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irish-nlessing · 7 years

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Happy Birthday Abby

Soft snuffling noises and hot breath washed over Niall’s face. He groaned and tried to bury himself further into his pillows to escape his furry alarm clock, but to no avail.

“C’mon Abs, it’s m’birthday. Can’t I sleep in?”

A cold, wet nose nudged his arm and Niall peeked one eye open to see a brown and white face shoved under the crook of his arm. Her huge brown eyes looked at him pleadingly and she let out the tiniest whimper. With a resigned sigh Niall pecked a kiss to her nose and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched and yawned, scratching lazily at the dark hair covering his chest. Standing with a slight groan and stretch of his legs he turned to help Abby off the bed.

“What the…..no. You gotta be shitting me.” Niall stared down at the dog in disbelief. She had flopped onto her side and was curled up in the warm divot where his body had just been. Her head was propped up on the pillow and her eyes were closed. She looked as if she’d been asleep in that spot for hours.

“Abby, down.” Niall propped his fists on his hips and tried again. “Abby. I said, down!” He threw his hands up and stalked off to the bathroom. “Fine, but when I get out of this shower, you better be outta my spot!”

When Niall finally wandered out of the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, he found his dog sprawled out on her side, snoring softly.

“Un-fuckin’-believable.” He reached down and ran his long fingers through the silky hair on her ears. “C’mon ya lazy bum. You’re the one who woke me up, remember?”

Abby opened her eyes and yawned, stretching all four legs straight up in the air. Her tail thumped happily onto the duvet. Niall couldn’t help but smile down at her and scooped her up like a baby. “You’re lucky it’s my birthday and I’m feeling generous.” He tucked her into his arm and slipped out of the flat to take her for her morning walk.

The morning air was crisp and despite it being slightly overcast, the afternoon forecast was calling for clear blue skies. Niall loved London this time of year, not only because it was his birthday, but because he could wander through the gardens and shops soaking up good weather and good company. Abby had become a fixture, going everywhere with him in town.

She had grown up so much in the last year, her coat filling out to a beautiful white and copper color. After months of special exercises and appointments with the finest vets in greater London her back leg had healed completely. The only shadow of a limp was on cold, rainy days or if she jumped off the furniture too quickly. Niall liked to say she’d finally matured to a “proper lady” and every time he said it Abby would sit a little straighter and wag her tail.

They reached their favorite cafe and Niall tucked himself away at a small table and ordered a tea and a muffin. This was his favorite place to sit - not only because it was easy for him to blend into the background and stay undisturbed, but also because of her. Cate. With a “C”. Not Kate or Katie or Catherine. Just…..Cate. Her grandfather owned the tiny newsstand across from the cafe. A few years ago when he’d had a stroke, Cate began working for him. It was obvious the first time he met her that she knew who he was but she never said a word. Niall appreciated the anonymity but it made it difficult to strike up a conversation with her. Abby had been a saving grace. The first time he’d shown up to buy the morning paper on the way to the cafe with Abby tucked in his arm, Cate had squealed and made grabby hands for her. That was the day they became friends. Well, acquaintances at least but Niall was determined to change that…..one of these days.

Niall sipped his tea and shared part of his muffin with Abby. He figured since it was his birthday he could break his “no table scraps” rule. Just as he slurped down the last of his tea he caught sight of Cate’s dark wavy hair bouncing around the corner. He took a moment to watch her unlock the side door to her tiny stand and start opening the shutters. She was petite but strong, easily hoisting the heavy stacks of morning papers out onto the low display bench. Abby caught sight of her too, pulling at the leash and letting out a whine.

“Gotta be patient, Abs. Can’t just go barrellin’ over there - we’ll look too eager.” Abby stared up at him and plopped her bottom down onto the cement in a huff. Niall rolled his eyes at her and crossed his arms. “Don’t give me that look young lady. What am I supposed to do? Just trot over there and stand around like a twat while she works? Even I’m not that dumb.”

Niall shoved a piece of gum in his mouth and straightened his cap. “Aright, c’mon let’s do this.” Abby immediately jumped up and wagged her tail excitedly. They meandered across the street, Niall trying desperately to look casual. When he reached the small stand Cate looked up and a wide grin spread across her face.

Niall matched her smile and rocked forward on his feet.

“Ello Cate!

“Morning Niall! Happy Birthday!”

Niall felt a warm blush spread across his cheeks and he cocked his head to the side. “How’d ya know it was my birthday?”

Cate rolled her hazel eyes and rested her chin on her hand. Niall couldn’t help but stare at the tiny freckles scattered across her nose. “It was on the radio this morning, ya donut. Grimmy gave you a shout and everything.” She giggled and Niall couldn’t help but laugh along with her. It was the first time she’d actually acknowledged his fame but somehow she managed not to make it awkward. Niall felt a huge sense of relief. Their moment was interrupted when Abby suddenly let out a shrill bark and pawed at Niall’s pant leg.

Cate leaned over the counter and cooed softly. “Ohh sweet girl, I didn’t forget about you.” She reached under the counter and snagged a small biscuit from the tin. Niall picked Abby up and placed her on the stack of papers just under the counter so she was level with Cate. Her tail wagged furiously and she licked her lips impatiently. Cate held out the treat and Abby gently took it from her fingers. Cate scratched her ears and praised her. “Good girl, Abby. So polite!”

An older couple walked up and started perusing the magazines, making Niall feel a little like the third wheel. He put Abby down on the sidewalk and swallowed roughly. “Well, uh, I better let ya get back to it. So….”

Cate stood straight and tucked her hair behind her ear. She nodded shyly and met his gaze. “Yeah, no, of course. Um I hope you have a great birthday! Maybe I’ll see you soon?”

Niall’s heart stuttered in his chest. She sounded, dare he say, hopeful? Like maybe she wanted to see him again? He could’ve sworn he saw the apples of her cheeks turn a light shade of pink as he stared at her. He flashed a warm smile at her and nodded. “Yeah. Absolutely. Count on it.”

Cate turned to her customers and gave a small wave to Niall. Niall held up his hand and then clicked his tongue at Abby. Together they started out on the short walk home. Niall had a spring in his step the entire way back.

“Next time, we ask for her number. Whadda ya say Abs?”

#good girl Abby #niall fluff #my writing #niall imagine

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mighty-mighty-titans-blog · 7 years

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Beruani Month - Day 17

With their baby/babies

The door shattered inward, a hot, sulfurous wind blowing with it. Bertolt cowered, arms shielding his face to little avail. The debris sliced at his hands, his chest, his stomach. When he dared to peek an eye open, he saw that the doorway had grown massive, or else he had shrunk. Two monstrous figures were looming in the frame, blocking the light. They were hideous, terrible things, but he knew them all the same.

“No, please,” he begged weakly, bowing before the wind. “Leave them alone. Not them.”

Something else poked him. Not splintered fragments this time. Something tiny, soft, almost gentle.

“No…” Bertolt mumbled, his eyes cracking open. They stared into tiny mirror images, peeking over the edge of the bed. Those little eyes like his—muted green, downturned, and somber as a bloodhound—were glistening with unshed tears.

“Sonya,” Bertolt whispered, blinking away the vestiges of his nightmare. He reached an arm out from beneath the threadbare blanket, brushing a large hand over her tangle of black hair. He recognized the problem. It seemed father and daughter were alike in more than looks. “Bad dream?” he asked, tapping her on the head then pointing to her watering eyes.

The little girl nodded her head, clutching a patchy, button-eyed doll closer to her chest.

With no hesitation, Bertolt scooted backwards in the bed as much as he could. He couldn’t go far. The bed was already narrow, and he didn’t want to disturb the other occupants. He shot a glance over his shoulder to where his wife and infant son slept. Annie was still dead to the world, her blonde hair splayed out around her like a wispy halo. Frederick was curled up on her torso, head pillowed on her breast and Annie’s left hand cradling his back, securing him in place. Neither of them seemed to have been roused by the movement.

“Come on,” Bertolt said, holding up the blanket and tapping the empty spot.

Sonya wasted not a moment, clambering onto the squeaking mattress and burrowing into his chest. Bertolt tucked her in, bundling them in tight. As his daughter snuggled up, clinging to his shirt and sniffling, Bertolt was almost grateful. His child needed him, if only as something to hold onto. She looked to him for strength and protection. If he focused on doing that for her, he could forget for at least a little while that he was just as scared and helpless as she in the face of his own nightmares.

He settled back into the pillow, stroking a hand up and down her back. He kept it up until both of them were sleeping again.

The whole family woke simultaneously to early morning sunlight peeping through the window and Frederick’s whimpering cries to be fed.

“At least he waited until a decent hour,” Annie mumbled as she sat up.

“I can get breakfast started if you want,” Bertolt offered. There were shadows under his wife’s normally sharp eyes. “I don’t have a morning shift at the factory today.”

“Thanks.”

Bertolt picked his way out of the bed. “Come on, Sonya,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll heat up some milk for you.” He mimed holding and drinking a glass. As Sonya wiggled her way out from below the blankets, Bertolt leaned over and snagged his cane from where it was propped against the wall.

Father and daughter descended the steep, rickety stairwell, Bertolt hobbling with caution and Sonya hopping down in the playful way children do, down to the combined kitchen and dining area that made up the bottom floor of their home. Sonya, clearing the last step with a froggy little bound, began trotting for the door.

“Sonya, wait!” Bertolt sped up, catching her before she could latch onto the doorknob. “How many times do I have to remind you?” He pulled her aside. Fetching what he needed from one of the kitchen drawers, he knelt as best he could and tied the red and gold armband securely around her left bicep. “No going beyond the porch,” he ordered, pointing at the door. “You’re still in your sleep clothes.”

She nodded, black hair falling in front of her eyes, then she was off to watch the sun brighten the day. Bertolt blew out a breath. His pounding heart began to settle again.

He’d started up the porridge and sliced a loaf of bread by the time Annie joined him, the baby perched on her hip. “He’s going to be as big as you one day with how much he eats,” she complained sleepily.

“Freddie’s a growing boy.” Bertolt spared a soft smile, reaching over to brush a finger over the little boy’s plump cheek. His big blue eyes widened even further and he made grabby hands at his father.

“Well, I look forward to the day he uses food that doesn’t come from me.” Annie peered around, noticing that the front door was slightly cracked. “Sonya went outside?” she asked, an edge in her tone.

“Just to the porch. I made sure she had her armband on.”

The loose drape of Annie’s nightgown didn’t hide the tension that pulled her shoulders taut. Freddie burbled nervously, sensing her mood. “I don’t like her going outside by herself.”

Bertolt stirred the porridge morosely. “To be honest, neither do I. But we can’t always be watching her, and I don’t like cooping her up inside. We can at least let her as far as the door, can’t we?”

Annie didn’t answer him. She carefully placed Freddie on the ground and then headed for the door herself. The little boy looked suddenly lost, and he turned to stare up at the towering figure of his father with almost questioning eyes. Bertolt sighed. “She’ll be back in a second,” he said wearily.

He predicted rightly, Annie returning just a minute later with their daughter in tow. Sonya’s expression was sulky and downtrodden, but she made no noise of protest. “Breakfast,” Annie said shortly, ushering Sonya into a seat and fetching Freddie back into his usual place in her arms. Bertolt pulled the pot from the stove and began to serve.

The family of four ate in silence, aside from the clink of spoons against their dishes and the sucking noises Freddie had a habit of making when he was bored. Eventually, Annie put in with, “So what’s going on with the dropped morning shift?”

Bertolt shrugged. “Some kind of mishap with the machinery. Most of the others got transferred into roadwork so as not to waste labor, but I can’t really manage that kind of thing.” He tapped his cane. “I’m sure it’ll be up and running again tomorrow.”

“And if it isn’t we’ll be living hand to mouth again,” she commented. The tone was bland, but the white-knuckled grip on her spoon betrayed that she was seething.

Bertolt ducked his head, an upwelling of shame and frustration with himself boiling in his gut. “I’m sorry, Annie. It’s not right that everything has to fall on you when stuff like this happens.” His hand gripped at his right knee. He had learned to live with his condition a long time ago, but the pain in his leg was an ever-constant reminder that he fell short as both a provider and partner.

“Don’t.” The command was biting. “It is what it is, and I knew the situation when we chose to be together. Hating yourself over it isn’t going to change anything.”

She was right of course. He forced himself to stop his wallowing before it really got underway. “Yeah. Besides,” he added on with mustered confidence, “If things aren’t back to normal soon then I’ll look for something else, something temporary.” It was a more difficult task than it sounded. Eldians had a hard enough time; being crippled on top of it doubled the effort required to find work that could support a family.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Annie replied. “Sonya, wipe your face.”

Sonya blinked, staring with eyebrows scrunched. Annie sighed deeply, miming swiping something from her lips and cheeks. Only then did Sonya do what her mother told her to do and rubbed away her milk mustache.

This was a fairly normal occurrence, and Bertolt wouldn’t have thought much of it if he hadn’t been looking at Annie at the exact right moment. It was a micro-expression, there and gone in a second, but for that brief second Bertolt was shocked to see his wife’s face, so normally cool and controlled, contort with rage and even worse, anguish.

“Annie…” he began tentatively.

“I have to get dressed,” she cut him off, standing abruptly. She dumped Freddie on his lap. “Since you don’t have work, you can watch them this morning. Freddie needs a bath.” She jogged up the stairs and shut the door of their bedroom before he could get another word in.

Knowing the conversation would be shut down immediately if he tried again, Bertolt did as she asked. He couldn’t leave Freddie alone, but he couldn’t carry bathwater back from the pump while using a cane and holding the baby. Instead, he had to nestle the boy into a fashioned pouch and sling it across his back. Freddie gurgled happily. He always liked riding on Bertolt’s back, probably because of the view.

Bertolt made sure his own red and gold armband was secured around his bicep, collected the water pail from the corner, and tapped Sonya on the head as she sat on the floor playing with her doll. “Come on.” He nodded toward the door. She jumped up, and Bertolt and his two children exited their little house into the streets of Liberio.

Despite the sun, the autumn air fell just on the wrong side of chilling. Bertolt shivered, but they couldn’t go any faster than a slow amble with him limping along on his cane and his own insistence on Sonya keeping ahold of him. Luckily the pump wasn’t too far.

“Hey, Bertolt!” a voice called out.

Bertolt felt his stomach flip unpleasantly as the one who’d called out to him came jogging up. He offered up an amiable smile nonetheless. “Morning, Mr. Braun,” he greeted as the older man came up to him, bundled against the chill and grinning pleasantly. “How’s Reiner doing?” he asked in the manner of polite small talk. Actually, he’d been wanting to know the answer to that question for a while now, but could never find the time to go over and inquire personally.

Mr. Braun waved his hand absently. His smile had shrunk a fair bit. “Oh, my nephew is how he usually is. Back to work finally, but we’ll see how long it lasts.” The tone was unabashedly dismissive, and the man moved on with obvious desire to address a different subject. “But look here, my boy! Breaking news,” he declared. A newspaper was shoved in front of Bertolt’s nose. One skim of the headline dropped a stone into the pit of his stomach.

ARMORED TITAN AND FEMALE TITAN RETURN FROM THE PARADISE FRONT.

“Lucy Eckhardt and Beth Hornby, chosen Eldian recipients of the Armored and Female Titans by the Marleyan National Military, have been extracted from the long-term Paradise Island mission and returned to the Mainland. According to military sources, the mission has been reported as a failure. Todd Freilicher and Prosper Lomar, the recipients of the Colossal and Jaw Titans, also dispatched five years ago, have been reported MIA. A military tribunal has been called to determine the fates of the retrieved Warriors…”

Bertolt had to stop. The storm of nausea in his gut was growing unbearable.

“Frustrating times,” Mr. Braun said, shaking his head. “I don’t imagine those warriors will be spared, given their failure.” He sighed, before he grunted in wry amusement. “It’s a shame about your girl,” he said, waving a hand toward Sonya. She was still clinging onto Bertolt’s pant leg, staring up with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “If she’d been born normal, she’d be just about the right age to become a warrior. She’s five now, right?”

Bertolt’s throat had gone dry and he fought to keep a quiver of rage out of it. “Y-Yes. She turned five last month.” He placed a hand on her head, shifting her ever so slightly away from the other man.

“Ah well. Your family still has a shot. I’m betting that boy of yours will grow up strong and healthy.” Braun grinned broadly, reaching out to ruffle the dark tuft of hair on Frederick’s head. “Won’t you, kiddo?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Braun.” Bertolt almost didn’t care that the words were all but spat out. “I have to get going. Have a nice day.” He shouldered past, hurrying as much as he could on his cane. Shifting the water pail back on his arm, he reached down and clutched Sonya’s tiny fist in his free hand. He hoped she wouldn’t notice it tremble.

Bertolt’s mouth was open to sound out a “We’re back,” but it was proven unnecessary. Annie was dressed and sitting at the kitchen table. Laid out in front of her was a newspaper, bearing the same headline Bertolt had just seen.

Bertolt knew automatically that something was wrong. The set of his wife’s shoulders, her bowed head, the way the loose tresses of her hair hung forward and shadowed her eyes were all major tells.

He turned to Sonya. “Go upstairs, sweetheart,” he murmured, pointing. For a moment, their matching eyes met, and Bertolt perceived that periodic, razor-sharp perceptiveness all children are capable of. She knew just as well as he that something was going on, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand it yet. Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from his. He watched her trundle up the stairs until the door to her closet-sized bedroom shut behind her.

Bertolt approached Annie cautiously. The room was painfully silent, with Freddie fallen into a blissful slumber against Bertolt’s shoulder blades.

“Annie,” he whispered, sliding into the chair across from her.

“Give Freddie to me.”

Bertolt blinked. “What?”

“Give him here, Bertl.”

Moving with uncertainty, Bertolt undid the knot fastening the baby sling, cradled the sleeping Freddie gently, and then passed him to his mother.

Annie snatched him as if from the jaws of a rabid dog. Pressing him close, she seemed to curl in around him, harsh breaths blasting from her nostrils. He finally caught a glimpse of her face behind the curtain of her hair. She was as pale as bone, and her eyes pierced like daggers of ice.

“It’s all starting over.” Her voice was a wisp, ghostly and cold. “It’s all going to happen again.” She clutched Freddie even closer. The baby let out an unconscious whimper.

Bertolt’s heart began beating rapidly. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to reassure her. “It’ll be all right. It’s not starting over. You and I knew that from the very beginning. We would never put them into that program.”

“Bullshit it’ll be all right!” she snarled. “How much do you really think it matters, Bertolt, what we want? You know how those bastards are. It’s all voluntary until they hear of someone promising. And they always hear. Snakes all around us, informing them.” Her eyes were approaching wildness, and Bertolt was on the verge of taking Freddie away from her. “Then they’ll come knocking at our door, and they won’t let us say no.” Her gaze fell to their sleeping son locked in her arms. That animal fury seemed to drain away, leaving an emptiness that was even worse. Almost unconsciously, she pressed a light kiss to the whirl of dark hair crowning the baby’s head. Bertolt stared, lost for words.

“I hope they kill those girls.”

Bertolt lurched back. “What?!” he gasped.

Annie peered up at him through her fringe. Her gaze was hollow. “I know it makes me a monster to even think it, but it’s true. If the tribunal decides those warriors have outlived their usefulness, their powers will be passed on immediately. Then that gives us thirteen years, Bertolt. Thirteen years and Freddie will be past the age limit. He’d be safe.”

For the second time that day, Bertolt felt his heart drop toward his toes. She was right. If Lucy Eckhardt and Beth Hornby were deemed unworthy of their titans, a new pair would be chosen. There would still be warrior training, but the urgency of a shifter’s deadline would be removed. The Marleyans wouldn’t be on such a pressured hunt for the right candidate. It was as close to home-free as they would ever get.

God, he agreed with her. He despised himself for it, but he knew it was true. His thoughts turned to the nightmare that had visited him the previous night. Two giant, terrifying figures looming over him. His children, his babies, wrapped up in those monstrous flesh avatars, doomed to lives as weapons of war. If it came down to his children and those girls… there was no contest.

He swallowed, hard. “We… Nothing’s certain yet. Even if they’re allowed to live, Freddie’s not even a year old yet. He’d only have reached new cadet status by the time their tenures were up. They would pick someone else, surely.”

Annie’s head shook, slowly and sinisterly. “No. It would be him. I just know it.” Her jaw clenched, and suddenly she seemed a million miles away. Not even really talking to him anymore. “I feel it all the time, somehow. That we eluded fate, cheated it. Something like that. I see news about these warriors and something in my gut tells me ‘That should have been you.’ It haunts me every day. It’ll come back for its due, for Freddie. I just know it.”

When he saw the glisten of tears in her empty eyes, Bertolt was finally shaken into action. He rounded the table to kneel at her side, ignoring the shooting pain in his leg and the moisture gathering at the corners of his own eyes. He still didn’t have the words, his chronic failure, but he could hold her and their son.

“What kind of world is it,” Annie whispered, “that would make me wish death on those girls?” She turned, pinning him beneath her stare, one that demanded a genuine answer. “What kind of world is it that makes me glad every day that you caught the crippling sickness when you were young? That made us almost cry with joy when we found out Sonya was deaf? That made me think this was necessary to escape life as a warrior?” She brandished her arm. The sleeve had pulled up to reveal a crisscross of silver scars running up the inside. “And it turns out I was right? What kind of world is that, Bertolt?”

He wished he had something better to say, something that could comfort or rally, but he didn’t. All he had was blunt, unforgiving honesty.

“A cruel one,” he murmured.

The nails of one of her hands carved furrows into the tabletop. The other cuddled little Freddie ever closer. He slept on, oblivious and drooling.

“They won’t get him,” she swore. “I don’t care if they come to our door with the whole army and all nine of their damn titans. I’ll cut them all down myself if I have to. They won’t get him. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

It was a more frightening vow than any she could have made. How far would either of them go, in the end, to keep their son from becoming a warrior? Would they risk everything to flee? Would they defy their masters? Would they even do to Freddie what had gotten them free of that life - Annie’s self-harm, Bertolt’s crippling, or even Reiner’s complete breakdown from stress?

It would still be better than life as one of their pawns.

The kiss he caught her in was not meant to comfort. It was rough and hard and swift. It was a vow of his own.

“I’ll take half if you take the others,” he promised. “Even if it’s the two of us against the whole damn world, I’m with you.”

This time she initiated the kiss. Still harsh, but it was deeper, and it sparked. Sealing the deal. Them against the world.

They couldn’t win. How could they? But at least their children would know what they had wanted, would know that their parents would fight for them, even if hope was nothing more than a distant dream.

When Bertolt pulled away, he caught sight of Sonya crouched at the top of the stairs, peering down between the bannister slats.

Bertolt would burn down the world for his family. He knew that without a doubt. But even on the heels of that vow, he longed for something different. In his most private imaginings, he dreamed of spiriting them all away from this, from the persecution and submission and constant fear. He dreamed they would find a place hidden away in the mountains, someplace just for them, where his daughter and son could grow and play without borders, where he and Annie could love each other without burden.

He wanted to give them sunlight, green grass, little rivers, blooming woodlands, and sunrises over a snow-capped mountain range. He didn’t want to give them ashes.

Someone, he begged, though no one was listening, Someone, please find us.

#beruani #beruani month #BeruaniMonth #fic

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