the Rise after the Fall.

A/N: Sooo here’s the next fic from my Request List, which I know for a while now has been sadly neglected! Based on the below request in which Jax has a crush on reader, who is Abel’s daycare teacher, and finally gets his chance with her. I got inspired to write it for my dear @happyhunnams​’ birthday as I know she’s been excited for this one! 💝 This is also my next entry for @band–psycho’s Bingo Challenge! ✨

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, good teacher falling for that bad cock, Jax having a huge crush and being awk and adorbz as fuck Request: This anon request Bingo Square Filled: “Give me a chance”

Word Count: ~2.8k

He’s bad.

He’s cigarettes and drugs and guns. He’s stained in blood from all the dirty jobs he’s done, from all the shit he’s hit and run. He’s inked in black and leather-clad. Some time ago he lost his wife, love of his life, and the loss drove him fucking mad. 

You look at him and you feel sad. He has two sons. Two little sons. Like he has any business raising little ones. A man like that—he really shouldn’t be a dad.

But so he is, and it’s so bad the way you almost just forget that he’s a criminal when he scoops up his young son in his arms and greets him with a tender kiss. You run the best daycare in Charming; somehow Mr. Teller always comes on time to drop off Abel in the morning, which is really quite alarming. Not so punctual for pick-up in the afternoon—but even when he’s running late Abel will squeeze your hand and say ‘he’s coming soon’—like in his bones he feels his daddy’s engine thrumming.

You yourself can feel a different kind of thrumming, every time you see Jax coming. Wish you weren’t that kind of woman. Kind of woman who would throw away her dignity to fuck the king of Charming.

God, he’s bad. And even worse, because you think about the bad guy every night and touch yourself until you burst. ‘Cause he’s the best wet dream you’ve ever fucking had.

***************

You’re good.

You’re pink apples and picture books and pinwheels spinning in the summer sun. You’re like a mother to his son. You’re everything he wants to have and hold, and fuck if only he should be so bold, but knows he never should.

It’s hard when every day he wakes and thinks of you as he rubs out his morning wood.

Ever since his most tragic loss, Jax hasn’t had space for a thing inside his heart other than hatred toward his sorry self for having been the cause. By now it’s been a while though. Some part of him is letting go. Yet even so part of him knows, he’ll never be the man he was.

Won’t love the way he did before. Loss changes as it ever does. Can barely recognize the widower, the killer in the mirror. Splashes water on his face, raises to meet his gaze, and takes a steady pause. Searching himself for any part of him that’s pure.

The part of him that’s real—that can still feel—that may at last have come to heal… won’t love the way he did before.

For shame, won’t ever love the same. But if his heart survives its self-inflicted war, then maybe on the other side there’s hope of loving more.

@mother.woods

Is it any coincidence that mother's milk flows from the abundance of flesh manifested around the heart chakra? Like an elixir made from love-life-force, capable of completely sustaining new life. 🍑🍑 #bosomnectar #whitelight

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When I nursed my babies I enjoyed facilitating LOVE and LIFE and white light flowing through the portal of my heart & into my child.💓 #energeticnourishment #soulfood #lightsnacks #zeropoint #stargate #unityconsciousness

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Today I felt called to share how mom's body reads baby's immune status to create a custom medicine, rich in the perfect antibodies & immune support.

👇👇👇

"According to Katherine Hinde, (biologist and associate professor at the Center of Evolution & Medicine at Arizona State University) when a baby suckles at mothers breast, a vacuum is created. Within that vacuum, the infant’s saliva is sucked back into the mother’s nipple, where receptors in her mammary gland read its signals. This “baby spit backwash,” as she delightfully describes it, contains information about the baby’s immune status. If the mammary gland receptors detect the presence of pathogens, they compel the mother’s body to produce antibodies to fight it, and those antibodies travel through breast milk back into the baby’s body, where they target the infection. “‘At the same time that it is medicine, breast milk is a private conversation between mother and child. While my [baby] lacks words, breast feeding makes it possible for him to tell me exactly what he needs.’”

🤩

1st art piece by Sara Shakeel

2nd unknown

little girls grow up, wishing to be princesses

they are taught what is right and what is wrong from the day they are old enough to walk

the girl who wants pretty dresses and and a handsome prince is praised for her ambition

but the girl who wants to fight dragons instead of playing with toys is told to leave that job for the boys

she is taught to be the picture of joy, and is reprimanded for having dreams of being a cowboy

little girls grow up, with perfection as their only option

they have to smile, they have to say pretty please, they have to put the man at ease, they have to be the perfect little princess

little girls who are not so little anymore

taught to play pretend, told to act helpless, so the perfect prince may come to save her

they are told to lock themselves in stone towers, with monsters as guards, so a boy can prove himself worthy

but maybe, maybe that monster was her friend, and the boy they thought was worthy, just brought its life to an end

but she is well practiced, in playing pretend, her life should be easy now, she has a man on which she can depend

and every time she sees him, she wants to run the other way, but you told her she had to stay, stay and be the perfect princess to her perfect prince

little girls, grow up in the shadows of men

stripped of opportunity, put safely in their place as the weaker half of society, destined to fail, before even getting a chance

little girls are taught to shine bright, but not so bright that they take away from a man’s light

we are taught that it is unlady-like to fight, but men will not fight for what is right

little girls are taught to to wish for big castles and handsome princes, to wish for pretty dresses, and a tiara upon their head

maybe it’s time to stop teaching us to perfect be princesses, and starting making us into queens

woman you've become today, honestly

you worked hard to transformed your

entirety, and whatever things and

achievements you had right now, you

deserve it.