickly, “And you keep yours.”

“Understood, Mr. Baizen,” is all you say before trying around and that’s when everything starts to get dizzy once more, as your fever sneaks up to you with the fear you have been ignoring as well. Carter Baizen could be one scary person if he wanted to be , are your last thoughts as you let out half a curse before blacking out completely. You never hear the rushing footsteps coming towards you.  

Friday Morning.

You wake up in your apartment mid afternoon with Monsieur meowing at your side. You feel awful with your throat clogged up and your eyes barely able to open. It was like you crashed into a monster truck only to get thrown into a brick wall. However, by muscle memory, the first thing you do is check your phone -- a little scared of wondering how you exactly you got here since the last thing you remember is talking to one Carter Baizen, who might be the one that had messaged you a couple of hours ago.

To show you that I am a nice guy, take all of next week off. You look awful, Stats.  But, the following Monday starts your new workload -- CB.

“Oh, Mon. What did I get myself into?” you groan before throwing your phone into the abyss that was your room as Monsieur keeps meowing for your attention.

Part 4

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints. - C.R (1/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen). 

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @baezen‘s writing challenge. largely influenced but st. vincent again, mostly the first part by jesus saves, i spend. this is the first time i write for this character, hopefully i do well and you guys enjoy it!    

Feedback is always appreciated.

“Don’t trust rich white men,” she chants like a prayer as you watch her put on her latest Versace dress for the party.

This has been Rocio’s motto since you had meet her during junior year in college at that frat party. You didn’t understand back then while the daughter of one the biggest investment bankers would cling onto you, a simple scholarship student that came to support her roommate during rush, but she stuck to you like glue ever since. However as much as Roci liked to drink and party, even now in her mid 30’s, there were rules that she follows like a Sunday sermon -- this was the biggest one.

“I know, Roc. You tell me that every time,” you frown while taking off your blue blazer and watch as she puts an aquamarine dress on top of your outfit, green eyes crinkling at how you would look in it. Unlike your best friend, you worked for an acquisitions company as a data analyst and while it wasn’t the most glamours of jobs, you enjoyed playing with numbers in the silence of your office. Once again, unlike Rocio who went from photoshop to photoshoot, and on a odd day played personal shopper to some older women her mother knew -- to keep them “in style”.

“I know,” she sighs before pushing you to put on another dress that fit her image of you a bit more, “But, I just feel something is gonna happen tonight. I just wanna you to be ok, sweetie?”

“Of course, I’m gonna be ok,” you grin, “I got you, Roc.”

“Damn straight, girlie.”

If only you two had been right but the gods of party and fashion likes to play with human hearts every so often.

Since that night all those faithful years ago, Carter Baizen had worked to resurrect himself to be a new man, to prove all those that called him a fuck-up and loser that wasted all his inheritance plus his father’s money. He was taken in under the wing of one his father’s more ambitious friends and only after proving himself in various (legal, ethical, and morally questioning ways) did Carter become partner in this man’s company. Ten years later, he was CEO and president, people feared him and he loved it.

“Well, if it ain’t Saint Carter!” Ellis, the one person who still treated the multi-millionaire like a person, yells as he takes another shot. His latest conquest, a busty redhead, sitting besides him as she gives Carter a smile.

“Is this all you called me for?” Carter smirks, looking at the party in full blast. Blue eyes glances around seeing models and other famous people dancing, he knows there are more illicit activities going on in darker places and years ago he would have revealed in it all. However, to become the man he is now, Carter gave up a lot of his old vices -- drinking, gambling, women. Power was a drug in and of itself, but it could only do so much, hence Ellis’ nickname, Saint Carter -- patron of all of fucking NYC, but at what cost?   

“Why are you even here anyways?” the blond questions, as his boss gives him a devilish smile. It takes Ellis two seconds to figure it all out, “You didn’t!? Fuck, you did!”

Ellis gets up and screams, as various people turn to look at the madman only for him to order a set of drinks for everyone on the house, all in victory of their company’s latest gains. Carter shakes his head and rolls up the sleeves of his blue button up and orders a scotch on the rocks from the nearest waiter as he leans into the black leather couch. The waiter quickly returns and Carter shakes his drink absentmindedly, uninterested in the sudden hollering, and that when the younger man groans and grabs Carter’s drink.  

“No, no, no. You have to celebrate, Baizen,” Ellis lets out a shaky drunk laugh, “Get over that Mrs. Humphrey Reynolds, whatever her name is now.”

“Ellis,” Carter’s business voice cuts the blonde’s excitement but for only a second.  

“I know, I know,” he shakes his head before sitting down again before pointing in the wrong direction of where the entrance is. Finally, saying something that peaks Carter’s interest only slightly, “But, just let loose this one time. The next pair of legs that comes through those doors, you woo for the night or I pay you $100,000.”

Chump change, but Carter Baizen had always enjoyed a challenge.  

Carter lets out an insufferable sigh, but he doesn’t say no to his friend’s suggestions, instead blue eyes watch the glass doors for a few minutes like a hawk as a pair of women walk through -- one giggling  with a cup in hand and the other one holding her the best she can with a weary look on her face. Carter looks at her once, twice over before biting his bottom lip with those pearly whites of his. Ellis’ cursing finally breaks his concentration.

“Shit, so either Rocio Basteri or her friend?” 

“I’d rather try her friend.”   

Part 2

#baezens4k #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #fabiola trying to write #series: of saints #does anyone else want a taglist?

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (10/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

A/N: When I started this story for a challenge a few months back, I did it as an exercise to see how well I could write a character in a setting and with a partner I wasn’t used to for the MC. I grew to love this story and am so happy for the feedback I received, thank you for taking the time to read this story and hopefully you enjoy the ending! 

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Here’s the thing, partying with the young, rich, and famous of Europe is different when you are doing it as a teenager and young adult, compared to being in your mid-thirties. Carter Baizen learns this the hard way during his self-exile, in Paris and then Spain and Portugal. He tries to balance the anger and discontent he is feeling towards Ellis and everything else through partying in the worst way possible, trying to pick up girls looking for a good time -- it last for a good month before he tires himself out.

In a shorter version of his midlife crisis, Carter comes to realize --along with the fact that he still doesn’t have an endgame in plan-- that he isn’t the shady con artist, always strapped for cash he used to be once. He had build himself up from all those failures and destroyed himself all over again with mismanaging the people he kept closest.

He ran and ran until everything caught up with him and he burned out, but he was Carter Baizen -- he would always find a way to reinvent himself and fall  into the good graces of everyone once more, it just took time.

Thus, Carter finds a different method to push all his angry energy into something else --back to his even easygoing route of that stupid college kid that used to volunteer and travel-- as he finds himself going to different associations and charities to find out what he can do.

A year later, Carter finally finds Ellis --drugged up and hidden in Amsterdam-- and he is ready to take the man back to the States, though he isn’t sure what is waiting for him back home. He had only had his companies, now he only had a third of that. In Europe, he had become a member of several boards ro museums and refugee agencies -- he had even gone to some of the areas were his money was being directed. It was filling in a sort of way, but Carter -- looking at the beach he was currently enjoying his time in, seeing the couples and families enjoying their holiday-- felt that he was missing something else.

A thing he almost had a year ago, someone he was sure would move on without him in her life.  

“How are you enjoying yourself?” he asks you later in that night, when you are sitting and staring in admiration at one of the old paintings within the museum. Your eyes flutter from looking at it to him and Carter can’t help the warm feeling flooding into his chest.  

“I swear, it’s been so annoying trying to track you down,” Carter gets dragged from his daydream by an all too familiar voice, as he looks up to see green eyes and a wicked smile. He quickly gets up surprised to see a smiling Rocio, quite the opposite of the last time he had seen her.

“What the hell are you doing here, Basteri?” Carter questions, as he sees the younger sister --Violet-- waving at him from behind her, as Rocio grins. He has to wonder if she has grown since the garden party that seemed like a lifetime ago, he knows he certainly has.

“I’m just here to pick up the trash, Baizen,” she states with a grin and as scary it should seem coming from her, Carter can’t help but feel a bit hopeful at what it could mean for him.

New York.

Though you took some weeks off when you left Baizen/Wyman Co,, you were already thinking about what you can do for your next job to improve and help expand it, like Sam had stated that he wanted to do. You brought out your arsenal when you started towards the end of the year, bringing in the people that you knew and the people that you had meet during the your brief stint with Carter and while it was hard for them to believe -what with all the rumors going around- you still brought in a good handful of them into the new company, as you talked with them and their philanthropic advisors about where they should be putting their trust fund money towards.  

You dug yourself into your work once more, trying to forget a lot of things and even though Nick, Sam, and a dozen other people tried to set you up with someone, it just never worked out but you were already used to that. You move forward and plan the first gala for the company in a small hotel ballroom and while it isn’t like the former events you had planned, it is intimate and everyone seems to be having a good time as you connect people to charities and visa-versa that are particular to their interests.

You aren’t dressed to the nines anymore either (more like a really good find from Macy’s), but you have taken everything you had learned in a short amount of time and turned into something you could be proud of. You just wished there was someone that you could celebrate all of this with. Maybe, that’s why you hear your name being called out by a familiar voice, or maybe you are just going crazy -- that is until you see a familiar figure, though with longer hair, in black lace dress waving at you.  

“Roci!” you can’t help but yell out, as you rush and hug her, much to her surprise.

She looks so much healthier than the last time you had seen her and from what you had heard from Heidi, had been traveling through Europe with her younger sister for quite some time now. And while you didn’t know what had happened between her and Senna --Violet had told they had meet once again by coincidence in Vienna-- you just hoped she was at peace with whatever had happened.  

“Hey, this is a great turn out,” she exclaims with a bright smile, as she puts her arm around your shoulders, “I’m really proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks,” you can’t help but smile and as much as you want to catch up with Rocio after not seeing at her for so long, the call of your name from the other side of the room makes you sigh before you flutter away once more, though with the promise that you can talk after the event is over.

You don’t notice Rocio looking at one of the darker corners of the ballroom and smiling at the lovestruck look on a certain man’s face,  whose eyes are following you for the rest of the evening.

As the night comes to an end, you and Rocio eventually do find time to catch up after your successful event, though you decide to head home instead of going to the afterparty that Sam and Nick had put together -- you were just too tired and Rocio wouldn’t take no for an answer. It lead to the two of you drinking and talking late into the night about all the things you had missed in the past year, but Rocio never brings up Carter Baizen and you’re grateful for that.

It’s when you’re too drunk and finally alone that you allow yourself the time to think, to dream about him.

“Carter…”

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

“Hey, hey, ” you hear from a familiar tone that shouldn’t be near, that shouldn’t be in your cruddy litte apartment and as your senses go into overdrive -- you do the first thing that comes to mind, you hit the blurry thing in front of you.

“Jesus fucking--” it curses as you jump from your sleeping position and see an injured Carter Baizen grabbing his nose, as if trying to stop the bleeding. Due to shock, you hit him in the shoulder once more in order to make sure this isn’t some type of strange dream, as he just curses at you once more.

That’s when you get up and get the first aid kit, as Monsieur watches from his place on the windowsill. You rush back in and make him take a seat on the couch and move his hands before looking to see at the damage you had done, which wasn’t much.

“You’re such a drama queen, Mr. Baizen,” you can’t help but sigh out, as he gives you a glare at the use of his last name, “What are you even doing here? How did you even get in?”

“Roci,” is all the answer he is willing to give you as you wipe his nose just to make sure there isn’t going to be anymore blood coming out, “She told all the things you had been doing, and I just needed to see it -- see you again.”

“If you saw all that, then why didn’t you reach out?” you can’t help but ask, but Carter decides to stay tight lipped for now, as he moves the talk into another direction.

“You’re a real saint, you know that?”

“I’m guessing that’s a compliment coming from you, Car,” you tease, taking a seat on the couch once more, as wide blue eyes look at you for a good minute.

“I--” his mind stops for a moment at the sound of you calling him by one of his nicknames, but before he can say anything on the matter, you beat him to it.

“ Vroom Vroom! ” you mock him, like you had done so many months before and he can’t help but enjoy the familiarity of it.

He laughs at the joke, but stops when he sees that serious look on your face as you start: “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you so many things before you left. I was gonna yell and question you, but now I’m not really sure what to do.”

“Question me about what?”

“I sort of understand now why you left the company, I mean I left for sort of the same reasons -- just not the embezzlement part,” you state, thinking back to the state of the company when you left and all you had found out afterwards, “But, Ellis...on the last night I was in your office said something about a party and a bet you two mad...about me.”

“Shit,” he curses out, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “Can you let explain myself first?”

“I mean, that’s what I am asking you to do,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant as possible about all this,  “But, it’s always hard to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

“Were you always this sassy?” he can’t help but laugh again, as he takes a seat on your couch and proceeds to tell you his version of the story -- how he found out that you worked at Wyman, how he wanted to be an asshole about it, only for it to come back to bite him in the ass in the worst way possible.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you can’t help but ask in indignation and secret joy at the possibility you had sometimes dreamed about since he had left.

“I mean, I sort of fell for the gal that was always saving my ass,” Carter finally admits, waiting for the rejection to follow his admission,“And...I’ve missed her, a lot.”

“Oh,” you are taken by surprise, as Carter waits, though your words sends an electricity of joy when you admit your own secret as well,  “I guess, the feeling is mutual then.”

“ What? ”

“I sort of missed the guy that made my life a living hell for a few months,” you state like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as if you’re simply going over those business reports, but your heart is actually thumping like crazy, “Probably missed him more than I should’ve.”

“So, if this guy asked you out on say a date, no strings attached?” he can’t help but breathe out, blue eyes completely on you,  “What would you say?”

“I would say ordering some takeout and watching some movies would be a good start,” you state just as softly, trying not to break this silly spell that the two of you had fallen under.  

“You always have the best propositions,” Carter grins with this declaration.

“Damn straight, Vroom Vroom,” you matches his grin as Carter just shakes his head at the new nickname, though he can’t the deny the quirk of his lips that you see for a second before he turns to look back at you -- blue eyes shining in a way you have never seen them before.

It’s in that moment you decide to seal the deal, as you grab his cheek and move in just a bit more. You look at him only once, as he bites his bottom lip in anticipation so that make sure you want this just as much as he does. Your breathes mingle together as your lips meet softly and sweetly, as Carter grabs you by the waist and dips you a bit further back into the couch. You only separate when the need for air becomes unbearable.

“Holy fuck,” Carter declares with a dazed look on his face,”You have no idea how lucky I’m feelin’ right about now.”

“I think I might know...just a little,” you giggle out before muttering cornball and kissing him again.

The two of you eventually do order that take out and watch all the movies you can until you’re too tired and kissed out. A simple start and a good rest for two people that have been running for so long and as you cuddle on your old couch, the both of you can’t help but thank that god awful deal you had made all those months back for brining you to where you are now.  

He laughs for a moment at the joke, but stops when he sees that serious look on your face as you start: “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you so many things before you left. I was gonna yell and question you, but now I’m not really sure what to do.”

“Question me about what?”

“I sort of understand now why you left the company, I mean I left for sort of the same reasons – just not the embezzlement part,” you state, thinking back to the state of the company when you left and all you had found out afterwards, “But, Ellis –on the last night I was in your office said something about a party and a bet you two made – about me.”

“Shit,” he curses out, running a hand through his hair in frustration, “Can you let explain myself first?”

“I mean, that’s what I am asking you to do,” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant as possible about all this,  “But, it’s always hard to believe anything that comes out of your mouth.”

“Were you always this sassy?” he can’t help but laugh as he takes a seat on your couch and proceeds to tell you his version of the story – how he found out that you worked at Wyman, how he wanted to be an asshole about it, only for it to come back to bite him in the ass in the worst way possible.

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you can’t help but ask in indignation and secret joy at the possibility you had sometimes dreamed about since he had left.

“I mean, I sort of fell for the gal that was always saving my ass,” Carter finally admits, waiting for the rejection to follow his admission,“And…I’ve missed her, a lot.”

“Oh,” you are taken by surprise, as Carter waits, though your words sends an electricity of joy when you admit your own secret as well,  “I guess, the feeling is mutual then.”

“What?”

“I sort of missed the guy that made my life a living hell for a few months,” you state like it’s the easiest thing in the world, as if you’re simply going over those business reports, but your heart is actually thumping like crazy, “Probably missed him more than I should’ve.”

“So, if this guy asked you out on say a date, no strings attached?” he can’t help but breathe out, blue eyes completely on you,  “What would you say?”

“I would say ordering some takeout and watching some movies would be a good start,” you state just as softly, trying not to break this silly spell that the two of you had fallen under.  

“You always have the best propositions,” Carter grins with this declaration.

“Damn straight, Vroom Vroom,” you matches his grin as Carter just shakes his head at the new nickname, though he can’t the deny the quirk of his lips that you see for a second before he turns to look back at you – blue eyes shining in a way you have seen them before.

It’s in that moment you decide to seal the deal, as you grab his cheek and move in just a bit more. You look at him only once, as he bites his bottom lip in anticipation so that make sure you want this just as much as he does. Your breathes mingle together as your lips meet softly and sweetly, as Carter grabs your by the waist and dips you a bit further back into the couch. You only separate when the need for air become unbearable.

“Holy fuck,” Carter declares with a dazed look on his face,”You have no idea how lucky I’m feeling right about now.”

“I think I might know…just a little,” you giggle out before muttering cornball and kissing him again.

The two of you eventually do order that take out and watch all the movies you can until you’re too tired and kissed out. A simple start and a good rest for two people that have been running for so long and as you cuddle on your old couch, the both of you can’t help but thank that god awful deal you had made all those months back for brining you to where you are now.    

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write

[the-canary]

Languages of Saints - C.R (8/10)

Summary: A deal isn’t supposed to involve feelings, right? (Reader/Carter Baizen).

Prompt: “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

A/N: Wow, we are nearing the end. This chapter isn’t the best, but it’s full of revelations as we head towards the end. I hope you enjoy it! 

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 

Feedback is always appreciated.

The rest of the charity events for the season don’t call for a date to accompany Carter Baizen, but there is always the lingering person in the events afterwards that ask the CEO about you. Whatever you had told them had captivated them to some extent, either that or your presence was just a breath of fresh air in this mundane but occasionally scandalous world.

Carter couldn’t help but agree. Maybe, that’s why he decides to take you to one of the last events for the season in one of those old museums that are funded by that old New York money. Cameron had dressed you in a simple, black Alex Perry dress to match his own attire once more. He watched you flutter around like a hummingbird talking to all the people you had met before and having them introduce to others. You smile and converse and even with some rude comments here and there (to the point where he wants to come to your side and snatch you away) -- you simply smile with a straighten back.    

He doesn’t understand how someone wasn’t ever born in this type of world could slide in and out of it with such ease like you had nothing to do with it at all. It’s frustrating, but it’s also one of the things that draws him to you.

“How are you enjoying yourself?” he asks you later in the night, when you are sitting and staring in admiration at one of the old paintings within the museum. Your eyes flutter from looking at it to him and Carter can’t help the warm feeling flooding into his chest.

“It’s good,” you exclaim with a smile and go on to talk about some of the things you have learned from tonight, “Though, I am hoping for some Thai later.”

He laughs as you give him a wink. You go back to looking at the old painting, from some dead artist whose name he won’t remember, but Carter knows he’ll remember this moment alongside with those few hours afterwards when you’re laughing and eating in a little shop not too far away from your home.

Fuck, Ellis was right. Carter Baizen was completely head over heels in love.

A few days later, this is a completely different story as he looks over the papers that one of his attorneys had brought over. Things can never be an easy thing for Carter Baizen because as he realizes one thing -- another comes crashing down around him. He looks at the papers that night in anger and frustration as he paces all over his room wondering where he could have gone wrong.

He knew Ellis was moving money here and there for certain purposes, he just didn’t know how much and to who. And now, he was getting flashbacks to his youth of running from place to place because of the debt he owned and the people he had conned. Carter slams his hands on the table and curses into the suffocating darkness --  a long time ago, he would have run away, but staring at all the names listed on a piece of paper, blue eyes can’t help but narrow with a mix of emotions.

For once, Carter Baizen had things to protect, as he laughs at the irony of laughing at a certain accountant all those months back.

However, it isn’t like you don’t have your own set of problems what with work and gossip running amuck the department on what exactly what was going between you and Mr. Baizen. You heard whispers here and there, but you didn’t pay any attention to them, unless Nick was laughing at the sheer audacity of them during lunch, though it made you stop for a moment -- like, the thought bothered you but not in an unpleasant way, but simply in annoyance.

What couldn’t someone like you be with Carter Baizen?

It was a thought that confused you, but you pushed it to that back of your head when working though it seemed to pop up more and more since the last gala event and more so now that you had to meet said man for your Friday meeting. You had taken a deep breath before taking the elevator to the highest floor, promising yourself that you were going to be a professional. You just didn’t expect that Ellis Hayes was going to be there instead of Mr. Baizen, looking through the drawers for something. His hazy eyes stare at you for moment, as you stand at the entrance, before a crooked smile blooms onto his face.

“Ah, the party girl,” he says with a with a light laugh, as you can’t help but give him a look filled with confusion. Yes, you had meet Carter Baizen beforehand in a party, but how did he know that?

Ellis looks up from a moment as he brushes a long strand a hair from his face. He keeps babbling, but you are unsure if it is towards you or just himself.

“Damn, I knew Car never backs down from a challenge,” he remarks with a laugh, his eyes running down your body for a moment as you take a step back,“But, damn -- you’re a real Cinderella now, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, come on! Don’t tell me you don’t know?” Ellis lets out a bitter laugh, “Back in that party, bet the man cold hard cash he couldn’t bed ya. Now, look him, head over heels -- at least, that Reynolds chick was prettier.”

Ellis sprawls himself on the couch before moving forward with his drunken antics once more, as you stand there frozen for a good awhile. You thought you had understood Carter Baizen, at least somewhat but at the words of one of his closest associates, you didn’t think you knew at all the man that you had gotten at least somewhat close to these several months. You remember the party -- you remember lots of things: fighting, discussing things, sharing laughs and tales here and there, the dancing at various points, even that first night near the Brooklyn Bridge -- hell even, selling your life over to his whims for the sake of those you worked with.  

Was this just a long term transaction for Carter Baizen? A game where the end was you in his bed?

You had heard it once in his stories --the one with that beautiful blond and her lost father, and there were others too-- but you would have imagined that such a man would have grown out of those games by now, but with all the darker aspects of his personality and business dealings -- you couldn’t help doubt.

“I think I should leave so that you and Mr. Baizen can discuss whatever you are here for,” is all you manage to say  before leaving the room. The man, exhausted and drunk stays quiet in his corner of the room, exhausted from his little tirade.

And thus, you leave running out of the office and back towards the elevator to head to the safety of your own floor in order to get all your things to leave. For once, the building felt like an entrapment to you and you need to head home, because you knew that you wouldn't be able to think clearly in this place -- such an irony.

However, fate is cruel as the elevator opens and you see the projection of all your worry and questioning made flesh -- Carter Baizen with a frustrated expression on his face, hair disheveled with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, jacket suit clearly missing. Blue eyes meet yours, as his expression falls at the sight of you.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, softly putting a hand on your shoulder that burns for a moment and you briefly wonder when you became such an open book to the man. You shake your head as he frowns.

“Mr. Hayes is in your office,” you explain as his expression hardens at the name, so unlike before, “He seems drunk and in need of a talking to.”

“I--Did he tell you anything?” he questions. His tone even though a bit darker than before, as you shake your head because he seems to be asking about something else --something more dangerous-- than whatever is currently is rattling in your head.

“All right,” is he all he says before giving you a tired smile, though with soft blue eyes, “You should head home. There’s is somethings I have to deal with tonight. So, no meeting.”

“Understood,” you answer back with a frostiness that catches him off guard, “Goodnight, Mr. Baizen.”

You head towards the elevator as he gives you one last smile before the elevator doors close. You can see him mouth ‘stay safe, call me’ as your heart stutters for a moment, before you go back to looking at the ground. If he senses anything strange from you he doesn’t say anything, though in Carter’s defense he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. If he did notice something off, it would already be too late.

You finally do head home. Monsieur at the ends of your feet, meowing for attention as you dial a phone number, though not the one that belongs to Carter Baizen. This one has been on your phone for far too long and for the first time in a long time -- you need to her help, you need to hear her voice reprimand your stupidity.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello,” a voice answers groggy from sleepy, but so much better than the last time you had seen her-- crying and broken at the garden party. But, love made people do crazy things, huh?

“Roci, Roci,” you mumble in desperation and something she has never heard in your voice before, as you lay down in bed -- exhausted and confused, “I think I fucked up.”

I think I fell in love.

Part 9

#baezens4k #carter baizen #carter baizen x reader #carter x reader #carter baizen fanfic #carter baizen fanfiction #carter baizen au #gossip girl #gossip girl fanfic #gossip girl fanfiction #series: of saints #fabiola trying to write