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@ramsaycarter
I know you probably wont believe me anyways but I only use it to get in, I’m never usually carded until I actually order something with alcohol.
Yeah, actually, that tends to be the case. We can’t really stop everyone in the bar for ID; it’s just more practical to ask for it when they order. I mean, if you look like you’re in the middle of puberty, then yeah, we’ll call security, but otherwise it’s up in the air till you try to get your hands on the booze.
Oh, it’s just fries from the diner; they’re my new found guilty pleasure. But help yourself. I so do not need another thing to capture my attention, but I just saw the first episode of Teen Wolf and I think I may cry. Do you know how long this thing’s been on?
New found? Fries are practically an entire food group. Nah, I was just kidding, I’ll probably grab a pizza for dinner and eat the whole thing myself in front of the TV anyway.
Uh... Teen Wolf isn’t really my cup of joe, y’know? I’m probably the worst person to ask about it.<
letting off steam; teddy&ramsay
Ramsay wasn’t wrong. The majority of the regulars that also attended the bar were very familiar with him and knew that he was quite a hard faced cop. It was refreshing to know that he had that power to stop crime being committed just through his presence. He smiled at her in an effort to show that he was trying to be a little more positive about things. “Hey now, I am pleased I’m here - I get my usual chinwag with my favourite waitress.” He chuckled. “I sound like that drunken stereotype that lurches over the waitress after a long day of work with the waitress only humouring him so she can get more custom from him in the first place - except for the fact that I’m not drunk or straight.” He shook his head with a smirk. “So perhaps I sound nothing like that after all.” At this point, Teddy knew he was just rambling on as he usually did, but Ramsay was a good listener and it was nice to just talk about something that wasn’t work, criminals or crime in general.
He watched his drink get planted in front of him and immediately took a gulp. “Definitely going to need something significantly stronger next.” He smiled. “So Ramsay, tell me about your day because you look a little worse for wear yourself.” Cursing himself after what he had just said, realizing it could be taken the wrong way. “I uh– I mean, you know, you look tired. “ He cupped his face with his hand as if to shut himself up.
‘Oh, that stereotype comes in a lot, actually,’ Ramsay told him, laughing as she pulled two bottles of Budweiser for a nearby customer, popping the caps and putting the order through the register. ‘There’s more of them around than you think.’ She handed over the change, then leaned her elbows on the counter in front of Teddy, her lips twisting into a wry smile. Ramsay found him as something of a godsend; he was good-looking, self-deprecating and refreshingly straightforward and genuine, but she'd yet to see him with anyone. ‘I get you’re not hitting on the waitresses, but are there any waiters you’d be happy to get uh... Served by?’
Biting her lip to hold in another laugh, Ramsay let her head drop a little, nodding. ‘I’m pretty sure I do, we’ve been flat-out since this afternoon. But still,’ she conceded, ‘Only six pick-up attempts today. It’s practically a record.’ She sighed, straightening and combing her fingers through her hair, one hand still on the counter. ‘Stronger, huh? What are we talking — whiskey or bourbon? You never struck me as a tequila sort of guy.'
letting off steam; teddy&ramsay
It was the usual kind of night that New York City boasted at the start of June. Bustles of people paraded the streets with a smile on their face at the prospect of the upcoming hot weather that Summer usually brought with it and with these bustles of people came a wider range of crimes being committed and so Teddy’s job once again took centre stage in his life.
After a long day - and it really was long - Teddy was used to retiring to his favourite bar at this point. He wasn’t sure if it was the company of the waitress, Ramsay, or the pub itself that he enjoyed - though it didn’t matter at this point as he just wanted to have a drink and unwind. His day had consisted of twists and turns and it was nice to have the oppurtunity to just sit back and spew whatever was on his mind to Ramsay without there being any surprise round the next corner or deadline that he must meet. It was just a time to unwind and take his mind off of work.
Upon his arrival, he took his usual spot at the bar and awaited Ramsay to notice him. This was the usual set up at this point, she never really knew when he was going to show up as it was always random, but there was always that chance and it was beginning to get more and more regular at this point.
Upon spotting her, he offered her a wave and a faint smile. “Usual G&T.” He mumbled, looking down at the bar.
‘We’re outta ice,’ Ramsay called across the bar as she tucked the large metal bucket beneath her arm, ignoring the way the cold soaked through her shirt. ‘Be right back!’ The after-work rush had been busier than normal, and Ramsay only mildly begrudged having to overhear summer vacation plans from every corner of the bar.
Nudging the ice machine door open with her sneaker, she didn’t flinch when her hand wrapped around the freezing cold metal scoop. The more people that left the city during the summer, the better. Less customers, less snotty orders of white wine spritzers, and less terrible pick-up lines. Ramsay considered flying back to the east coast for a break — nobody could do summer like Los Angeles. Nobody irritated her more than her sister, either, but since when had she ever let that stop her from doing anything she wanted?
Hauling the full bucket back to the front with both arms, Ramsay poured the ice into the freezer before eyeing a familiar face further along the bar. ‘You were here yesterday, the day before that, and, you know, a lot of the days before that,’ she said lightly around a smile, tucking the bucket beneath the counter and reaching for a clean glass. ‘Of course, I should probably be thankful considering the kind of trouble you keep away by just sitting there, but at least try to look like you’re pleased to be here.’
I’m pretty sure that the only thing worse than being dragged out by friends is being dragged out only to be kicked out from a bar because the bartender realized your ID is a fake.
Hey, I don’t make the rules, dude, I'm just paid to play by ‘em. Enjoy soda while you can; once you start tipping vodka into everything, it’s just not the same.
This show is so good. Oh my gosh. Why am I just now hearing about this? Why am I just now being told about it? Wait, no, no, no, no, it can’t end like that! What?
You need to pass me whatever you’re eating and scoot over on that couch because I need new good shows to watch.
“I came out to have a good time, but I honestly feel so attacked right now.“
‘It’s what you get for ordering a fruity drink in front of a bunch of collegiate football douchebags.’
When I’m sober, yes.
Damn. Too bad I’m not even a half-rate model. I’d totally do that. Getting paid to get drunk? Hell yes. How shitty can it be if they’re getting paid to go to parties? But actually, swanky parties aren’t really my style. That doesn’t surprise me.
Life’s too short to not eat good food. And all the fancy parties I’ve ever been to sucked serious ass, so I don’t think us common folk are missing out on anything. Not even champagne and microscopic canapes can make me pass up a burrito off the food truck down the road.
...—Goddamn it, I want a burrito.
PARA: ramsay x silas 001
CHARACTERS: ramsay carter & silas ward
LOCATION: the bar ramsay works at
TRIGGERS: there may be triggers hence the read more
SUMMARY: honestly we don’t even know what’s happening.
Keep reading
Silas turned slightly when she rounded the counter to stand in front him, turning so he was head on with her. For a split second he took his eyes off her and looked down at his lip before looking back at her trying to resist the urge to smile. Had to keep the whole ‘overly confident’ thing going. Instead of smiling he smirked at her, “Of course not. My and any excitement will be to a minimum until I prove to you that my music is good, which it is, so if anything we're just wasting time waiting for this special surprise you got planned.”
It wasn’t uncommon for Silas to be as persistent as he was, no matter what it was if he wanted something he would keep pushing for it. In ways it wasn’t his best trait but being told he couldn’t have anything when he was younger forced him to show everyone and most of all himself that he could get anything. He could get a music deal, book gigs, he could get the prettiest girl in the room to want something to do with him. To Silas anything he put to his mind to, he could work for and right now he wanted Ramsay. They both knew it, he wasn’t one for hiding what he thought when it came to things like that.
She swallowed a chuckle, staring at his mouth, at the way his lips curved. Ramsay failed to mention the prize would include shutting up that smirky confidence — maybe a raincheck on the music and a fast-forward on what came after was in order. Propping herself up to sit atop the counter, Ramsay leaned her hands on the edge. ‘So say I give you that prize now — what are we going to do if I completely hate your music?’ Hooking a finger into the collar of Silas’ shirt, she pulled him forward between her legs and, when he was close enough, Ramsay took his lip ring between her teeth and gently tugged.
When Ramsay found herself attracted to somebody, there was almost nothing more desirable than the simple assertiveness of going after what they wanted. She met his eyes and returned the smirk, raising a brow. By way of universal irony, Silas — who less than an hour ago was a total stranger — made no pretence of what he was after, and she liked it. Ramsay knew little else about him other than what he did for a living, but for the moment, it didn’t really matter.
Okay, you got me listening.
You have to be proven instead of just hear words, alright I get that probably because I’m the same way. So you have a deal, I’ll prove to you that my band is actually good. I think that’s the best thing you’ve said all day.
‘Don’t get too excited,’ Ramsay warned with a laugh, pushing herself off of the counter and rounding the bar to stand in front of him. She lifted a hand, lightly toying with the silver at his lip as she leaned closer. ‘That’s if, and only if, I like your music.’ Ramsay hadn’t quite thought of what she’d do if she didn’t like it, but she could figure that out later. ‘I’d like to think I give pretty good prizes, though, so it would suck for both of us if your band was shitty.’
He was unnervingly, almost effortlessly confident, like he genuinely believed every word and couldn’t think otherwise, and yet there was no self-inflated sense of entitlement that tended to have Ramsay gunning for the nearest exit. It had, at the very least, kept her interested. What else it did was something she'd never admit to.
So a group of drunk guys came into the tattoo shop I work at and wanted to all get matching tattoos of a penis and when I told them I couldn’t tattoo them while they’re drunk, they started yelling about how I am ‘taking away their rights’ and two puked on the floor. It took all my will power not to kill them.
That is a lot of willpower that I definitely do not have. You at least sent the cleaning bill to them, right?
Think you could manage tricking her into thinking NASA’s looking for recruits to start a colony on Mars? And to get her to volunteer to go? That’s good because it sounds like a whole lot of wasted energy hating someone so badly. Fuck, you’re speaking to me on a whole other level now. Cheesy fries and fried chicken. Yep, that’s what I’m getting on my way home.
It usually comes with a couple sneers or some shit when I say I work at Abercrombie. Does partying every day count?
Balanced nutrition is just your middle name, isn’t it?
I’m pretty sure that’s actually something people get paid to do. Like half-rate models and stuff; they get paid to go to swanky as hell parties to make the crowd look good, but then apparently they sometimes get treated like shit. I dunno, you hear a lot of stuff from behind the bar.
I’d refer to it as the latter for sure. My most recent case took me a good three weeks to solve, a missing person. You may have seen it in the news, a local girl from Greenwich Village who had gone missing in the middle of May this year. I can’t go into details, but it was just horrific to say the least. Of course, if I could tell you my stories, I’m sure we’d be hear all night. [ he looks to the ground, haunted by his past ]
...Oh god, this is not the fun kind of horrible either, is it? Okay, okay, you don’t have to say any more, I live in the Village, don’t freak me out.
A prize, huh? What would it be, can I get a hunt?
If you meant that kind of attitude then I’m only half that. Need a little of it to actually get out there on a stage and put on a show but if it counts for anything to me it’s more about the music and the people it could potentially be helping than me. How did I do? Okay, you can stand me, same differences.
Let’s see... It’d probably involve me, and that lip ring of yours.
Hmm, still on the fence, I guess. I hear a lot of bullshit like ‘music is my art’, so I think I’ll just have to see you live to decide what I think, ‘cause I don’t have to like you to make out with you.
I just realized how depressing it is to be one hundred percent sure the guy would cheat, because that generalizes every dude out there, but it is what it is and it happens often since guys are fucking assholes. Let’s say you marry one day, will you want that happening to you or will you be the mistress?
Where does it need to be for you to talk to her then, give me a number. Caleb, pleased to meet you. Wrote Silently and I’m working on the last book for The Empyreal series. It’s mainly young adult fiction, you don’t look like you would’ve read it.
I’m not generalizing. I’m talking about my dad.
And if I consider how much happier my mom was as a person even though she was the other woman in their stupid little triumvirate, and how much more bitter my dad’s wife became and how her life revolved around trying to either keep him or crush him, I know which one I’d want to be. It’s one thing to know someone is married and pursue something regardless, but I came along, and then none of the options were in a morally black and white area... —Oh, jeez, sorry. TMI. Uh, I’d say like an eight out of ten, and we’re maybe a two right now? Ramsay, pleasure’s not entirely mine but partly sounds fair. Oh, whoa, I’ve actually seen those books, and impressively not on the bargain table. Fourteen year old me probably would have read them.
Sounds like you two do need to be on opposite coasts. You need to be a whole fucking country away from her. That’s intense. She sounds bitter and bitter doesn’t look pretty on anyone.
I welcome every person that walks into Abercrombie & Fitch and come out reeking like their perfume at the end of the day. Not much of a living, but it’s paying the bills.
I think she’d enjoy being on opposite planets, but I don’t actually care. She could flip me off and I would literally have no emotional response, I just do not even care. Plus, that’s effort I could be using to, I don’t know, eat a bucket of fried chicken or something, and that’s way more useful.
Hey, I’m not exactly climbing the career ladder here, I’m not judging. You got something you want to do for a living, though?
