First drabble, featuring Rivaille and his baby daughter.
I decided to move all the drabbles together and post them under the same title, instead of posting them as separate stories. Hope you enjoy them~ If you have any requests, just send a PM or leave a review :)
Chapter 1: Papa Rivaille
Rivaille, proud soldier, dedicated to the army, loyal to his cause. Rivaille, harsh corporal under who's firm glare no soldier even dares to flinch. Rivaille, the strongest fighter the army has, the shiniest ray of hope humanity has seen, the man who has the most capable hands in commander Erwin's troops. Both when it comes to combat against evil, as we'll as combat against dirt.
Corporal Rivaille has a free day from work.
And, without failing his reputation, his house is as spotless as his performance. Proud to have finished cleaning even unseen specks of dirt from the kitchen – his kitchen, the very same kitchen he procures his food from, so he can't have it any other way – he walks away, heading to the exit at the end of the hallway. A good breath of fresh air had always been welcomed.
It is not like he enjoys cleaning. He doesn't, in fact. What he enjoys is feeling clean, having every single object around him spotless. And that is a hard task, particularly because kids aren't the most clean creatures one can have around.
Heading to the door, he can't help casting a glance in each room he passes by. Each room he had cleaned only a bit earlier. Passing by his daughter's room – his four years old daughter, one kid that can perfectly fit into that category of "not very clean, or not clean at all" – his eyes widen for a split second, as slight anger is stirred inside him by the mere image of his daughter's huge toy container fallen over, with its contents scattered around the room. Around the previously clean room. The horror. He sighs, however, and enters the room to see his daughter sleeping soundly on the floor, the upper half of her body hidden under the bed.
He sighs louder, once again. He kneels down on the colored carpet, and starts sorting out the toys, putting them back together and in place. He couldn't imagine kids need that many toys. He can even bet his daughter wouldn't even notice the absence of half the toys in that box. Sorting through them, he notices some horses - reminding himself, almost with a smile on his face – almost, because he is Corporal Rivaille – that his daughter loves horses. Pink, black, brown, white toy horses. With thick manes and long tails. All of them braided – his baby girl has just learned how to braid. He scowls at the sight of messy artificial hair, tangled and untidy. Without a second thought, he grabs his daughter's toy brush, and starts grooming the horses – all of them, because he can't do only half of the job. Because he is Corporal Rivaille.
Caught in his job, because he always fulfills his duty with so much focus and dedication, never failing, he doesn't notice his daughter pulling herself out of under her bed, and staring at her father who is sitting, cross-legged, on an orange-pink carpet with blue flowers, brushing her horses with much dedication and care.
"What are you doing, daddy?"
The cute mumble makes his entire body go stiff.