• Take Your Sun •

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

There were times when Madelyn hated her mother-in-law. The woman had become her best friend, mother-figure, inspiration, and all around angel in more than one way, but she drove Madelyn crazy on most occasions. Tonight was one of those events where Mrs. Calle had forced the younger office ladies to extend an invite to the anti-social and usually silent editor who spent more hours than not locked up in her office. Madelyn wasn’t fond of the giddy girls and their romantic notions; she liked her simple, quiet space where their rose petals and glittery eyeshadow couldn’t touch her. But, Mrs. Calle never minded that and had been trying for years now to force her daughter-in-law into making friends.
It was how Madelyn found herself standing in O’Malley’s wearing a new dress and a pair of uncomfortable heels on a Friday night. Usually, she could be found curled up in her apartment, surrounded by dogs and finishing off a bottle of wine while she binge watched some TV show or other. When she wasn’t working at the weddings she planned, it was her favorite way to spend a weekend. She liked her space from New York’s bustling population, and she liked to enjoy the solitude that she’d seemingly condemned herself to for the rest of her life. She had a few acquaintances and people around that she tolerated more than most, and she, of course, had her in-laws, but she didn’t branch out much farther than that. In her eyes, there was no need for the meaningless platitudes that she’d seen first-hand growing up; she didn’t want fake people anymore. There was no time for them, especially not with her packed schedule.
But she didn’t have much of a choice that night as she sipped at a drink and pretended to be interested in whatever Trina – or was it Gina? – from floral was babbling on about. She didn’t bother to learn people’s names; her assistant took care of that and connected with most of the people clients needed. It was what the girl did best, after all, and organizing her calendar should’ve been a sole person’s job on its own. Sadly, Madelyn didn’t have any escape routes that night. Mrs. Calle would find out Monday morning if she bailed and she really didn’t want to face that lecture once again, so her only option was to sit on the outskirts of the little party at the bar, trying her best to pretend she belonged with the frilly girls attempting to flirt with the bartender.
She really missed the military sometimes.
This wouldn’t happen on base; she wouldn’t be forced into acting like the shell of the society girl she’d been raised to become. Those mannerisms had been ground into her head for 18 years and then beaten out during the brutal weeks of boot camp, and she had had a hard time reviving them as she entered civilian life once again. It was the price of serving, and she’d come to know that cost very well.
Madelyn distractedly played with the olive in her drink, watching it spin around the martini glass while she tried her best to keep up with the conversation playing out before her. The redhead that was Mrs. Calle’s latest assistant, and personal spy apparently, was ordering another round of shots but Madelyn was far from ready to be passed out drunk. Quickly determining a brief escape route, she mumbled an excuse and downed the remnants of her drink before slipping away towards the ladies’ room.
She turned around from the bar and unceremoniously slammed into the body she hadn’t realized was behind her. Madelyn instantly froze at the unexpected, full-on contact with the man and blinked up in surprise at the face belonging to the chest in her face. Somewhere, deep in the back of her head, an apology hung in her thoughts but nothing came out as she stared at the guy who now had a bright lipstick mark etched onto his shirt.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 668!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

The hard work of the Sophisticakes staff did not go unnoticed by Felix, ever. He knew he sometimes asked a lot of them, and other times they worked late or came in early without him needing to ask twice, just because they knew how demanding wedding orders could be. Some weeks they didn’t just have one wedding to worry about. They might have a large cupcake order for a party, or another small celebration cake requested. His staff were great at keeping up with the bakery products, but the custom orders were different day to day, and took different times to make, that an easy Monday might mean a stressful Wednesday. Felix never lied when he employed someone new. He told them the truth about the workload, and the stress that could come from the bakery kitchen and attached workshop. It was all smiles and happy faces out in the shop front, but the back could be a mess of flour and staff who were close to having a breakdown and questioning if the employee discount and free “damaged goods” was worth it.

This was why Felix did his best to show those who worked for him that he really did care about them, and he appreciated all that they did. There were pizza nights at the bakery, and he treated those who were of legal age to a night in O’Malley’s every now and then. He understood the need to blow off steam. Hell, he needed to do it himself! Felix was balancing running the bakery that was once his mother’s with his own college education. It wasn’t easy; in fact, Felix often wondered if he was crazy to do it. There were nights he went without sleep, others when he simply went from the library to the shop and slept in a booth because he knew he’d be prepping for the morning rush a few hours later. Felix was a very tired man most of the time, and he needed to let go of his responsibilities every once in a while for the sake of his own sanity.

He stayed close to the bar, ordering another round of drinks for his merry bunch of bakers and assistants. They were all nearby, gossiping and teasing each other without the usual worry of customers coming by and interrupting their moment of socialising. For once they were on the fun side of the counter! Felix called them forward as their drinks came, and they quickly moved back to their original places, picking up their chatter right where they left off. O’Malley’s was always busy, and so when Felix paid for the drinks and then picked up his own, he wasn’t all that surprised to be bumped into a few moments later. In a crowded bar it was expected to be jostled and knocked, especially when people had been drinking some. He glanced to make sure no one was hurt and to be certain that no trouble was brewing, when he saw that he was being stared at. His gaze moved downwards and he saw the lipstick stain. “Not my shade.” He joked, flicking his eyes back up.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 528!
OUTFIT! Baker Boy!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

Madelyn’s weeks were never normal; then again, her clients were never exactly normal, either. She often found herself being forced into finding extra creative solutions to provide the dream wedding for a bride who was so far passed Bridezilla she was reaching dangerous territory. And then there were the venue issues, florists running out of certain colors, caterers raising fees, and cakes getting dropped out the back of vans; her life was always a circus that she tried her best to keep control of. It usually ended with her writing off humanity for the dozenth time that week and locking her office door to rush home to her dogs, the only beings who didn’t constantly anger her. She wouldn’t trade it for another profession though, no matter how much she hated the sappy fairy tales and flowers of it all. Originally, she’d accepted the job because it had been her only option. She wasn’t fit to stay on base and, no matter how much she tried, the fight wasn’t in her bones anymore. Coming to work for Mrs. Calle had been what saved her, even if being surrounded by couples on the brink of the happiness she’d once been promised was like driving a dagger through her own heart every time she closed the book on another completed wedding.
Closing the world out had once been her defense against the black crater that had been torn through her heart, but that had been years ago and she’d finally consented to wearing her wedding ring on her right hand now instead of her left; she was slowly stitching up the wound that she still felt down to her very soul some days. She knew she had to push herself more if she wanted to heal. Madelyn had to keep moving forward, even if that meant just climbing up the ranks at work. Staying still for too long allowed her to get bored, and she couldn’t have that; being bored was far more frightening than being alone.
Though she was slowly welcoming the world back into her life, Madelyn still kept a healthy distance between herself and most guys. She usually stayed in the shadows, particularly at weddings when someone’s cousin got intoxicated and attempted to hit on the pretty wedding planner whose fingers clutched onto her clipboard for everything she was worth. It had been a long time since she’d been romanced and, with her job, her belief in true love had dwindled long ago. Lawrence had been her once in a lifetime love; anyone else would be a bed warmer. Despite her pessimism, she was ready for something new in her life; she needed excitement to help break up the monotony of brides and wilted flowers that had turned into her weeks. But she’d need a healthy dose of alcohol in her own system for that to ever happen and it wasn’t like she was presented with many opportunities to meet men outside of work. Mrs. Calle had been trying for months to hand-pick suitors and had employed Madelyn’s assistant in the game, but she didn’t believe in the fuss of it all. If Madelyn had learned anything in her upside-down life, it was that nothing could be forced, especially when it came to love, so her hope of a social life had quickly gone down the drain.
Nights out with her co-workers reminded her why she was perfectly happy without many friends. The silly twits believed whole-heartedly in romance, however, and Madelyn couldn’t take much more of their ridiculous drivel if she wanted to keep her sanity intact. She needed an escape plan; anything, really, to get her out of the presence of those girls. Madelyn’s brain was too focused on sneaking out the back of the bar to comprehend the man standing before her with her shade of pink lipstick pressed onto his shirt. His words snapped her back to attention, dark eyes blinking up at him as Madelyn pushed the light haze of alcohol to the back of her mind and tried to come up with a witty response. How did people flirt nowadays, anyway? "I think it suits you pretty well,” she smirked back, tucking her hair away from her face nervously. A small smile played on her lips as she looked away to click open her purse, producing a stain remover stick from the depths of the tiny clutch. "You can never be too prepared with my job,” she joked as she held up the little tube for him.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 756!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

Felix knew he could leave a lot of the day to day running of the bakery to the employees who had been there for a few years or more. They knew how to run the front of house well enough, and the staff who worked behind the scenes frosting cupcakes and prepping the simple cake designs plucked from a catalogue probably had the ability to do it in their sleep. They were skilled in customer service and art, and Felix rarely had to step in to help them out or chase them to make sure the shelves were dressed or the orders were going to be ready on time. It meant he could focus on the complicated orders, like the custom tiered wedding cakes for example, or he could put in the office time to complete order forms and pay the bills that didn’t automatically come out of the business account each month. Running the bakery was not easy, and his mother had made it look like a walk in the park, doing it all without so much as a hair falling out of place. Felix had no idea how she managed it because there were plenty of times when he was ready to pass out on the kitchen floor and use a flour bag for a pillow. Still, it was worth it to see people walk away happy. It didn’t matter to Felix if it was a standard rainbow cake for a five year old’s birthday party, or some complicated and intricate lace detailed five tiered wedding extravaganza that almost killed him to complete in time; they were worth it in the end. Although, his staff could tease him for how often he vowed never to do another design again, or offer the icing work his mother had taught him when he was younger and only he could replicate if he put in an all nighter. Felix still said yes when he saw eager eyes sitting across the consult table above his office.

He couldn’t help it. Felix had grown up hearing love stories from his mom. Whenever his dad had been away, and then after he had died, it was how she coped. She told Felix all about how they met, the songs that were special to them, how the dents and chips had come to be in the military home he grew up in, and why life was perfect for them even if they weren’t always together. Felix knew a good love story, and he couldn’t bring himself to be the guy who ruined it just because it would exhaust him to make someone’s dream cake exactly the way they wanted it. If he could do it, then he would. It might put his back into spasm, and he might end up with a headache and sleeping in his office, but it was all for a cause he wasn’t going to ruin. Everyone deserved to find their soulmate, and the person they would find true happiness with. His dad might have been killed when Felix was just eleven, but he knew that his mother had never been happier than the years they had spent together, and with the memories they had made. He just knew.

Still, Felix’s whole life was Sophisticakes, because it was his mother’s. Balancing its success alongside college and his culinary classes was tiring work. It left little time for Felix to go out and hang out with those he considered to be friends. He enjoyed it when he did though, because letting go and being able to remember he was just a guy in his twenties was nice; more than nice actually. Smiling, Felix shrugged off the lipstick mark easily enough. “I’d probably prefer something darker.” He joked, Before she could offer up the stain remover, Felix had already grabbed napkins from the bar top and started scrubbing at his top. “I’m used to being covered in stains and weird gloop.” He assured her, watching at the mark smeared and blended awkwardly into the cotton. Felix was far too used to food dye and flour being a staple part of his outfit by the end of most days, sugar and frosting somehow making it past his baking jacket when he remembered to wear it over the cheap t-shirts he had reserved just for the bakery and cake decorating. That way if they were ruined it wasn’t like he had wasted a lot of money on them.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 747!
OUTFIT! Baker Boy!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

There were many times in her life where Madelyn had wanted to quit, especially as she’d gotten deeper into the world of wedding planning and moving on to grow her life in New York. These moments were what strengthened her, each becoming its own plating in her armor that kept her from crumbling beneath the weight of what the world threw her way. They had taught her how to problem solve, though they were a pain in her ass from time to time, and they showed her how to think on her feet. If her reaction time hadn’t already been heightened from the military, her current job had given her even better reflexes that came in handy when trying to save a wedding in a two-minute period. Quitting wasn’t an option when a client was paying insane amounts of money to have an absolutely perfect wedding day, a lesson Madelyn had learned as an assistant and now drilled into anyone who worked on her team. The only choice was to react to the situation, handle it, and move on to the next inevitably rising crisis. On the outside, she tried to keep herself as calm and collected as possible, keeping a cool, relaxed smile fixed on her lips to prevent brides or mothers from having a full-on tantrum before going down the aisle. Madelyn had learned this also kept her team calm, be it her assistant or anyone else working behind the scenes to bring together a wedding, and her fake smile managed to give the allusion that everything was completely fine, even if it was completely the opposite.
In the end, there were only a handful of moments during a wedding that Madelyn truly loved seeing again and again. The decorations never mattered to her, nor did the sky-high cakes or poorly colored bridesmaids dresses; she was there for the few seconds when a groom first saw his bride, when the couple shared their first kiss, or when a father danced with his newly married daughter. Even if she didn’t wholeheartedly believe in the romantic side of life for now, she could always appreciate those unforgettable memories being made on a day that only came once in so many people’s lives. She enjoyed creating those moments for them and giving them a picture-perfect few seconds that could be cherished for years to come.
But, there were a lot of things that went wrong in order to lead up to those moments and she had learned to carry the essentials with her to every wedding. There was a black bag that came to each wedding and lived in a corner of her office when it wasn’t out on another mission. It was her version of an emergency kit, full of band-aids, makeup wipes, bobby pins, fashion tape, ibuprofen, and a million other tiny mishaps that now caused her to carry around a solution. That bag had saved more than one wedding, and she’d fallen into the habit of throwing a few of the essentials into her own clutch for situations like the one she now found herself in.
Madelyn didn’t engage with other people as often as she should’ve. She could run a wedding flawlessly and bark orders at the employees there or at the office, but she wasn’t the type to actively seek out social interactions anymore. As she stood before this guy in a bar she’d been half-dragged to, she was working to regain the steely composure she kept in place for everyone else. Running into him had shocked her, leaving her unguarded as she blinked up at him with her dark eyes. She watched in slight horror as he rubbed the stain further into his shirt, marring it completely. "Now you’ve wrecked it,” she said with a shake of her head, clicking her tongue as she shooed his hands away. "Let me. It’s my fault, after all.” Uncapping her stain stick, she brazenly and very carefully grabbed the collar of his shirt and started gently scrubbing at the lipstick mark. It began disappearing easily, even if it had been further pushed into the fabric, and Madelyn forced herself to keep her eyes on her work rather than looking up at this guy she was now far, far too close to.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 715!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

Once in his life Felix had thought that his future was in the military. He expected that he would be wearing those fatigues and going through training with the other recruits who wanted to serve their country, too. Hell, he had been pretty damn adamant about it all until the closest thing he had to a father figure talked him down from it. It was long before his mother had died, and Felix had been reminded of how he had nothing to prove to anyone; they were all so very proud of him already. Plus, should anything have happened to him, it would have brought indescribable pain to his mother, who had already lost the love of her life to the toils of war. Felix would do anything for her, and he wasn’t about to put her through another loss like that. He knew how much his father’s death had crushed her. That was why he had chosen to pursue a culinary career instead. He had more passion for cooking in the end, and the worst he could do was burn himself, or slip with a knife and need a few stitches from the emergency room. Thankfully, the latter hadn’t happened and the former hadn’t been severe enough to leave him scarred.

It had probably worked out for the best. Felix was probably better with a skillet than he was with a rifle anyway. He had yet to find a problem with making a living from what he enjoyed and what he was good at. Sure, he still dreamt of having a restaurant, but he would never turn his back on his mother’s dream. Sophisticakes was all he had left of her, and every corner of that bakery reminded him of her in different ways. Smudged paint where she had been determined to decorate it herself, little knocks in the old office desk because she had it for years…tiny little memories to keep her around long after she had been snatched away by The Reaper. They made life a little bit softer when Felix felt like he was being prodded and poked in all the wrong places by the heavy workload he had willingly taken on. People thought he was crazy for balancing a heavy responsibility with the stresses of college, and maybe they were right. There were certainly times when he felt like he could pull his hair out and just scream.

That, however, was what nights like these were for. He could blow off some steam and relax like most people in their twenties did. He woke up exhausted, but oddly refreshed. Felix could never put into words what he meant, but to him it was like resetting the ticker on his stress gauge. It went back to zero and allowed him to start tackling life all over again. He just hoped that one day he wouldn’t need it. “It’s fine! It’s only a shirt!” He shrugged, waving the whole matter off before she grabbed at it and began to wipe it away with some stick that seemingly came from thin air. Felix couldn’t be praised for noticing the goings on in the world around him. He spent too much time caught up in himself. He pulled an impressed face and smoothed down his shirt, feeling it twisted and moved from all of their movements. “The bakery should invest in one – or a dozen – of them.”

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 572!
OUTFIT! Baker Boy!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

From birth until she’d enlisted in the military, Madelyn had been bred to be a society girl. She could list etiquette rules off like they were old friends, and she knew how to act like a perfect, polished lady in front of a herd of people who were annoying her beyond belief. Her older sisters had always been better at that game than she was and, when she was younger, she had looked up to them as the model of what a good woman should be like. They possessed everything from natural grace to the practiced giggle used in proper flirting, and they looked like the pristine Barbie idiots that her parents had trained them to become. As she’d gotten older, she had realized that those people weren’t real; real people laughed however they wanted and didn’t have to eat with four different forks during dinner. They could slouch and wear comfortable clothing and not have to worry about what the society gossip would pick up on next. And Madelyn absolutely loved being one of them now instead of a Barbie doll.

She played the part of sophisticated Ice Queen well enough in her job now, and it made it all the easier that she’d been taught to walk in heels and fancy dresses from a young age, but she didn’t live close to anything like her family did. She had a small apartment crowded with dogs and cheap IKEA furniture, and she often found herself eating crappy take-out or frozen meals because cooking for one got to be so boring after weeks on end. There were no fancy silver spoons or expensive tea kettles and her bed sheets were most definitely the ones that had been on sale at Target rather than the silk ones she’d had as a child, but all of those things ensured her freedom from the chains that had been slapped onto her wrists at birth. She lived comfortably, on her own terms, and answered to nobody.

If she would have stayed home and finished her schooling as a society plaything, Madelyn knew with every certainty that she would have been miserable. That was not who she was, despite her careful and slightly preppy look that she adorned for her job. She had never liked the politics that came with being “high born” and she had hated the way her mother boasted of the title as if it was some huge honor to belong to a family that had been around for generations and done barely anything besides make money off the lesser people in the city. No, she was proudly a Calle now and had cut herself off from that old, cursed maiden name the moment she had the chance.

Madelyn liked living in New York because no one knew about her past; most people didn’t have a clue that she’d been in the military unless her mother-in-law let it slip or they visited her apartment and saw the mementos scattered about the place, including the folded flag and black-and-white wedding photo that sat in a place of honor on her mantle. They didn’t need to know the details of her life, and she had reveled in the idea of being able to just be Madelyn Calle the wedding planner instead of Miss Freeman, the girl who’d lost her mind and run off into the sunset with a Romeo who’d died and left her suffering. But that had been a long time ago, and she had not been that little girl for years now. She was strong and independent and she was not afraid of anything.

Except being too close to another man.

She released his shirt quickly, focusing all her attention on recapping her stain remover and placing it safely back into her little clutch. Madelyn was still far too close to him with her back pinned against a bar stool and him entirely blocking any path of escape she could have possibly hoped for. Her dark eyes looked up nervously and caught his shocked expression as he studied her work, a smile tugging on her slightly smudged lips as she watched him. He was handsome, she would give him that, and from their proximity she caught the heady scent of his cologne mixed with something sugary sweet that made her stomach twist into little knots. ”Get a grip; you’re far too drunk,” she scolded herself as she continued to look up into his eyes. "You work at a bakery?” she found herself asking, despite every part of her brain telling her to say goodnight to him and walk back to the gaggle of stupid office girls. If she had a choice, however, she’d much rather talk to the stranger than the silly ladies who had nothing better to do than flirt and complain.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 799!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

There was still every chance that Felix might one day open his own restaurant. He wasn’t going to let go of that dream. His mother had taught him no dream was too foolish or unobtainable. She had built her bakery up from nothing, and now there wasn’t a slow day at Sophisticakes. They were always busy, always taking orders months in advance for weddings, parties, and other big corporate events. Felix was determined to keep her legacy going for as long as there was air in his lungs. He was still ambitious enough that he hoped to have his restaurant with his own menu, handpicked staff, and happy customers. In a perfect world Felix would be lucky enough to find a space on the same street as the bakery. That way he could run both businesses with much more ease, but Felix knew that was him thinking extremely optimistically.

Despite everything life had thrown at him, Felix couldn’t help but to look on the positive side sometimes. That would be his mother’s influence. Right up until her death she had been the type to approach everything with such a positive outlook. She wasn’t the type to give in easily, even when she felt downtrodden in herself. Felix knew she struggled after the death of his father, but she did her best to never let Felix see that. He heard her crying in the night, but it was only after she thought he had gone to bed. The next day they would often bake until the kitchen was full of sweet, warm goodies, and everything smelt like sugar and flour. It made his mother feel better and Felix was happy to indulge and look after his mom through their shared grief. Ultimately it was that which led to the conception of Sophisticakes and that healed her more than people’s sympathy ever could.

Bakeries didn’t run by themselves though, and all the work Felix put into Sophisticakes meant he still felt strange to be having nights out like this one. It would be a long time before he was leaning against a bar again, drink in hand. Come morning he would probably remember again why he kept to so few of these night outs, even with his work crew. Grinning, Felix rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sophisticakes. I, uh, I’m the owner.” He was used to people being surprised that he was the owner of such a successful bakery when he was still so young. He didn’t enjoy going into the story of how he inherited the place after his mother died, so he did his best to avoid that tale. It wasn’t exactly a fun icebreaker when he met people. Especially when most of his icebreakers were in college classes, where most of his peers were only aspiring to master their cooking abilities. Felix had what many of them could only dream of. He had a feeling that was why many in his class were estranged from him. He had their dreams and he was only half the age most would accomplish it at.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 517!
OUTFIT! Baker Boy!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

Madelyn had never received any post-secondary schooling beyond the military. She could have, and she still had the option to pursue a degree with her GI Bill, but she really had no interest. She was good at her job and had learned the tricks of the trade under the careful instruction of her mother-in-law, so a degree would really only be another frame to hang on her wall. With both her parents having attended an Ivy League school and her siblings all following in their footsteps, the rebellious part of her soul was clinging to that last snub tighter than was probably good for her. It was one more thing that made her so much different than her family.

Madelyn liked spending nights in with her dogs. That was where she felt the most comfortable, curled up in an old Army shirt with four furry heaters snuggled against her. Those were truly her babies and she already felt guilty for hiring the dog walker for the evening as she paraded about New York slightly against her will. The girl never remembered to put coats on Madelyn’s precious Italian Greyhounds and, even in the comfortable summer nights, the poor dogs shivered from the cold. She looked insane walking alone with her little heard of dogs most days, but it gave her time to think and the pups behaved better than most with the extensive training they had all received since coming into her home. They were her pride and joy, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, even if her mother-in-law jokingly called her a “crazy old dog lady.”

She usually didn’t talk to strangers in bars; to be honest, she usually didn’t go to bars. It had never seemed fun to her, not when she would see the face of her dead husband slipping between the strangers weaving through the crowds. No, going out really wasn’t fun for her at all. And yet she still found herself straining to hear the words that fell from this strange baker-man’s lips. One of her dark eyebrows quirked at the title of “owner,” and she took a very cursory glance over him. He definitely didn’t seem old enough to be an owner of anything but, then again, she didn’t seem old enough to be a widow. "I’m Madelyn,” she heard herself saying, the words falling from her lips without her brain’s approval. "Let me buy you a drink for ruining your shirt. It’s the least I can do.” She took a step back, leaning against the bar and trying to put a bit of distance between them now that she’d already had her lips pressed against his chest. This was going to be interesting.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 454!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

Felix wasn’t out to try and impress anyone. If one day he did have a restaurant to go along with the bakery he inherited it would be hard work, not something to boast about. He didn’t like those celebrity chefs who put themselves up there with movie stars and socialites. He could never picture himself like that. He was just a hardworking kid carrying on his mom’s legacy and wishing that his father was proud of him. That was all Felix ever wanted from his life. He had wanted that when he was a small boy and while he was much taller and less interested in cartoons now, there was very little different about the worn out baker and culinary student now. If he didn’t end the day with an ache in his joints and his eyes heavy by the time he hit the pillow, then something was wrong. Hard work was Felix’s best friend and worst enemy at the same time.

Tonight was different, but he was still feeling the ache in the back of his neck. It was an almost permanent kink after hours at a desk doing written work and then even longer spent in the kitchen rolling out fondant and piping icing onto cakes. Felix rubbed at it casually, his fingers pressing hard over the bumps of his spine that felt as though they could just be popped into place. He could remember his mother laughing when she came home at night, rubbing sore shoulders and aching feet. She said it was all worth it for her dreams, and Felix had to agree. He never complained about his exhaustion or the stiffness that made his body howl when he stretched in the morning. It was brought on himself. If he wanted to, he could drop school and focus on the bakery; it would certainly lessen his load, but Felix going to college was his own dream. He knew giving up on it would have his mother’s spirit find a way back to haunt him. He could count on one hand the amount of times he had seen her angry and it was scary.

Felix was friendly enough that he could talk to anyone. It came with the territory of running Sophisticakes. He often had to deal with people from all walks of life who wanted to place orders for all matters of celebrations and occasions. It was easier to keep those meetings informal and chatty, otherwise Felix found himself cornered by Bridezilla’s and panicked parents trying to plan the perfect birthday party for their angelic child. “I’m Felix.” He said, flashing a warm smile. It was nice to meet someone without them placing an order for an oversized superhero cake, or a five tier extravaganza with lace icing piped on each tier. It took away that lurking ounce of fear and dread that came with every appointment in his planner. “Oh, it’s really not a big deal. I’ve ruined more just working.” He insisted, raising his hand to shake it in tandem with his head. It was just a shirt, not the end of the world.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 524!
OUTFIT! Baker Boy!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

Madelyn had grown up wanting for nothing. She had the best clothing, went to the best schools, and took the most expensive vacations with her family during holiday from school. It was a world where she had never felt like she truly belonged, roving the Boston socialite scene in dangerously designer heels and causing trouble for her father to buy her way out of. She had been bored out of her mind and rebelling against the silver spoon being forced down her throat was the only saving grace from the blinding glamor of being born into a well-off family. She had gone from silk dresses to bullet-proof vests in a matter of months, and it had been one of the best decisions of her entire life. Being in the army taught her to work hard; it taught her that she had more strength than she even knew existed and that her happiness did not depend on some credit limit or fancy clothes. She could fight and she was damn proud of that.

Upon first glance, it was hard to see unless you looked for the right signs. She had done a good job at hiding the traces of her past, letting her hair grow back out and wearing heels that hid the permanent scars from blisters on her feet. While she had proudly earned each and every scar on her body, she still kept them buried away beneath professional clothes and makeup now that she was a civilian again. But, she would never be able to put the slouch back into her shoulders now that she’d had posture drilled into her very soul, and Madelyn knew she’d never be able to casually walk down a street again without counting steps in her head. She would always be a soldier first, and there was no getting rid of that.

But, despite her years of service, Madelyn was still raised to be a lady and she could behave like one when the occasion called for it. However, she would never stoop to the level of gossiping giddy like the office girls she was constantly surrounded by. Facing a Bridezilla was more preferable to that lot any time. Madelyn smoothed her hair back over her shoulder, the dark locks a mane with their own mission that was often much different than her plans each morning. She could still smooth it into a military grade bun in two minutes flat, but it was a taste of freedom to let it fall around her like a chestnut waterfall.

She just caught his name over the din of the pub, a small smile coming to her lips in response. It had been a long time since she had really smiled; the big, joyous kind that only came with being around the people who made your heart sing. But, it was still a cool smile and that was more than many people got out of her. "Fine then,” she replied at his excuses about his shirt, "You can buy me one for ruining my lipstick. This stuff’s expensive, you know.” There was a playful smirk on her lips as she moved aside from the bar, clearing the way for him to make his next move.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 540!
OUTFIT: LITTLE BLACK DRESS!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

Felix was a soldier’s son. He had been brought up on the army bases, around the camo and the khaki that actually meant something. He didn’t like the fashion idea of it that had come to rise in the last decade or so. In his mind it stood for something greater than looking good, or fitting into a stereotype. His father had worn it, the men who had grown up looking up to had worn it. They had been his heroes when he was just a little boy. He was going to follow in their footsteps until they suggested he could do so much more with his life. It wasn’t said in a bad way. They were proud of how they had served their country, but they knew Felix had potential elsewhere and to waste it just because he was afraid his father wouldn’t be proud of him had seemed like a damn shame. Everyone else seemed to know that his dad had been proud of him from that first cry, the first breath that he had taken on this planet. None of that was going to change if he opted to spend his time in the kitchen. People couldn’t survive if they couldn’t eat after all. He supposed they were right, so instead he stood tall on memorial day, visited the military grave of his father’s, and kept the memory of it all alive. He could be a proud son, even if his path was ultimately very different than training in a boot camp and having his own dog tags around his neck. Instead he had his fathers, which he actually kept in a trinket box, along with the wedding bands that his parents had saved up for together.

He was more sentimental than he might let on. Felix didn’t cry when they got a wedding order, or listened to the stories of clients who came to Sophisticakes, but some other things made him go a little gooey inside. Holding onto special items was one of those things. He liked to think that they held onto memories in the same way that people did. He was pretty quiet about that line of thinking, mostly because it didn’t come up in an everyday kind of conversation, and aside from that he was always too busy balancing his life to sit down and have deep philosophical conversations with those around him. If he stated doing that then there definitely wouldn’t be any time for sleep; something he already struggled to get.

Felix already knew he would suffer for tonight. He’d been playing catch up on both school, business, and personal needs for the next couple of days until he felt like all three of those worlds would just implode on him. Oddly, he was used to it, and the stress didn’t really bother him so much anymore. It might have been different if he was older, less healthier, but he still had youth on his side, and he was handling everything on his plate without too many problems. He shrugged in mock resignation of the situation. “I see there’s no escape for me. What are you having?” He reached for his wallet and looked back at her for an answer. He wasn’t typically in the habit of buying drinks for strangers at bars, but this seemed harmless enough. Felix didn’t seen an entourage of friends giggling nearby so he felt a little more comfortable with the situation than he might do if there had been more eyes upon him.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 590!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!

[Madelyn Belle Calle]

As Madelyn had gotten more settled on base during her time in the service, part of her had longed to have grown up in the riveting atmosphere of an army base. She knew it was a rough life; she’d heard enough stories from fellow servicemen and women, and seen their families up close during holidays or summer barbeques, but it had still seemed like a much better world than the empty luxury she’d seen. She had been grateful to be born into such privilege; not many people even had a chance to belong to that world, no matter how hard they worked. It had all been so hollow though, from the faked family meals to the paper-thin relationships that crumbled under harsh gossip. On base, she had been a part of a true family for the first time in her entire life. Never before had she experienced so much genuine support and love, whether it was with other service women banding together as the minority group in such a male-dominated field or spending time with coworkers and being welcomed into their homes like they were related by blood, Madelyn had never felt alone there. And, if she had had that as a child, how different would she have been? Would she have been so afraid of feeling, or would she have embraced it with open arms?

Being surrounded by people obsessed with material things, Madelyn hadn’t picked up a fondness for hoarding. She only kept the things that meant something to her; the things that went beyond designer handbags and ridiculously expensive décor. While she still had a love for simple, well-made clothing and enjoyed dressing tastefully, she didn’t have a closet the size of Manhattan and didn’t spend her time holding on to items that only cluttered her life. She simply kept what mattered to her; a painted wine glass from her 21st birthday celebration, her dead husband’s dog tags wound with a set of her own, a framed photo of her squadron during active duty. They were small mementos, but they stood out in the otherwise minimal space of her apartment and hinted at the person who hid behind the editorials she devoted her life to.

Maybe it was because she’d recently been granted an assistant, but Madelyn felt much less stressed than she had in previous weeks. Her schedule was still packed and she still spent more hours than not in her office, but the pressure of keeping every piece of her life in order had been shifted to someone else’s shoulders to leave her with a bit of freedom for the first time in a while. That was why she stayed at the bar, looking up at this stranger who owned a bakery and now had her lipstick on his chest like a sign most other women would find incriminating. "Gin martini,” she replied to his question. "Straight up with a twist.” She wasn’t a fan of those fruity cocktails the office girls always ordered; even in high school when she’d been sneaking booze at society parties, Madelyn had always been a fan of a well-made martini. It was a classic, one of those things that never changed even if her entire life did.

• • •

TAG: felix slater archer
WORDS: 540!
LOCATION: Looking for an Escape, O’Malley’s Pub
LYRICS: Blue Ain’t Your Color by Keith Urban
NOTES: <3 <3 <3

[felix slater archer]

Felix didn’t want a great deal out of life. He wanted to keep his mother’s dreams alive with the bakery, and maybe have a dabble in owning a restaurant or café, but he didn’t expect much more than that. He wasn’t vying to be the next celebrity chef, so Gordon Ramsay would be safe for a pretty while. Felix just liked the family feel he had with his staff at the bakery. It had been something his mother started and since a few had stayed on even after her death, it was easy to keep that vibe around. They took new starters under their wings, especially when Felix was swamped with classes and with orders that needed his skillset. One day he’d train someone else to know his mother’s signature tricks and styles, but that would take time and time was something Felix didn’t have much of right now. When he did have a free moment he was ensuring that his chores were done, errands were ran, and that he actually had food in his kitchen cupboards. Despite the hectic life he currently lived, Felix wouldn’t change it for the world. He had somehow fallen into a comfortable pattern, even with his unhealthy habit of sleeping at the bakery every now and then when late nights and early mornings coincided.

One day it would change, his life would be a little more settled, but Felix didn’t think he’d slow down all that much. He liked to pop into the bakery even when they weren’t expecting him. It wasn’t that he liked to snoop on his staff (he was a pretty relaxed boss) but he worried that the morning and lunch rush would get out of hand, especially if someone dropped in for a consultation. His staff liked to make sure that people were happy, so if they had the time they were happy to do a consult for a speciality cake. It was something Felix would prefer to keep booked in with the diary he had provided them with, but it wasn’t always easy to do; too many people thought they could walk in and demand the attention of his employees. If they ever turned someone away they knew Felix would have their back, but it would be easier to do if they all kept to the appointments they “officially” booked.

Felix didn’t have to wait long for a bartender to come his way. He ordered Madelyn’s gin martini and a whiskey and coke for himself. He wasn’t the biggest drinker, and he couldn’t stand the stale taste of beer after a night out. Whiskey was much smoother, and left less of an aftertaste, which was always helpful for the odd night when he passed out before finding his toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet. Again, a rare occurrence, but it happened nonetheless from time to time. He swapped cash for the glasses and then turned back around to his new companion. “Here you go, madam.” Felix handed her the gin martini and then sipped from his own glass, telling himself that he’d only have one or two more after this and call it a night.

• • •

TAGGED! Madelyn Belle Calle
WORDS! 527!
LYRICS! Shame - - - Ciaran Lavery
NOTES!