#short story with moral lesson

[pocketstory]

एक अधूरी प्यास – दिल छू लेने वाली हिंदी कहानी | Hindi Story | Emotional ...

[gildedbearediting]

A Look At: The Meaning of Marriage

The Meaning of Marriage was written in first person. The narrator is the granddaughter who’s looking at her own mother’s life. Then there’s Mrs Perren and her sister, the grandfather, the ‘motherless’ mother, the children, and the tom cat. The theme for the story is trauma, and family. It depicts generational trauma with a faded father, absent grandfather, and a harsh step-mother. The grandfather…

[wizedaily]

Emily’s tulips 🌷 Don’t judge a book by its cover

[letinspireyou]

Moral story - A woman and her diamonds

“The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts.” ― Marcus Aurelius

Anne was a lonely woman who, for the past 50 years, had spent her life collecting things she deemed valuable. She surrounded herself with the finest trinkets and furs, diamonds, and gold. She had expensive furs draped across couches and diamond encrusted jewelry boxes. Everyone around her knew not to come near them—Anne made sure of that by being mean and nasty to anyone she perceived as a…

[readersmagnet]

A Collection of Children's Short Stories by Ruthanne Nopson

Enjoy 11 charming short stories in “A Collection of Children’s Short Stories” by Ruthanne Nopson. Perfect for kids aged three to young teens, each story teaches valuable morals in an engaging way. Meet Mila the Little Turtle, experience the magic of Snowflake, the white kitten, and join Buster Bunny on his Thanksgiving berry-picking adventure.

Transport your children to a world of wonder and imagination. Grab a copy at www.ruthannebooksforchildren.com.

[mxtxfanatic]

Tbh, I think if you read an mxtx novel with the expectation that the story’s hero is meant to learn some valuable lesson that fundamentally changes their character and views on life, then you are reading her books wrong. There’s not a single mxtx protag (currently) in existence who changes by the end of the story. It’s the world they live in that is changed because of their actions:

—Shen Yuan’s Shen Qingqiu transforms a toxic masculinity fantasy into a queer romance in which the unhappy stallion protagonist with a harem in the 100s is given his monogamous happy ending with a husband he actually loves and values with reciprocity. They fuck off to their forever honeymoon after exposing the corruptness of the cultivation world that ruined Luo Binghe’s life to begin with, and all of this was only possibly because Shen Yuan was just a genuinely nice fucking person. The world lives to see another day and a fuckton of people who died (or didn’t even get to exist) in the original stallion novel get to live long, more fulfilled lives in Shen Yuan’s revision.

—Wei Wuxian is killed for sticking up for a condemned clan, is resurrected against his will, and still stands by his actions in his first life while protecting those that continued to wrongfully condemn him. As a reward, the corpses of the people he died protecting save him and his loved ones (and the rest of the bystanders who killed them), he bags himself the most perfect and perfectly matched man in the cultivation world, and he continues to help others and do what he wants to the ire of the cultivation world who are now too embarrassed to fight him. The younger generation look to him as a beloved teacher, protector, and role model to aspire towards.

—Xie Lian rebelled against hierarchy as a beloved prince of a prospering kingdom, then as a beloved god against the older gods, then as a reviled scraps god against the then most popular gods of the present day. He was always willing to lend a hand to anyone who needed it and to never hold resentment even if that kindness blew up in his face (and it often did). He gets to marry the man (ghost) who has seen him at his best and absolute worst and chooses him unconditionally, something no one else has ever done before. At the end of the novel, he is the god that all the other gods look to for guidance and strength.

None of these stories humble these characters for being good people. Even when their morally righteous actions net them unimaginably terrible results, even when they falter in the face of their failures, they ultimately remain true to their goodness. And none of the books humble them for that, because being good is not a character flaw. So in short: please stop talking about how mxtx protags “needed” to learn valuable lessons to “be good people” when they were already good people from the very beginning. These stories are not about how the world changes people but how genuinely good people can change the world just by actively being kind even with no benefit to themselves and especially if that kindness leads to detriment.

[writers-potion]

What sort of questions should I give my thesis readers to think about while they look over my collection of short stories?

Analytical Questions: Short Stories

From your question, I suppose that you are majoring in creative writing in university/grad school (or a related major). I have no first-hand experience studying creative writing in uni, so this post will be a list of questions I would ask myself if I were to read a collection of short stories 

Why are these stories presented as a single collection? Is there a running theme/ omniverse/ thematic linkages between the stories?

Is there character development? What kind of conflicts/events make the character change in some way? The defining characteristic of a short story vs. literary nonfiction is whether the protagonist develops over time (in real life, people don’t change that easily, haha)

Are there any symbols involved in the story? What do they represent?

Is there a particular way language is used? Repeated words, tone, etc.? Short stories are – well, short – so word choice would be extremely important. 

How is the author achieving a unity of characterization, plot, and language to produce a single narrative effect? 

These questions would make me think about:

Why does this character act this way? Short stories don’t have a lot of character backstory involved, so it’s fun to imagine where these characters might come from

What message/ lesson about the world is the author trying to tell the readers? Short stories often provide an impactful life lesson – through the use of irony. 

Would this story read differently if the author had used a different POV?

What do I think is THE THEME? It doesn’t have to be tied to a traditional moral, but the narrative must allow me to see the consequences of certain behaviors. 

How does this apply to my (or today’s society in general) life?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

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💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

[abattre]

It's actually so disappointing that Naruto's narrative took the route that it did. Kishimoto created an incredibly interesting world and premise, and ruined it by having everything amount to a shallow message of forgiveness that undermines almost every meaningful element in the story. And it's like,, I want to appreciate the world outside of the plot, but the moral framing of the story makes it virtually impossible because of how disingenuous it is. It completely undermines the audience's understanding of the tragedy and horror of the world so that Naruto becoming Hokage and being the most powerful person in the world by the end doesn't come across as distasteful as it actually is.

Like it's made abundantly clear throughout the story that the village system, and Shinobi society as a whole, is incredibly flawed. Kishimoto goes out of his way to show us that Konoha's council is made up of objectively horrible people. We see first hand how the council's short-sighted ideas of what 'protecting the village' means results in devastating tragedy for people both in Konoha and outside of it. It's clear in how Danzo and the rest of the council act that their atrocious behaviour is them just blatantly abusing their power to maintain their authority. The council has no remorse in anything they do; human experimentation, genocide, slavery, and blatant exploitation is all fair game to them if it preserves their status quo. And instead of maybe, like, addressing Konoha's skewed morality in a sensible way and setting the village up for reform, the narrative just tries forcing the audience to perceive Konoha's genuinely heinous actions as necessities. Which, you know, will work when you're like 8, but once you've grown up and developed some reading comprehension and critical thinking,,, it just feels annoyingly manipulative.

At its core, Naruto is a story that attempts to deconstruct morality. Like this is abundantly clear in how Kishimoto is constantly paralleling the dichotomy of good and evil literally every chance he gets. In the end though, this dichotomy just doesn't work in the context of the Naruto story because the narrative framing of the village being the good guys is just hysterically ridiculous. Konoha is an awful place, that does awful things, and is run by awful people that refuse to change anything because it benefits them for the village to remain awful forever. To anyone with a developed sense of media literacy the village cannot in any way be framed as morally good, so when the story resolves itself with Naruto becoming next in line to govern Konoha under the same unchanging authoritarian regime, with the same council supporting him because of his sheer physical prowess and complete dedication to their twisted ideology,,, it's honestly just an incredibly underwhelming conclusion to a story that made itself out to be more profound than it actually is.

If I had to guess, I imagine Kishimoto just didn't think through how negatively the world he created would reflect on the plot. Ultimately though, you can't write a moral story that's so deeply entrenched in real world social inequity and decide halfway through that because you don't know how to fix these things your story's going to have to be about how they're actually okay to be doing and perpetuating,,, like that is awful and also a terrible lesson to impart on an audience of children. With how serious the issues are in Shinobi society, trying to resolve things with the power of friendship was always going to fall flat. These broad scale injustices can't be brushed aside in that way without undermining their severity and diminishing the understandable impact they had on the characters that experienced such extreme oppression. That's essentially the trap that Naruto's conclusion falls into though, and so the story just ends up feeling incomplete and unfulfilling because none of the issues brought up are actually addressed or discussed with the gravity they deserve.

[last-flight-of-fancy]

hi hello i hope you don't mind but Special Interest Infodump Mode has been activated please keep hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times-

this explanation comes to us courtesy of Dark Road! You know, that cutesy little mobile game where literally the whole cast except the two protagonists dies. This is on brand bc the explanation has it's own fridge horror levels to it if i think too hard about it tbh.

So, worlds have hearts. We've known this since KH1, seen what happens to a world that loses its heart, and how they can be affected. It's rarely been expounded on beyond that however, aside vague allusions to the titular Kingdom Hearts being/harboring the Heart of All Worlds.

(which has. other implications now that i think about it but that's stepping into theorising territory. im sorry im trying really hard to stay on track honest)

fast forward to Dark Road, where we have a bunch of kids venturing out into the worlds for the first time, and as such have to have things explained to them (and thus the audience). NOW i will note here that KH looooooves unreliable narrators and characters imparting incorrect information without knowing it, so there is always the possibility that this could later turn out to be wrong, but currently I see no reason this would be the case and thus for now i feel safe in taking their words at face value unless otherwise contradicted.

Why are there no people? Because each world is alive, and after the Keyblade War sundering THE World into MANY Worlds, each needed to recover and restore what was lost; life, time, movement.

This bit here is important, bc as a result

All of this is the direct result of the Keyblade War of old. Even after so much time, the bits of worlds are *still* recovering, and I do think there's something to be said about how like... the repition between worlds and their apparent stagnation often *stops* after Sora visits them. I don't think it's because Sora's special(tm), but rather just because of who he is; the Dark Road kids are told never to interfere, and as a result the worlds they visit that Sora also visits later are exactly the same to Sora as they were 80+ years before.

But when Sora visits the same world only a short time after his first visit, things CHANGE. Hercules' story moves forward, Simba is having a crisis about being king, Jack Skellington has learned his lesson about Christmas and is on to new shenanigans. And that's only in kh2! in kh3 we see Twilight Town fill with people, barren Olympus expands into a full town (and there's more there too with BBS and how the Wayfinder Trio may have been Olympus' start towards restoring itself completely, and Sora's later arrival more speeding things along)

my point here is *connections*, which is a consistant and overarching theme of the series. Empty worlds are baby worlds, still healing and restoring from being broken away from the rest, and what helps along that healing? Being connected to others.

Which is to say that the keyblade weilder's doctrine of 'do not interfere' while most certainly well-intentioned (as Dark Road also points out, one persons darkness is anothers light, and morality is not a solid truth across worlds, so interfering is risky at best and dangerous at worst), the flip side to this is that without being connected, without that ''interferance'', the world's restoration stagnates and struggles. It will still get there eventually (the Tangled world seems to be doing alright for example), but chances are it might've been a little easier/faster if someone had done a little interfering.

tldr keyblade war broke the worlds and reset them all to zero. As the worlds heal time stops until it's People finally pop back into existance and their stories can resume. And that's how the invisible crowds in early kh games are canon.

[aliciavance4228]

Unpopular Opinion: Demeter Did Nothing Wrong

Alright, maybe the title isn't 100% accurate since she almost wiped the entire human race from earth, but you got the idea.

The thing with Demeter is that nowdays she is demonized/villainized all the time. And the most ironic part is that she is demonized by feminists, which leaves me quite confused, considering the fact that she would technically be a great example of female strength, especially when raporting to "Homeric Hymns to Demeter". But before discussing the myth of seasons, let's talk about her background story:

One thing that is certain about Demeter is that she had horrible experiences with almost all men from her life. Her father ate her. Poseidon raped her disguised as a horse. Zeus raped her as well (which led to the birth of Persephone). Iasion was one of the few men from her life who loved and respected her, and whom she lived with for a while before Zeus became jealous and killed him; yes, he is THAT much of a d-

The only one of her brothers who didn’t hurt her in any way at that time was Hades. And if you take into account the versions of the myths in which Hades was born before her that means that he was the one who took care of her as well during the time when they were trapped in their father's stomach. So it is pretty much implied that he was the only one of The Big Three whom she trusted the most, which makes the discovery that he was the one who kidnapped her daughter even more tragic.

Now, about "Homeric Hymns to Demeter": first of all I want to point out the fact that this myth isn't about Hades and Persephone. They are mostly mentioned in this story rather than actually playing an active role in it, because they have more of a symbolic value above it all. Wheter Persephone came to love Hades in time or despised him for the rest of her eternity is irrelevant, because this myth is not about her but Demeter.

Demeter had already faced some disturbing experiences even before Persephone was kidnapped. And considering the fact that her own daughter was a result of SA, it makes perfect sense why she would be protective towards her and raise her outside of Mount Olympus; every woman that was raped would fear that her daughter would face the same cruel fate.

About the abduction part: it is revealed to us at the beginning that Hades asked Zeus if he can marry his daughter, and he agreed. Hades only needed the approval of the father in order to wed her. Back in the Ancient Greece, especially in the Athens, people had a very patriarchal view on marriage. On short: the marriage would be usually planned between the groom and the father of the bride, her mother not knowing anything about what was going on until her daughter was already taken away from her. This myth is a representation of how the Patriarchy was a dominant system even among deities, with Zeus as its supreme figure.

At this point, the myth of seasons can be already considered a comfort story for mothers who had to endure the loss of their daughters either through death or marriage. This myth, however, has a lighter note as well, and that because Demeter, instead of accepting the fate of her daughter, left her anger free and did anything she could so that she would ultimately convince Zeus to give her daughter back, the last solution being leaving hundreds of humans dying of cold and hunger. This part basically shows how even a patriarchal figure like Zeus can be defeated by a mother's rage (or pure female rage, take it as you wish). Even though this myth is supposed to tell us just how seasons appeared, it can also be used as a moral lesson for men: it is better to consult with your wife and daughter before making a decision, or else there will be GREAT CONSEQUENCES.

And finally, one moment that is indeed very touching yet most people are ignoring for some reason is when her mother Rhea appears in front of her and starts to comfort her after she found out that Persephone ate the promeganate seeds, showing how a mother's mouring over her daughter was a common feeling among most female deities from Greek Mythology.

Now, is Demeter perfect? Absolutely not. And that is okay, because instead of that she is supposed to show in this myth a lot of humane and realistic nuances about what being a woman is like. She is a complex character, and completely demonizing her just because you ship Hades and Persephone is quite disturbing in my honest opinion. Wheter or not you like this couple (I won't condemn you because they are still one of the most stable relationships from Greek Mythology, but that basically shows just how f*cked up myths are in general lmao but anyway....), you have to understand the fact that the "Beauty and Beast" and "A mother's love will always conquer" are two tropes that can co-exist, and that things aren’t just black-and-white.

[neeeeeoposts]

sorry i did it again i made another fic... .. . ...

in short, its just a EEnE x Fosters Home AU (based off my Edd as an imaginary friend drawing from months ago)

there's more info under the cut or you can just read it idk👎👎👎

fic link here

anyways so if ur reading this, thanks!! i like this au and im glad ur reading more abt it :)

but anyways, ive stated before that this is an Ed Edd n Eddy x Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends AU.

The premise of the AU/Fic is mostly centered around Kevin and Edd, with Edd being Kevin's imaginary friend. Its just a compilation of mini stories where Kevin hates on Double D until he finally accepts Edd as his friend.

If you couldnt already tell from the drawings, i also have other characters included here too, heres a couple extra notes about each character in order:

If you havent seen my old post that inspired this piece, its right here so you can view it if youd like, but its just me fucking around with my powers of drawing. Its just Edd as a 'non-human' which i used for this work.

Each imaginary friend is supposed to teach their creator some sort of lesson in a way, for example; Edd (un)intentionaly shows Kevin how to be nicer to people? Or maybe some other moral im not sure

Adding onto that last fact, Ed is Rolf's imaginary friend who (actually unintentionally) teaches Rolf how to not overwork himself. Eddy, Nazz's imaginary friend, would show Nazz how to be herself and not a mask of what she thinks people think of her via Eddy's own actions. The Kanker sisters are just villains, but if I had to guess maybe its for Marie and Lee to appreciate the familial bonds between them and May? Finally, Sarah teaches Jimmy how to stand up for himself. Simple.

This fic is like a rewrite of the show, so characters are still 12 years old for the most part, and therefore will be no ships (because if you think about it in a FHFIF sense, a human character x imaginary friend is kinda weird....)

Plank is (still) Jonny's imaginary friend. And Plank is still a piece of wood.

I messed around with the creation of an imaginary friend for this fic, because I know that in FHFIF canon, if a child thinks of a friend it comes to life immediently based on their own thoughts alone, but for this fic i had to tweak it a bit, im sorry :(

Thats all for now, thank you for reading :)

[sir-adamus]

One thing I love about RWBY is how it manages to thread that needle of, "That's a person" & "They have a reason for being this fucked up" without forgetting or failing to convey, "Doesn't mean they aren't still being bastard!"

See Adam, Ironwood, Salem, Mercury, hell even Jac got some of that treatment, as much as his narrative role needed and more than someone like him would usually be given.

In that regard though, it does always leave me vexed and confounded that people act like the Brothers will be some big exception. As though their issue is just that they are a little confused and don't understand some things, but once its explained and or they go home, it'll all be chill.

Like, sorry but if the woman they tortured for potentially millions of years still gets the "She's still being a bastard" treatment I cannot envision why the Brothers genocide would avoid being framed or treated as such.

yeah it's kind of weird how people have a blindspot for the gods being petty, arrogant assholes in the backstory; like it's been a weirdly common trend to see people making posts claiming it's fine for the gods to be assholes because they're gods (and therefore shouldn't be held to any kind of moral standard whatsoever), or thinking that post-volume 9, now the goal of the show is RWBY reuniting the relics to summon the gods because "the world is united" and the gods will deal with Salem.

like, the terms of Salem's immortality are made very clear, and these jackasses aren't gonna rescind on their punishment of her (which i need to point out was immensely disproportionate even before the mass genocide. "you need to learn a lesson, so now you can't die until you do" is fucked up) just because everyone else is on the same side.

and on top of that, the gods returning only means hanging a Sword of Damocles over humanity's head, because if they don't stay united, then it's just gonna lead to another disproportionate tantrum and Remnant getting the full scorched earth treatment. not to mention the gods dealing with Salem would ultimately prove her right and be immensely unsatisfying narratively (it would literally be a deus ex machina)

RWBY borrows heavily from Final Fantasy and other JRPGs, and a major recurring element in those sorts of games is that defeating the present big bad in the narrative is never the end of the story, there's always a greater scope threat that's usually either your dad or god or both. coupled with how Light and Dark are heavily influenced by mythological gods and how those are often petty, short-sighted and abusive bastards who cause more problems than they solve, and we've recently been outright told that the Brothers have completely misunderstood what 'balance' is and how that's factored into their conflicts and decision making, and how that then filters down to their treatment of Salem, demanding she understand something they don't and expecting her to learn it through the punishment they inflicted on her only ended up causing more damage

Salem's defeat has to be factored into ending her curse, and the end of volume 9 makes heavy implication that it's RWBY, not the Brothers, who are going to achieve that. but even with Salem then out of the picture, the Brothers are still a threat, they still wiped out the population of an entire planet for childish reasons and routinely abandon their creations; someone else could go for the relics to try and summon them, so there's the potential damage they could do to Remnant again, and who knows what same horrors and punishments the Brothers are inflicting on the worlds they've gone on to make and abandon since?

[avastrasposts]

A Baker's Dozen - Three

Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.

Hi!

Look at all the love you guys gave Din last week! I'm completely overwhelmed and flustered and I'm so happy you guys love this little series of Pedro boys and, apparently, the luckiest woman in the world. I love exploring their voices and aaaaall the fluff and sweetness I want to cram into these stories. But before we meet Pedro boy number three I have to give a few shout outs: First to @maggiemayhemnj because of certain fashion choices in this story... Secondly to @trulybetty and @for-a-longlongtime who actually made Dieter's Millionaire's Shortbread from the first part! Dieter would be very proud of you both and then steal half the pan.

Series Master List

Now, enter Pedro boy number three, and look who it is...

You almost drop Mrs. Levinson’s bag of cardamom rolls when you see him stepping through the door with a hesitant look on his face. The tool belt sits low on his narrow hips, the faded denim shirt stretches tight over his shoulders and he’s looking around the bakery with a cautious frown. It’s like he’s stepped out of the pages of a calendar of sexy construction workers, and you mentally pick your jaw off the floor as he looks over at you.  

“Here you go Mrs. Levinson,” you say, adding the last cardamom roll to her bag and forcing your eyes away from the man. 

“Thank you dear,” she replies, giving you a sweet smile as she puts her hand on top of yours, “Have you seen Mrs Morales lately?” 

“No, Mrs Levinson, I haven’t.”

“Ask her about her son the next time she comes in, he’s such a sweetheart,” she pats your hand a few times, taking her bag. 

“Thank you, Mrs Levinson, see you next week,” you wave as she makes her way to the front door, the man with the construction belt holding it open for her with a polite, “Ma’am.” 

As he closes the door, you take a few steadying breaths, and smile as he comes over to the counter. 

“How can I help you?” you ask, trying to keep your eyes on his face and not let them stray to the freckles that disappear under the V of his shirt. 

He rubs his hands together, wiping at a stain that won’t budge, and gives you a small smile. 

“I’m wonderin’ if you offer baking lessons here? 

His Texas drawl is smooth and low, a pleasant lilt to his baritone voice and it just adds to his attraction. You wonder if he’s aware of how good looking he is, he doesn’t have that air or attitude. Instead he shrugs his shoulders and puts one hand into his pocket, the other one twitching nervously at his side as he waits for your answer. 

“I don’t do regular baking lessons but I’m sure I can arrange something,” you reply, “what did you have in mind?” 

“Well, my daughter, her birthday’s comin’ up and I’d like to make her a cake or a pie or…or somethin’ that’s not just a supermarket cake,” he says, “But I don’t know the first thing about baking and I reckon I might need a bit of help or I’ll burn the kitchen down.” He furrows his brow as he talks, looking up at you with chocolate brown eyes, his hand still twitching by his side. 

“That sounds like a very good reason to learn some baking, I'd be more than happy to help,” you smile at him and his forehead smooths out as he smiles back at you. 

“Really? That’d be great, I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem, and I’ll only charge you for the ingredients, not the lesson,” you say as you bend down and get your calendar out from under the counter.

“No, I can’t let you do that,” the man protests, “I have to pay you for your time.” 

“How about you pay me with time?” you ask, looking at the tool belt around his waist, “I have a couple of small jobs around the place that are probably pretty easy, but I don’t have the right tools, maybe you can help me with that?” 

“Yeah, sure, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that,” he nods and sticks out his hand, “I’m Joel, Joel Miller.” 

“Nice to meet you, Joel Miller,” you smile back at him as you shake his hand, “How about next Monday? I’m closed on Mondays so I can give you the lesson then.” 

“Umm….” he squints his eyes as if he’s thinking hard, “I think that works, afternoon alright for you?” 

“Yeah, whenever,” you reply, “come by at one and I’ll be here.” 

“Thanks, really ‘preciate it,” he grins at you, running his hand through his hair, making the dark curls stand on end as you resist the urge to reach up and touch them. 

“Do you have a preference for what to bake? Or does your daughter have a preference?” 

“As long as it’s easy and contains chocolate, we’re both happy,” he says, “It’s got to be easy, I’ve never done any baking in my life.” 

“Easy, gotcha, I’ll make sure it’s fool proof,” you laugh, “I think I have some ideas already, I’ll make sure you don’t burn down the house.” 

“Thanks,” he chuckles, “I’ll see you on Monday then.” 

He gives you a wave and a smile as he leaves. 

…

You can’t help but spend some extra time on your hair on Monday morning, picking out your cutest apron as you get to the shop and telling your reflection to get a grip as you apply some make up. But the man is just…you shake your head, focus now!

You’re putting the ingredients out on the workbench in the kitchen as you hear a knock on the front door. Joel is right on time and as you walk across the front of the shop he gives you a wave through the window. He’s got his tool belt slung over his shoulder and a toolbox in one hand. 

“Afternoon,“ he smiles and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your eyes from drifting over his wide shoulders, the green plaid flannel shirt he’s wearing hugging them tight. It looks as if he’s just showered, his dark curls are damp and brushed away from his face and his scruffy beard looks a little bit neater today. 

“Afternoon, you’re right on time,” you smile at him, leading him back into the kitchen where he puts his tools down in a corner. 

“Nice kitchen you’ve got,” Joel says, looking around the utilitarian workspace, “I never knew baking included so much equipment though.” He’s looking into your large dough mixer on the floor, the one used for big batches of bread. 

“Baking is a very equipment heavy sport,” you laugh, “I’ve got so many gadgets with only one use, it’s ridiculous. But don’t worry, you’ll only need three things.” 

“Sounds good,” Joel smiles at you and comes over to the counter where all the ingredients are laid out, “What are we making?” 

“Texas Trash Pie,” you say, looking at him for his reaction and it doesn’t disappoint, he furrows his brow and looks thoroughly confused. 

“Did you say ‘Trash Pie’?” 

“Yep, a Texas Trash Pie,” you laugh, “Don’t worry, it tastes a lot better than it sounds. And it’s one of those ‘use whatever you feel like’ pies so you can adjust it to your own taste.” 

“Ok, I see pretzels and pecans and chocolate, all things I like, so I’d say I’m good with that.”  He smiles at you, “What’s first?” 

“First we wash our hands,” you wave him over to your sink and let him clean up.

“So I’ve got two options for you, I’m going to teach you how to make the pie crust now, but you can buy a ready-made one too if you’re worried about making it from scratch,” you say as you point him to the recipe sheet you’ve printed for him, “Go on, follow that and I’ll help you out if you need it.” 

“Ok, throwing me in the deep end, huh?” he chuckles and starts rolling up the sleeves of the flannel shirt. 

“It’s sink or swim, Joel”, you grin, leaning next to him by the workbench, glancing down at how the sleeves of the shirt hug around his forearms when he’s got them folded up, you swear he’s flexing them on purpose, but he just leans down on the bench and picks up the paper.

He carefully reads the recipe in silence for a few minutes before he grabs the flour and gets to work. He doesn’t need any help from you in the first few steps, putting all the ingredients in the bowl and working them all together as you add cubes of cold butter. You don’t want to distract him so you stand next to him in comfortable silence while he consults the recipe every other minute to make sure he’s got all the steps. 

“Alright, I think that’s holding its shape right?” he asks you after working the ingredients together into a dough ball. 

“Looks very good to me,” you say, “Now, flatten it into a disc and wrap it in plastic, we’re going to let it chill for a bit.” 

“Right, boss,” Joel replies, and it makes your cheeks heat up, as you try to suppress a giggle.

“We can get the filling done now but then we have to wait for a bit,” you explain as he puts the dough in the fridge. 

“Ok, let’s do that and then I’ll see what you need help with around here.” Joel replies, double checking on his dough before closing the door, “Didn’t think pie dough was that easy, people make it sound real complicated.” 

“No, once you’ve got a good recipe it’s easy. And this next part is foolproof.” You hoist yourself up to sit on the workbench. 

“Don’t tempt me, I could still burn down your kitchen,” he chuckles, coming to stand next to you and you catch a whiff of his warm cologne. His eyes are level with yours now and you can’t help but reflect on how much like chocolate they are as he smiles at you. 

“Lucky thing I know a contractor who can rebuild it then,” you smile back at him and he gives you a wink. 

“Lucky you indeed. Do I know him? I could tell you if he’s any good,” he replies, picking up the recipe card. 

“You might know him, he’s tall, dark hair, cute smile, built like a barn door,” you smirk, feeling your butterflies erupt up as his own smile widens. 

“Cute smile huh? Must be from out of town, I don’t know any contractors with cute smiles in this place.” 

“He’s really bad at baking, but he’s got potential, might be an alternative career path if his construction thing doesn’t pan out.” 

Joel’s grins and glances down at his hands holding the recipe, a pink shade creeping up his neck under the shirt. 

“Yeah, I might know him,” he chuckles, looking up at you again, “Is he getting lessons from a real pretty baker girl, kinda makes her customers nervous with her own cute smile?” 

“Yeah,” you giggle, “that’s the one.” 

“Alright, good to know,” he smiles and your eyes are still locked together, both of you trying to contain your grins. 

Finally Joel breaks, clearing his throat and tapping his finger on the recipe card. 

“So, this is foolproof, even for me?” he asks, bending down to read the recipe as you nod.

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes as Joel checks that he has everything he needs and then he looks up at you again. 

“Really?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline, “That’s it? Dump all the stuff in a bowl and mix?” 

“Told you it was foolproof,” you reply, “and you can mix in other things if you prefer.” 

“Ok, but I’ll follow your recipe for now,” he says, “ ‘one cup semi sweet chocolate chips’.” He  grabs the measuring cup and the chocolate chips. 

You watch him as he carefully measures out the ingredients in the bowl and then mixes it all together. 

“That’s it?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yup, that’s it, now grab the dough from the fridge and roll it out to fit that pie form,” you point him to the form you’ve placed on the bench for him. 

“Alright, never used a rolling pin, but I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Joel grins as he unwraps the dough. You watch him weigh the rolling pin in his hand as he cocks his head and looks at the dough, as if he’s sizing it up, figuring out how he’s going to tackle it.

“Any special tricks I need to know?” he asks, looking over at you. 

“No, just keep even pressure and try to roll it out into a circle but don’t stress too much, it doesn’t have to be perfect.” 

“Ok, here goes then,” he laughs and starts rolling. He’s tentative at first, squinting at the dough every other time he rolls over it. 

“Put your weight behind it, Joel,” you smile at him, “it won’t break.” 

“If you say so, you’re the master baker,” he replies, adjusting his stance and putting more force into it. The green plaid of his flannel stretches across his back as he starts rolling in earnest across the dough, and you can’t help your eyes flitting between the way his hands grip the rolling pin and the tight seams of his shirt. 

Far too soon Joel’s got the dough nice and smooth, rolled out into a neat circle. 

“You’re a natural at that, Joel,” you laugh and give him a quick pat on the back that makes him puff up a little. 

“Tell my daughter, she’s never going to believe me when she sees her old man with a rolling pin in hand.” 

“I’m sure she’ll be very impressed,” you say, handing him the pie form, “So next step is to roll the pie dough onto the rolling pin and drape it over the form, then we bake it.” 

You tell him how to move the dough into the pie form and he gives you a proud smile as it settles neatly. 

“Now cut away the overhang and we’ll get it in the oven.” 

While the pie crust bakes you make Joel a coffee and treat him to some of your leftovers. 

“It’s not fresh but they’re still good,” you say, handing him a pain au chocolat, his large hands dwarfing the pastry. 

“I’m really not complaining,” he chuckles, biting down into the flaky dough, “I’ll bring my daughter next time I come, she's got an even bigger sweet tooth than me, but not until after her birthday, or she’ll catch on to my surprise.” 

“If you find out her favorite I can teach you how to make that next time,” you say, leaning against the counter with your coffee while Joel smiles at you. 

“You’re being far too nice, you’re gonna ruin your business if you keep giving away baking lessons.”

“Who said I’m giving them away, I’m charging you next time,” you laugh, “this first time freebie was just to get you suckered in, now I’ve got you hooked.” 

“You’ve sure got me hooked, darlin’,” Joel drawls, winking at you, and heat rushes to your cheeks. 

“You’re a real flirt, Joel,” you giggle, trying to contain the butterflies that have erupted in your stomach again as he keeps his eyes on yours, looking up through his dark eyelashes as he smiles at you. 

“Just being honest, honey,” he says, taking another sip of his coffee and finally taking his eyes off you. You feel like you can breathe normal again, resisting the urge to fan yourself with your hand as you sip your from your own mug. 

In the kitchen you hear the oven ping and you set your mug down as Joel looks up, “The crust is ready, time for the last step.” 

“I feel like you’re going easy on me,” he chuckles, “shouldn’t baking be harder than this?” He follows you into the kitchen as you smile at his comment. 

“You’re on beginner level, Miller. You’re not gonna let me build a house the first time I use a hammer right?” 

He laughs at that, his eyes squinting as his shoulders jump. 

“Alright, point taken, darlin’,” he chuckles, taking the oven mitts from you, “I’ll stay on the easy stuff for now.” 

“And I’m actually giving you a challenge,” you point out as he carefully lifts the pie crust from the oven and sets it down on the workbench, “I could’ve given you a recipe that required no oven.” 

“Wait, you’re telling me I could’ve done this lesson with no oven?” 

“Sure, but here we are, and your pie is ready to be baked,” you smile, “Just dump the mixture into the crust and smooth it out as best you can, it’s going to even itself out in the oven anyway.”

Joel does as you say, dolloping the sticky mixture into the pie crust and pressing it down lightly. 

“All done, but, there’s one extra addition I like to do that’s not in the recipe,” you say, nodding as he puts the final touch to the pie. “You can sprinkle just a little bit of sea salt over the top, it’s a nice contrast to the sweetness of the pie, especially with the caramel and the condensed milk.” 

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Joel says, “if you say it’s good, I’ll trust that.” 

You hand him the container and he grabs a pinch, “Just a sprinkle?” 

“Just a sprinkle, try to get it evenly over the top.” 

“And now in the oven?”

“Yep, just in the oven and then we wait.” 

As you watch, Joel carefully slides the pie form back into the oven and closes the door and you set a timer. 

“Alright, let me clean up and you can show me what needs fixin’, I’ve already seen that shelf in the corner,” he says, nodding over to your bookshelf that doubles as an office, holding all the paperwork for the bakery. 

“What’s wrong with it?” you ask and Joel walks over to it and gives the corner of it a gentle kick, making the whole thing sway. 

“Oh, ok,” you say as Joel grabs the shelf to steady it, “please fix that.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get it stable, but you might want to consider replacing it, that cheap Ikea stuff will always start to wobble after a while,” he says, washing off and moving his tool box in front of the bookshelf as you start to remove some of the contents. 

“Actually,” Joel says, looking around the bakery’s kitchen, “You don’t have an office, do you? Where do you do the paperwork for the business?” 

“On the workbench,” you say, pointing to where Joel’s bowl still is, “or I just take it home with me.” 

“You know, I did a job a few months ago, built a small fold away office set for a bedroom,” he says, giving the kitchen an appraising look, “If you get rid of the bookshelf, I could build you a new one and include a desk that you can fold away, it basically works as a door for the shelf when you put it up, and a desk when it’s down. Here, let me show you.” 

He pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of what he means, the office set up is a sleek custom build in a small bedroom. 

“Wow, you built this?” you ask, “It’s beautiful, but I could never afford something custom built like that, I’m sorry.” 

Joel gives you a warm smile, putting his phone back, “I’ve got plenty of material left over from that job, and my time is free for you, I’d be happy to build it for you,” he says but you shake your head. 

“Really, Joel, that’s too much, you’ve already offered to fix things around the kitchen, I can’t let you build that too.” 

“Please, stop being so infuriating and just accept the damn thing,” Joel chuckles, bending to pick up a screwdriver from the toolbox, “Plus, it gives me an excuse to come back here after we’re done with this pie.” 

“You don’t need an excuse to come back, Joel,” you smile as you watch him begin tightening the screws holding the old bookshelf together. 

“I don’t?” he asks, still focused on the screws but you see him glance over as you pull out what you need to make the foundations for a wedding cake for next weekend. 

“Of course not,” you smile, “you’re welcome anytime, baking lessons or not.” 

“I might take you up on that then,” he says with a grin, giving the bookshelf a shake. “Ok, it’s sturdy now but I’m going to take some measurements for your new one.” 

“Thanks Joel, I really appreciate it,” you reply as you begin measuring the ingredients. 

“You’re welcome, and it’s no bother, really,” he smiles as he comes over to you and looks over your shoulder, his arm touching yours as you move back, but he doesn’t back up, the warmth from him seeping through the layers of clothes. 

“What are you making?” he asks and you tilt the bowl towards him. 

“Sponge cakes, they’re the bases for a wedding cake I’m delivering on Saturday.” 

“That must be the master level of baking,” he says, looking at the sketch of the cake you’ve made alongside the recipe, “It looks complicated.” The cake has four layers, each layer decorated with different coloured macarons and intricate flowers made from sugar and Joel traces his finger over the pattern, “Incredibly beautiful, I’d love to see it when it’s done.” 

“I’ve got pictures of a similar one on the bakery’s Instagram page,” you say but Joel shakes his head. 

“I don’t have Instagram, but my daughter keeps buggin’ me about it, says it’d be good for business if I had pictures of the stuff I make on it. But I don’t know…” he shrugs as if the very idea of social media is beyond him and it makes you laugh. 

“She’s right though, it would be good for business,” you say and he shrugs again. 

“I might get an account just so I can see your cakes though,” he grins and you smile up at him. He’s still standing very close, leaning his hip against the bench, his eyes flitting down to your lips and back up. Your head fills with the image of him leaning closer, soft looking lips parted as his hand finds your waist. 

But he bites down on his plush bottom lip instead, the faintest shade of pink tinging his cheeks, turning to face the kitchen, “I’d better get a start on paying you back,” he says, grabbing hold of his tool belt. 

“Ok,” you breathe out, momentarily flustered as you turn back to the cake batter, pulling your eyes away from the way he tightens the belt around his waist, hanging low on his hips. 

Joel quickly spots a few other things that need fixing around the kitchen, things you hadn’t even noticed, and gets them sorted in quick succession, a wonky wall shelf, an exposed wire, the squeak on your back door and the glitchy handle on the inside of the fridge. 

“Alright, no more getting locked into the fridge,” he says, testing the handle while you dust off your hands. 

“Thanks, Joel, really, that one’s been giving me trouble for a while,” you say and he gives you another warm smile. 

“Anything else you need help with?” he asks, “Maybe the AC? It’s boiling in here now.” He unbuttons his green plaid flannel and shrugs out of it, the gray t-shirt below is showing sweat stains as he hangs the shirt on your coat hanger. 

“Uhm…” your brain stalls as he turns around and looks at you with a hand on his hip, “No, no, the AC works fine, it’s not on though, makes the kitchen too cold.” 

“Alright, you’ll just have to put up with my sweat stink then,” he says, “Should we get back to the pie or does it need more time?” His cheeks are pink and he absentmindedly rubs his hand over his scruffy beard as he waits for your answer, his lips curving up in a smile as he catches your eyes drifting over his shoulders, the t-shirt pulled tight over the width of them. 

“Ah..umm…no, I don’t think so,” you stutter, attempting to slap your brain back into shape. As a means to distract yourself you walk over to the tall shelving system that holds all your bigger equipment, reaching up to lift down your biggest cake container, “It probably needs about twenty more minutes, I set a timer.” 

The container catches on something out of sight up on the shelf and you tug at it but it’s still stuck. 

“Oh c’mon, don’t make me get the ladder,” you grumble, tugging at it again. 

“Hang on, let me help you,” you hear Joel behind you just as you give the container another pull, and the whole shelf creaks, starting to tilt towards you, a metal bowl clanking onto the floor, hitting your shoulder on the way down. 

“Oh!” you gasp, putting up your hands to stop the whole thing from falling on top of you, the heavy Husqvarna shifting and sliding above your head. Suddenly Joel is right behind you, his chest pressed up against your back as he grabs the shelf on either side, pushing it back up against the wall, making the equipment rattle. 

“You ok, honey?” he asks, still pressing the shelf back, trapping you between his arms as you exhale. 

“Yeah, thanks, I’m good,” you huff, “Fuck, that scared me,” you give a shaky laugh as Joel carefully releases his grip on the shelf and takes a step back, letting you turn towards him, “Thanks for catching it, that could’ve been bad.” 

“That could’ve been really bad,” he nods, looking at you with concern, “If that thing hit you, you wouldn’t be walking away. I’ll get it secured to the wall for you right now.” 

“It was attached to the wall, at least the guys who remodeled this space said they attached it,” you say as Joel steps to the side of the shelf and looks up at the brackets attached to the wall. 

“Yeah, they might’ve, but the screws are coming out of the wall now. Do you have a ladder?” he asks, turning back to you but he frowns as he sees you. “Darlin’, you’re looking a bit pale,” he puts his hand on your cheek, his warm palm making nerves of another kind shiver inside you. 

“C’mon,” he says, gently leading you back to the workbench, helping you hoist yourself up to sit on it, “looks like you had a bit of a shock, can I get you somethin’, water maybe?” 

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, giving him a small smile. The shelf tipping had scared you but now it’s his closeness that’s making you jittery. He smells so good, even with his sweaty t-shirt you can smell his cologne, and when he smiles in return, your stomach clenches and you glance down at his lips. 

“Darlin’,” Joel says, his voice low as he sees your eyes move back up to his, “if you don’t stop looking at my lips, I’m going to have to kiss you.” 

You almost lose your words as his hand finds its way to your cheek again, the thumb caressing across your heated skin.

“Please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His eyes are dark as he leans in, searching yours, and when you put your hand on his arm, his skin is warm, flexing under your fingertips. The scruff on his chin tickles your lips as he brushes his nose over your cheek, prolonging the moment before his eyes slip closed, and he takes a shallow breath. 

You don’t know what to expect, a soft peck maybe, a careful first kiss, but not this. His lips finally land on yours with a gentle press, warm and plush. But his hand on your cheek holds you close as he slowly parts his lips and you feel the hot tip of his tongue lick across your bottom lip, begging you to open up. You let him in with a low moan, your hand slipping up his arm, over his shoulder, and you tangle your fingers in his hair. His tongue is gentle but insistent, letting you open up for him, but he doesn’t hold back when you do, every bit of space you give him, he claims. One hand lands on your hip, pulling you closer before he slides it up to your back and you mimic him, feeling his muscles move under the thin cotton of his t-shirt as you run your hand over his shoulder blades. When he steps in between your legs, the full length of his warm chest pressed up against yours, you’re almost embarrassed by how loud your moan is in the quiet kitchen. But Joel licks into your mouth, pulling you closer as if he wants to pull another one from you, letting you swallow down his own groans. 

Minutes pass, your face feels hot, flustered, your body weightless as your lips tingle under his. You can hear his heavy breaths into your mouth, his pulse thrumming under your fingertips as you caress his neck, rake through his soft curls. And you can feel his excitement in the way he’s pressed himself against you, you’re just one bold move from hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him back onto the workbench with you. 

You don’t know who pulls back first, maybe it’s the sheer lack of oxygen that makes you both separate just a little, foreheads leaning together, your eyes still closed as he runs his fingers across your cheek, tracing your lips.

“Darlin’...” he whispers, his voice low and breathless, “Open your eyes.” 

You look up at him, he’s smiling softly, almost in stunned wonder, and you know he’s mirroring the look on your face. 

“Will you let me take you out for dinner some time?” he asks, still letting his thumb trace the outlines of your face, “I would very much like to do this again.” 

“Any day, Joel,” you reply, leaning into the warmth of his hand as he cups your cheek again. 

“Alright, darlin’, then let me get that shelf secure so that you don’t end up killing yourself before I get a chance to do more of this.” He bends to your mouth again, and you part your lips in anticipation, his tongue slipping eagerly into you with a low groan. 

Your head spins when he pulls back with a sigh after too short of a time pressed against you. 

“You’ve got a pie to take care of too I guess,” you smile at him and he chuckles. 

“I’d all but forgotten ‘bout the pie, honey.” 

Right on cue the timer goes off and Joel reluctantly pulls away, grabbing the oven mitts from the counter. 

“Let’s see this masterpiece then,” he grins, stepping over to open the oven door and pulling out the pie. He puts it down on the counter and gives a low whistle.  “That’s a mighty nice pie, if I do say so myself,” he chuckles, looking very proud of himself. 

“It’s a fantastic looking pie, Joel, you did great,” you smile and he grins at you. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, darlin’. And I’m really looking forward to trying it but I should get that shelf attached to the wall first.” 

He smiles at you again, giving your thigh a quick squeeze before he turns and crouches down over his tool box, digging through it. 

“You said you have a ladder?” he asks, looking back at you over his shoulder.  “Yeah, out in the back room, I’ll grab it for you;” you reply and jump off the workbench. The ladder is tucked away in a corner and as you pull it out you hear Joel start up his power drill. 

“Here you go,” you say, putting the ladder next to the shelf and Joel gives it a shake, testing the stability. 

“Might wanna invest in a new ladder too, honey,” he says, “these cheap ones are not too stable. I’ll pick you up a new one at the hardware store, I get a good professional discount there, save you some money.” 

“You’re coming in here and just fixing everything, Joel,” you smile and he gives a little chuckle, shrugging as he gets up on the ladder. 

“I just like to make sure everything’s working, don’t wanna see you get hurt over something I could easily fix,” he says. 

“I really appreciate it, Joel,” you say and he winks down at you. 

“Now, cover your ears, darlin’, this is gonna get noisy.” 

You do as he says and he gets to work. It doesn’t take him many minutes to make new holes in the wall, fill up the old ones and make sure the shelf is securely screwed to the wall again. When he gets back down onto the floor he gives the structure a hefty shake and it doesn’t budge. 

“Alright, there you go, no more death traps in your kitchen, honey.” 

“Thanks Joel, really,” you say, “I feel like you’ve done way much more than I could ask of you, just for teaching you one pie.” 

“Make it up to me then,” he smiles, “I’ll get a babysitter and you let me take you out for that dinner on Saturday.” 

“How is that me repaying you?” you laugh as Joel steps closer, capturing your chin between his thumb and finger. 

“Because it gives me the chance to kiss you some more,” he smiles, bending to find your lips again. 

“You’re a very cheap contractor, Joel,” you mumble into his mouth as he brushes his nose against yours while he teases your lips. 

“Your kisses are worth a lot more than you think, darlin'.” 

Part Four

If you want to try out Joel's Texas Trash Pie, here you go!

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