~𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙸𝙴 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙲𝙻𝚈𝙳𝙴~

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥𝕪-𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

Tig flipped through the small book of Polaroids, his rough fingers tracing over the glossy surface of each image. His heart clenched as he stopped on his favorite one—Bellatrix at eighteen, standing beside her first motorcycle, her entire face lit up with pure joy. He could still remember that day as if it had just happened, the way her black-painted lips had stretched into the widest grin he'd ever seen. He leaned back in his chair, the cool night air from the slightly cracked basement window whispering over his skin as he let himself fall into the memory.

Halloween morning, 2008.

 The air in Charming was crisp, carrying the faint scent of burning wood from distant chimneys. The SAMCRO clubhouse was unusually lively for so early in the morning, but today wasn't just any day. Today was Bellatrix's eighteenth birthday, and Clay had something special planned.

She had just come down the hallway from her bedroom, dressed head-to-toe in a black, skin-tight catsuit that hugged every curve she had. The outfit was complete with velvet cat ears perched atop her sleek black bob, sharp whiskers drawn onto her face with kohl liner, and a long, flexible tail attached to the small of her back. It was Halloween, after all, and Bellatrix never did anything halfway.

The heavy clunk of her knee-high black boots echoed off the concrete as she entered the main room of the clubhouse, where Clay, Bobby, and Tig were waiting. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, her painted nails tapping against the strap impatiently. "Alright, I'm headin' to school. Y'all got about six hours before I come back to see what kind of birthday debauchery you bastards got planned."

Clay smirked, arms crossed over his chest. "Not so fast, kitten."

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicion creeping into her expression. "Why do you sound like you're up to something?"

Tig, leaning lazily against the bar with a cigarette hanging from his lips, just chuckled, shaking his head. "You got no faith in us, Trixie."

"None," she deadpanned.

Bobby let out a hearty laugh and gestured toward the front door. "Come on, birthday girl. Got somethin' to show ya."

Her boots clicked against the pavement as they led her outside, her breath puffing into the chilly morning air. The second she stepped into the lot, her eyes locked onto the gleaming motorcycle parked right in front of her. She stopped dead in her tracks.

The '89 Harley-Davidson Electra Glide stood there like a goddamn dream, its rich burgundy paint catching the early morning sun, making the silver shimmer pinstripe glisten like liquid metal. The chrome gleamed, every inch of it polished to perfection, reflecting the stunned look on Bellatrix's face. Her breath hitched, her gloved hand covering her mouth as she took slow, disbelieving steps toward the bike.

"No fuckin' way," she whispered, eyes wide.

Clay's voice was filled with pride. "She's yours, sweetheart."

Bellatrix spun to face him, mouth open in shock. "Are you shittin' me?"

Clay grinned, giving a small shrug like it was no big deal. "You passed your test weeks ago. Figured it was time you had your own wheels."

Her hands flew up to her head, knocking her cat ears askew as she tried to process what was happening. "I—what—holy shit."

Tig chuckled, stepping up beside her and nudging her with his elbow. "Bobby even did the pinstriping himself. Looks good, huh?"

Bellatrix turned to Bobby, eyes still impossibly wide. "You did this?"

Bobby grinned proudly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Damn right I did. Ain't gonna let Clay give you a bike without makin' sure it's got some class."