#feliz cumpleaños pequeña putita

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

@rebelwrites ✨

When I opened this blog, I would never thought I could find someone like you. You're the most kind, lovely, funny and badass person ever. We started talking because of our language problems, sharing spanish-english translations, and you have become an important person to me. We're talking the whole damn day, about writings, about Mayans, about SOA, making jokes and having fun. You have helped me whenever I had a mental breakdown, giving me all the support on the world, and I couldn't be more proud of calling you my friend. Sending you a big hug with a lot of love from Spain, I will let you read why I wrote for you. And I just hope you have the best birthday ever surrounded by your friends, family and Kiwi. I love you, my lil slut ❤✨

When Heather wakes up lonely on her birthday morning, she's confused. And a little bit pissed, waiting to do it surrounded by Jax arms. She palms his side of the mattress to check that it's cold, so he probably had to leave the house for some club shit. Putting on her glasses and stepping out from the bed, she walks out of their shared room wearing nothing but one of his large black shirts. Grabbing the fabric in a fist, she takes a deep breath feeling less lonely as Jax's scent fills up his lungs. But some strange noises inside the kitchen push her out of his bubble.

Arching a brown eyebrow over the glasses, pulling the blonde locks of hair to a side, she sticks out her head off the frame to find Happy fighting with the coffeemaker.

“Son of a bitch… I'm going to fucking ki—”.

“Open the lash on the top and put the capsule inside”.

The man stares at her in silence, as if she talked to him in another language. Rolling her eyes, Heather takes some steps closer to follow the same instructions she had given him literally two seconds ago. He is fascinated.

“So, what are you doing here?”

“Birthday”. He replies, as he points himself.

Squinting until she gets the joke, she can't help but break into loud laughs, scaring Happy for a moment because he wasn't expecting. Scaring. Happy.

“Jax asked me to pick you up”.

“No, thanks. I don't wanna die”.

“But you have to come with me”.

“For what?”

Nothing. Not a single word. He has already met his quota of conversation for the rest of the day. When the coffee is ready and the man is going to take the mug, Heather is fast clicking her tongue repeatedly.

“Make yours, grown man”.

A growl escapes from his mouth, watching him close his hands in two fists.

After a warm shower fantasizing about what her husband has prepared for today, she is ready to wear some clothes before leaving. Excited and with a bunch of ideas running through his head, she puts on a pair of ripped jeans with a comfy white shirt under a black squared franel shirt and her favorite jacket leather. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she finishes the outfit with her favorite pair of camel Timberland boots. Jax has tried a thousand times to convince her of changing them for a new pair, but she refuses, keeping that pair because it was the first gift that he made her.

Getting out from her room, tying up her hair on a messy bun and grabbing her bag, she follows Happy to the outside. Putting on the helmet, knowing that she will have to re-make her hairstyle, Heather sits behind the man not sure if it's a good idea; questioning herself why she can't simply drive her red Ford Fiesta to wherever they're going.

And she is starting to understand it after reaching the racing circuit in the surroundings of Charming. Jackson is already there, resting his body against a long car covered by a black sleeve. The smile on his face grows a little more when the president can make eye-contact with her. Jumping out from Happy's bike and giving him back the helmet, they meet halfway. Jax doesn't doubt, welcoming her between his arms and filling up her face with a bunch of tender kisses.

“Happy birthday, wifey”. His tone of voice is full of happiness and love, placing an arm over Heather's shoulders. “Ready to open your present?”

“Isn't this place too public to take off your jeans?”

The loud laughter that Jax utters makes her giggle. It's not like she can avoid these kinds of comments with someone like her husband.

“C'mon, lil slut”. He hums leading her to the car.

With nervous fingers, she pulls the cover out to the floor. Her heart races too fast, alternating her attention between the present and the man proudly smiling by her side. An immaculate red Mustang Shelby GT500 of '65, with two white strips crossing the whole body. Freshly restored just for her. Her dream car. Heather has talked about it like a hundred times with Jax, but she would never have thought that his husband could find one and all the pieces and original spare parts to tune it up.

She wants to say something, but her vocal cords look like they are freezed right now. Turning at the blonde man, starting to worry just in case she doesn't like the present, she practically jumps onto him. He can't help but cry. Since the first moment they two meet, the only thing that Jax has wanted is to make her happy. To make her laugh. To make her feel loved. To make her feel the most important person in his life. She is. For him, there's no one else but his amazing wife.

“Do you wanna ride it?” He murmurs into her ear, holding her tightly against his body. She nods in silence, she can't talk yet.

When the grip loosens, she takes off her glasses to clean the tears in her eyes, using the fist of the sleeve as her steps continue to her new stunning car. The smell of gingerbread fills her lungs, as soon as she opens the driver door, focusing her eyes on the air-freshener hanging from the rear view mirror. Jax can't help but break into loud laughter, as he sees her face looking at the item with a picture of him. Shirtless. The kinds of ideas that only he could have, obviously.

And it's like a damn fantasy. Not seeing her husband terrified on the copilot seat, but how fast her Mustang rides. Taking the curves like in a damn Daqar, almost putting it onto two wheels and speeding up on the long straight. The engine roars like a furious lion, vibrating the road under it. She loves the velocity. It makes her feel like the freedom after a lockdown. Heather has no words to explain it. But the happiness that runs her body is like touching the sky, with Eminem playing through the speakers just like in a dream.

And even if she thinks that the day wouldn't be better, her mind changes as soon as she reaches the yard of the clubhouse, driving her Mustang with Jax riding his bike by her side. A big birthday's banner welcomes her at Teller-Morrow. There are white balloons all around, the crew cheering her up with claps and whistles, before starting to sing to her.

Jax has been preparing it since a month ago, wanting it to be the perfect day just for his wifey. He would give her the moon, if she asks for it. Layla is the first one on hugging her, tightly and transmitting her all the love in the world; before being interrupted by the high-pitched barks of Kiwi. Of course, she should have been there too. Taking her best friend into her arms, receiving a bunch of dearly licks all around, Heather goes straight to Chibs and Opie to melt themselves into a big warm hug.

“Happe' berday', lass”.

“Hope you like what we did. We put on it our best”. Opie says about crying, seeing her so happy, aware that she deserves only good things in life.

“Yeah, but where's the pizza?” She asks with some chuckles, making them laugh.

“Next to the coffee, darling”.

Jackson takes her wife into his arms, leaving the poor Kiwi between their bodies not knowing who she has to lick now.

“Thank you for that, husby”. Heather pouts at him, looking at his god-damn-hot man through her eyelashes.

“You don't have to, my love. You know I would give my life for you, for seeing you smile. That's the only thing I want”. He replies, showing her that charming grin that makes her shake. “I love you more than anything, Heather. I can't imagine a day without making you happy. I can't imagine a fucking day without you”.

[happybirthdaylittlebitch-blog]

1.

¡Hola, pinche putita! Primero que nada quiero desearte un feliz cumpleaños y pedirte disculpas por demorar tanto en darte tu “regalo” siento tanto que no se trate de putas y alcohol, pero es algo incluso mejor. Comencemos; Decir que te amo con todo mi corazón es poco, a pesar de que nunca hablemos o que en ocasiones peleemos por tonterías mi aprecio hacia ti nunca cambia, nunca cambia la manera en la cual te veo. Eres mi pequeña pelirroja, mi enana, la hermana menor que más quiero en este mundo, quiero que sepas que lo daría todo por ti, siempre sacas la mejor parte de mi y de alguna u otra forma me obligas a ser mejor persona.