Vendetta543

Jaune Musuo - Chapter 1 of 2

Remember that oneshot where Jaune was a genre savvy guy who just wanted to survive as an Extra? Well, here's one where Jaune is a mook in a Musuou genre world where the Huntsmen are tge heroes. It's not fun.

Part 1 of 2.

[line break]

Another day, another beating.

Jaune stood among the ranks of the militia, clad in the same cheap armor and standard-issue sword as the thousands of other unfortunate souls around him. The air was thick with dust and tension, but mostly? It was filled with despair despair. Today, they were to engage in yet another hopeless battle, the kind where strategy, numbers, and even basic physics would mean absolutely nothing. A battle that would end with them all nursing bruises, broken bones, and shattered egos.

Their captain - a grizzled veteran who had somehow survived multiple battles against the invincible 'heroes' of Remnant, though certainly not with his sanity intact - raised his sword, "Hold steady, men! Remember, they bleed just like- "

He never got to finish.

A deafening shockwave blasted through the air, and just like that, the first wave of militia was sent flying. Jaune didn't even need to see what caused it. He already knew. Everyone already knew.

The Huntresses had arrived.

One in particular stood at the center of the battlefield, grinning like she'd already won - which, of course, she had. Long golden hair framed a face of unshakable confidence, and her absurdly small outfit - a bomber jacket, a scarf, tubetop, and shorts - was a mockery to every soldier present. She had no armor, no shield, nothing but a pair of gauntlets that barely even looked like weapons. And yet they all knew she was about to lay waste to a thousand men.

This wasn't a war. It was a workout.

"Who's up for a warm-up?" she called, cracking her knuckles, as if she wasn't already on fire. Literally. Her hair was on fire, because of course it was.

Jaune swallowed thickly. This was so unfair.

She moved. No, moved wasn't the right word. She exploded into their ranks. A single punch created another concussive blast, sending men tumbling through the air like discarded ragdolls. Jaune barely dodged a fully grown man as he was launched over his head, screaming all the way down.

And that was just the first attack.

Another swing. Another dozen men sent flying. Somewhere in the chaos, the captain - an actual trained soldier, mind - let out a battle cry and charged. A brave, stupid move. She sidestepped the attack easily, caught his sword between her bare fingers, and flicked him aside like he was nothing more than a particularly aggressive mosquito, grinning the entire time.

Jaune watched the man disappear into the sky. He was pretty sure he heard him scream all the way into orbit, "This is ridiculous," Jaune muttered, backpedaling, "She's one person! One person!" He knew that numbers didn't matter in this world, but he still felt compelled to shout at the absurdity and unfairness of it. The Huntress turned toward him, mouth curled up in a cocky grin. Jaune immediately raised his shield, as if that would help.

It didn't. At all.

She planted a foot against his shield and 'gently' kicked. Jaune flew backward, collided with five other men, and groaned as he hit the ground in a heap of misery. Before he could even attempt to crawl away, a second Huntress arrived.

Jaune groaned in dismay. Not her. She was an entirely different kind of absurd. Short, regal, and dressed like she had just come from a ballroom rather than a battlefield, the white-haired woman twirled her ornate rapier, barely sparing a glance at the chaos around her. She looked like she belonged more in a ballroom than a battlefield, but he knew from experience that she could take out an army before her tea break.

"Honestly," she sighed, looking at the downed militia in disdain, "Was that really the best you could muster?"

"No," Jaune grumbled, dragging himself to his feet, "We're just militia, not Huntsmen. This isn't a fair fight."

She scoffed, flicking a lock of hair over her shoulder, "You're lucky my boots are too pristine to step on you."

And then? Ice.

Jaune barely had time to react before the entire battlefield was transformed into a frozen wasteland. He slipped immediately, barely catching himself before toppling over completely. All around him, the rest of the militia fared even worse. Soldiers skidded and crashed into each other in a tangled mess of limbs and confusion. The Huntress? Oh, she skated across the battlefield effortlessly, weaving between flailing men with precision. With each flick of her rapier, another unfortunate soldier was sent sprawling, colliding into his comrades like some humiliating game of bowling.

Jaune groaned, "This sucks." The worst part? No one actually died, so they were denied the sweet release of death. No matter how hard the Huntsmen hit them, they always got back up. It was like some unspoken rule of reality that no matter how many times they got flung, slammed, or buried under a pile of broken weapons and shattered morale, they'd just...groan, complain, and get up for the next battle. Then it happened again, and again, and again. Death eluded them.

Even when the one with the flaming hair did that thing where she grabbed one guy by the ankle and started swinging him like a flail, knocking out whole squads with the sheer audacity of it.

Jaune thought that maybe today couldn't get any worse when a blur of red zipped across the battlefield. He barely had time to register the third Huntress before she materialized in front of the other two. Unlike them, she had an almost childlike enthusiasm, bouncing on her heels as she gripped a scythe that was taller than she was, "Whoa! Nice work, Ice Queen!" she chirped, spinning her weapon with absolutely unnecessary flair, "But don't you think freezing the whole battlefield kinda makes it hard to style on these guys?"

Jaune was offended, "Style on us?!" he yelled, dodging yet another airborne soldier. He'd been in the militia for a couple years now. Yeah, they got beat up, but there was a professionalism to it before. Now? Now you had Huntsmen who seemed to make it their life mission to make them as miserable as possible.

"This isn't a fashion contest, Ruby!" the rapier-wielding Huntress snapped at her.

"Yeah, but if it was, you'd totally lose."

The air got even colder. Jaune, at this point, was very much aware that they were about to fight each other. They weren't even acknowledging the militia anymore. They were too busy squabbling. That was what they were to them. Just background noise and score.

"Oh, you wanna go?" the rapier-wielder hissed.

The scythe-wielder grinned, "Bring it, princess."

Chaos erupted. Jaune didn't even get a chance to react before the two of them shot into motion. The scythe-wielder moved faster than humanly possible, appearing behind her opponent in a flash of red. The other Huntress spun, countering with an elegant pirouette, her rapier striking with pinpoint accuracy.

Except...instead of attacking each other, their movements somehow managed to direct their attacks toward the remaining militia. One scythe swing sent a dozen men flying. A rapier strike created a shockwave that toppled an entire platoon. They weren't even trying to fight the militia anymore. It was just happening as a byproduct of their ridiculous speed.

Jaune found himself airborne again as the scythe-wielder used him as a springboard, slamming him to to the ground, "She used me as a platform..." he groaned, "Ugh...I hate this job!"

Somewhere behind him, the blonde one cracked her knuckles again, "Well, looks like Round Two's about to start," she said, flexing her fingers as the air around her seemed to ignite. The battlefield filled with groans, whimpers, and the collective resignation of every single militia man present.

[line break]

Jaune lay sprawled on the cold, unforgiving ground, staring up at the sky, his limbs aching from yet another brutal, one-sided beatdown. Around him, the rest of the militia groaned in a collective symphony of pain, bruised bodies struggling to rise from the frozen battlefield. Weapons were scattered, helmets knocked off, shields dented beyond repair - not that they had done much good anyway. They might as well have gone into battle naked for all the good their 'armor' did them.

Somewhere to his left, Carl was face-down in a pile of other unfortunate soldiers, barely twitching. To his right, Greg was mumbling something about early retirement, his gauntlets still comically frozen to his shield.

Jaune had given up trying to move. What was even the point? Above him, completely unbothered by the destruction they had wrought, the three Huntresses stood in a neat little trio, comparing scores like this was some kind of weekend game and not an absolute catastrophe for the poor fools who had just been flattened, "I definitely got the most kills," the blonde one boasted, flexing her muscular arms with a self-satisfied grin, "Come on, be honest. No way either of you kept up with me."

"Kills?! We don't even die!" Jaune groaned weakly from the ground.

The scythe-wielder frowned, tapping her chin in thought, "Mmm, I dunno. I think I had more style points. Did you see that air combo I did? Textbook sick moves!" She twirled her scythe. Jaune closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Why was this even a conversation? And did they have to have it here?

"I prefer precision over reckless brutality," the white-haired Huntress interjected, crossing her arms, "Every single one of my strikes was perfectly calculated. No wasted movement, no unnecessary force."

"You froze the entire battlefield!" the blonde one pointed out, waving her hands.

"So what?" The white-haired one sniffed, tilting her nose up, "My victory was the most elegant."

"Oh, so you're saying I wasn't elegant?" the scythe-wielder gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense.

"I'm saying brute force and 'styling' isn't the proper way to do things," the rapier-wielder scoffed.

The blonde huffed, crossing her arms, "Alright, well, if we're keeping score, then I totally get bonus points for flair. You know how many of these guys went airborne thanks to me? I was launching them like fireworks!"

The cloaked Huntresses' eyes sparkled, "Ooooh, we should totally rate air time next time!"

Next time?! Jaune's head shot up from the ground. He knew there'd be a next time, of course - there was always a next time - but the eagerness the cloaked Huntress said it brought a chill down his spine.

As if noticing the groaning militia for the first time, the blonde Huntress clapped her hands together and gave a casual thumbs-up, "Good work, boys! You really took a beating out there."

The scythe-wielder gave a sheepish grin, "Uh, yeah. Sorry about all the, y'know...smacking, flinging, punting, slamming, freezing, and whatever. But hey, that's your job, right?"

"So unfair..." Jaune grumbled, flopping back down.

"Hey, you'll walk it off!" the blonde one laughed, giving a casual wave as she turned, "Alright, who's up for lunch? I worked up an appetite!"

Jaune didn't move. He couldn't. Not just from exhaustion, but from sheer apathy. They had wiped out an entire militia, trounced thousands of men without breaking a sweat, and now they were just going to get lunch? He hated being born a mook.

After what felt like an eternity of pain, humiliation, and the complete destruction of his self-worth, Jaune finally dragged himself to his feet, wobbling slightly as he dusted off what little remained of his dignity. Around him, his fellow militia grunts groaned and limped away, some cradling their helmets, others rubbing bruises that would no doubt last for weeks. This was their life. Show up, beat up, repeat. They never won. They never even tied. It was always a loss.

And what was their reward for enduring an entire afternoon of getting pounded into the dirt by impossibly overpowered Huntresses?

Jaune stepped forward, reaching the designated payout officer, a tired-looking old man at the edge of the battlefield who barely even acknowledged him before slapping a small, very underwhelming slip of Lien into his hands.

He opened it, counting quickly just to make sure he wasn't somehow being shorted. Fifty Lien. That was it. Fifty miserable, worthless Lien.

Jaune clenched the envelope in his fist, staring at it like it had personally insulted him. Fifty Lien for getting tossed around like a living bowling pin. Fifty Lien for being an unpaid crash-test dummy against Huntresses who didn't even acknowledge their opponents as threats, just inconveniences that needed to be swept aside with a few flashy combos. They always said they'd get more if they somehow won, but they all knew that was bullshit. Mooks never won.

Somewhere in the distance, he could still hear them chatting as they walked off, unharmed, unbothered, and rich, "Did you see how much they paid us this time?" the blonde one laughed, tossing a heavy sack of Lien up and down with one hand like it weighed nothing.

"I'm still counting," the scythe-wielder giggled, flipping through a thick stack of bills, her eyes practically sparkling at the sheer thickness of it, "I don't even think I can fit all of this in my wallet!"

The white-haired one huffed, "Of course we're getting paid well. We are Huntresses. That was hardly even a challenge."

Jaune's eye twitched. It was bullshit. How much were they even getting for this nonsense? Thousands of Lien, easily. Tens of thousands, even. Meanwhile, he was holding his pathetic little fifty Lien like a dog being given a treat..

Fifty Lien for getting slammed into the ground at Mach speed.

Fifty Lien for being used as a human trampoline.

Fifty Lien for being flung halfway across the battlefield by an uppercut that probably broke the sound barrier.

He looked down at his tiny, utterly insignificant slip of cards then back at the Huntresses and their fat stacks of Lien. It took everything he had to not fling the cards away in a rage. No, he told himself. He needed this. It was small, but it meant living another day...even if sometimes (a lot of the time) he doubted why he fought so hard to survive.

[line break ]

Just when Jaune thought the suffering was finally over and he could limp off to spend his miserable fifty Lien on the cheapest drink he could find...she arrived.

A soft thud landed behind him, and Jaune felt a very distinct chill run down his spine. He wasn't alone. He could feel it...and judging by the audible whimpering from the rest of the battered militia, they knew it too.

Slowly, painfully, he turned around. Standing at the edge of the battlefield, arms crossed, a single hip cocked to the side in effortless confidence, was another Huntress. Dark hair, golden eyes, and feline ears perched atop her head, twitching ever so slightly. She held a black sword in her right hand and had the distinct aura (metaphysical, not literal) of someone who was mildly annoyed to even be here.

Jaune felt his stomach drop. Oh no, "Sorry I'm late," the cat-eared Huntress said in a tone that made it clear she wasn't sorry in the least, "Had some things to take care of." The entire militia - every single last bruised, battered, and emotionally scarred soldier - collectively whimpered. She blinked, "...What's wrong with all of you?"

Jaune weakly raised a hand, "Uh...the fight's over."

She frowned, "No, it's not. I haven't fought yet."

Jaune felt his soul leave his body, "I...I think the other three already, um, handled it," he tried, gesturing weakly at the battlefield of groaning, half-conscious men behind him.

The catgirl glanced around at the devastation. Piles of armor, weapons, and shields lay scattered across the frozen battlefield. Soldiers still weren't getting up. Some had just accepted their fate and were lying in the dirt like discarded props in some action film. Her amber eyes narrowed. Then, without hesitation or sympathy, she unsheathed her sword, "Well, too bad," she said, tone as casual as if she were commenting on the weather, "I'm here now, so we're doing this."

A new wave of pained, defeated groans rippled through the militia. A few men actually fell back down after hearing those words, as if their bodies simply rejected the thought of enduring another round of absolute Huntress domination.

Jaune, for his part, was having none of it, "You're kidding, right?" he asked, fully prepared to throw his sword down and run.

The catgirl raised a single unimpressed eyebrow, "No?"

"But we already-"

She sighed, exasperated, "Can you hurry up? I have a novel to get back to."

Jaune's eye twitched. She had a novel to get back to. She was about to trounce an entire army of men who had already been through too much just to keep her schedule clear for reading. The rest of the militia, already on the verge of collapse, let out a weak, collective groan of utter despair.

He stared at the cat-eared Huntress in front of him, then down at the bruises on his arms, then back at the tiny, worthless, humiliating bag of fifty Lien in his hand. Fifty lien for the day, cause he knew damn well he wouldn't get any overtime for this while the Huntress would get a few thousand just wailing on people who had no chance of fighting her.

No. Nope. He was done.

Without hesitation, he ripped off his helmet and chucked it into the dirt, "I quit," he said.

The Huntress - who was apparently expecting anything but that - blinked, her ears twitching slightly in confusion, "What?"

Jaune crossed his arms, "I quit. I'm done. I am not doing this anymore."

A beat of silence followed. The soldiers looked at him in shock and awe. No one had ever QUIT before. It just didn't happen. Once you were picked to be a mook, you were in it for life. Or at least, that was how it was supposed to be. They whined, they cried, they screamed, but they always came back for more.

Not this time.

"...You can't do that," she said.

Jaune narrowed his eyes, "Watch me." And with that, he turned on his heel and walked off the battlefield like a man who had just seen the light. The other mooks continued to look at him in awe, as if expecting a bolt of divine retribution to come down and smite him for daring to go against the natural order.

But nothing happened, and Jaune stepped past the edge of the battlefield with nothing and no one stopping him.

There was another pause. And then-

More helmets hit the ground, a cacophany of metal crashing against dirt, "I quit too!" someone else shouted.

"Yeah, screw this!"

"I'm not getting my spine turned into origami for fifty Lien!"

"I still can't feel my legs!"

Within seconds, the entire militia followed Jaune's lead, ripping off their helmets, throwing down their weapons, and marching off the battlefield in a wave of exhausted defiance. The Huntress blinked again, watching as her entire enemy force/money source collectively noped out of the battle. Jaune kept his head held high, feeling better than he had in years. He'd done it. He'd quit this horrible job. He didn't care if he had to beg on the streets, it was better than whatever this was.

Across the field, the RWY of team RWBY turned back just in time to see the mass exodus of militiamen leaving the battlefield, "Did they just..." Ruby started, tilting her head.

"Wow," Yang whistled, "That's a new one."

Weiss huffed, flipping her ponytail, "Pathetic."

Meanwhile, Blake just stood there, watching as her supposed opponents literally quit their jobs rather than fight her. She sighed, sheathed her sword, and muttered, "Guess I'll finish my book early."

[line break]

It started with a few scattered resignations; a handful of militia men deciding that getting launched into the stratosphere by flaming gauntlets, frozen solid by impossible Dust sorcery, or turned into a human springboard for hyperactive scythe-wielders just wasn't worth the insultingly small paycheck they received for their troubles. But like a single spark in a dry forest, Jaune's very public and very justified declaration of "I quit" spread faster than anyone could have anticipated, igniting a mass exodus of the long-abused moooks who had accepted their role as punching bags for the overpowered demigods known as Huntsmen for far too long.

At first, no one took it seriously, especially not the Huntsmen, who were too busy celebrating another effortless victory. They were still focused on counting their excessive earnings and laughing over how absurdly lopsided every fight in their favor had been. They'll be back, they said, and even if they weren't, there was always more goons to fight.

But soon, the murmurs turned into full-fledged desertions, the ranks of milita men thinning at an alarming rate as men who had once grimly accepted their fate as training dummies threw down their weapons and walked off the battlefield without so much as a glance back. Their loyalty to their respective causes paled in comparison to the realization that they were literally volunteering for free beatdowns with no hope of victory against the Huntsmen who only saw them as walking bags of experience points and easy paychecks.

By the time word had fully spread across Remnant, the numbers were staggering.

Entire militias disbanded overnight with whole regiments of would-be soldiers deciding "fuck that noise". Their captains and commanders (who incidentall were paid more) screamed and pleaded for them to reconsider while the soldiers - many of whom were still nursing broken ribs from the last time a blonde fire-punching lunatic had decided to 'train' on them - simply laughed and walked away, their fifty Lien severance pay jingling in their pockets as they vanished into the countryside in search of literally anything that didn't involve getting drop-kicked across an open field.

At first, the Huntsmen barely noticed. It wasn't uncommon for soldiers to flee - not everyone had the stomach to stand against godlike warriors with absurd powers and completely impractical (yet somehow incredibly functional) weapons - but the problem wasn't that soldiers were fleeing mid-battle, the problem was that there were suddenly no soldiers at all.

For the first time ever, Huntsmen showed up to contracted fights, bounty missions, and field operations only to find that there was no enemy to fight, no hapless grunts to obliterate, no conveniently placed weaklings to rack up their experience points against. All that waited for them were the empty remnants of hastily abandoned militia camps, discarded swords stuck in the ground like grave markers. Entire fortresses were left empty, the only thing greeting them being the eerie silence of a workforce that had collectively decided that no amount of money, honor, or duty was worth getting flash-frozen by an heiress with a superiority complex.

And it was all thanks to one man: Jaune Arc. The one who made them understand that they could just fucking quit.

The realization hit them all at once, spreading through the ranks of Huntsmen like a plague of anxiety and desperation. Their once endless supply of easily farmable mooks was now an endangered species thanks to one blond militia man with a spine and a very, very loud voice.

"This is a disaster!" one Huntress wailed, throwing her hands up as she paced back and forth in front of her baffled teammates, "How are we supposed to make money if there's no one to fight?!"

"This is so unfair!" another pouted, crossing her arms and kicking at the dirt like a child denied a toy, "I had a whole combo planned out for this next battle, and now I don't even get to use it!"

"I was this close to leveling up!" a third groaned, staring mournfully at his unused weapon, "I even grinded extra last week! This isn't how this is supposed to work!"

Team RWBY had noticed too, of course.

Yang, normally the very picture of confidence and cocky bravado, stared at the empty battlefield in front of her with visible distress, her fingers twitching as the realization sank like a bad hangover after a night of 'responsible celebrations', "No way," she muttered, eyes darting around like she expected few brave militia men would suddenly materialize out of thin air, ready to be pummeled into unconsciousness for a payday that barely covered a meal, "This...This isn't fucking possible. They wouldn't all quit."

"They did all quit," Blake deadpanned, arms crossed as she surveyed the abandoned fortifications that should have been swarming with hapless foot soldiers, "And I can't believe I'm saying this, but...I think we might be out of work."

Ruby, standing between them, looked genuinely heartbroken, her fingers tightening around the shaft of Crescent Rose as she took in the horrifyingly empty field in front of her, "But...But fighting goons is what we do," she said, voice soft, almost disbelieving, "If they're gone, then...then how are we supposed to get stronger?"

"How are we supposed to make money?" Yang corrected, scowling, "Do you know how much we got paid for beating up one militia? It was, like, stupid money. I was saving up for a new bike!"

Weiss groaned, rubbing her temples, "You mean to tell me that we have single-handedly fought and humiliated so many of them that they collectively decided it wasn't worth it? Tch, cowards."

Yang kicked at a rock in frustration, "Come on, we weren't that bad!"

Weiss gave her a flat look, "You once suplexed a guy into twelve other guys." Not that she judged her for that, of course. That was their role. To be the opposition the Huntsmen dealt with.

"Okay, they were standing too close together!"

"You did it three times."

Ruby, who'd been eerily quiet, suddenly clutched her scythe to her chest, her eyes wide with genuine fear, "W-What if...What if they never come back?" she whispered, looking from Yang to Blake to Weiss like they had all the answers, "What if they all get normal jobs o-or go into farming or something? What if we have to start taking actual missions?"

The very thought sent visible shudders down all four of them, "Ain't happening," Yang muttered, panic creeping into her voice, "I refuse to go back to escort missions. Do you know how boring it is to deal with slow people who whine when you get more than ten feet away from them? Nuh-uh."

Weiss scoffed, "Oh, please, I doubt it'll last. They're simpletons. They'll come crawling back when they realize how boring normal life is. Trust me, give it a few weeks and they'll be be back crawling on their hands and knees."

[line break]

Days passed, then weeks, then an entire month, and the worst-case scenario that Huntsmen across Remnant had vehemently denied as impossible, ridiculous, completely absurd had become an undeniable, inescapable, financially devastating reality.

The goons weren't coming back. Not a single one. No matter how many missions were posted, no matter how much money was offered, no matter how many mercenary contracts went out, there wasn't a single soldier, guard, or generic henchman willing to sign up and become cannon fodder for the absurdly powerful warriors who had, for so long, treated them like walking combo practice. They'd inflicted the most devastating blow one could do to an enemy.

To be ignored.

For years, Huntmsne had taken the existence of mooks for granted, never once considering the possibility that their supply of disposable punching bags might actually run out. But run out they had, and the consequences were catastrophic.

And no one was feeling the heat more than Weiss.

At first, she'd scoffed at the notion that a mere lack of grunts could possibly pose any issue to someone of her station, dismissing her teammates' worries with a sharp flick of her ponytail and a pointed remark about how only lazy, brute-force fighters relied on weaklings to farm experience and money. But as time dragged on, and her normally overflowing bank account started dwindling at an alarming rate, even she was forced to admit that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

It had started subtly. Small changes, barely noticeable at first. A few transactions here and there, a couple of withdrawals to fund important expenses like new custom Dust cartridges, a shipment of high-quality polish for Myrtenaster, and an entire seasonal wardrobe. Things she normally wouldn't even think about. She could earn the needed money just with a couple of armies taken down. But then she noticed her balance going from six digits to five.

The realization hit her hard. The money wasn't coming back. For the first time in her life, Weiss had no stable source of income.

At first, she brushed it off. It would be fine, she told herself. She'd get another lucrative contract, another opportunity to humiliate a battalion of underpaid militia men while walking away with a purse full of Lien.

Yet the weeks dragged on and those opportunities never came. The board had been filled with the same generic slop of escort missions, fetch quests, and bodyguard work that paid a pathetic 200 lien a pop. Pathetic.

Weiss had tried so hard to pretend it didn't bother her, to tell herself that she was better than this, that a proper Huntress didn't rely on brute-force engagements to sustain herself. She was an elegant fighter, a tactician, a Schnee. She was better than this!

But when the funds in her personal accounts reached dangerously low levels, when she was forced to start calculating her expenses like some commoner, and she found herself actually hesitating before making unnecessary purchases because for the first time ever she might not be able to replenish her wealth...

That was when the panic set in.

The final, humiliating blow came when she received a message from her financial advisor, a man who had never once spoken to her directly because her wealth had always been so vast and self-sustaining that it simply wasn't a concern. He informed her that, effective immediately, she would need to adjust her lifestyle if she wished to avoid liquidating her 'non-essential assets.'

Non-essential assets!

She had stared at the message, blinking in disbelief, unable to fully process what she was reading. Liquidate? Adjust her lifestyle? What was this nonsense?! She was Weiss Schnee! Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company! A refined and disciplined warrior who'd spent years mastering her craft! She was a Huntress, not some reckless brute who threw punches until the problem went away!

And yet, none of that mattered now. Because all the grunts were gone and her money was drying up.

For the first time in her life, she was broke. Not technically broke, of course - there were still company assets, trust funds, and stock dividends she could tap into - but the personal fortune she'd once taken for granted, the wealth she had always assumed would never run out, had dwindled so low that she was now at risk of her lifestype being upended. She might have had to leave her penthouse or...or buy something besides the very best, most refined Dust!

If this kept up, she'd have to dip into her family's funds, and Father would never let her hear the end of it.

It was all because of Jaune Arc. The man who had thrown down his helmet, turned his back on a system that had kept Huntsmen rich and powerful for generations, and taken thousands - no, tens of thousands - of his fellow militiamen with him.

The idiot. The absolute buffoon. The utter fool who had, through nothing but sheer stubborn refusal to be 'abused' any longer, ruined everything.

Yang was miserable. Ruby was heartbroken. Blake was still in denial, but she'd fall soon too. The entire Huntsman community was in shambles, and even Weiss herself was now suffering.

And the worst part of it all? They couldn't do anything about it.

No amount of anger, (justified) protests about how unfair it was, or Huntsman bravado could change the fact that they had completely exhausted their most valuable resource: disposable, underpaid, easily replacable cannon fodder. For the first time in history, Huntsmen were at a disadvantage.

Jaune Arc, wherever he was, was probably laughing himself to sleep every night. And Weiss could do nothing but scream into a pillow as her bank account slowly dwindled.

Old Friends Reunited (Ruby x OC Smut Story)

Commission for someone. A Ruby x OC smut story. Never did this before, so hopefully it's okay. Wonder if you guys will like it.

Next patron thing will be the next chapter for Maid Jaune. Time for Weiss to have her fun with the Maid. May or may also involve her being a sis-con for Winter. We'll see. After Weiss, it'll be Cinder, Blake, or an outsider. People seem to want May Zedong or Reese Chloris.

[line break]

The ballroom was dazzling.

The place practically screamed wealth, with its giant golden chandeliers, polished marble floors, and ridiculously fancy decorations. Ruby could feel the money in the air, and she had no idea how Weiss wasn't breaking out into some kind of happy, high-society dance right now. Everywhere she looked, people were dressed to the nines - silk gowns, tailored suits, jewelry that probably cost more than a lifetime's worth of cookies. And, of course, the whole place was filled with the kind of polite, fake laughter that made her want to check if she still had her weapons on her.

Not that she could use Crescent Rose in a place like this, but still. It would've made her feel way less out of her element.

This whole thing was way too fancy for her. Ruby sighed, swirling the champagne in her glass. She hadn't even taken a sip of it yet. She wasn't big on alcohol (you could thank Uncle Qrow for that), and this smelled like something that tasted both weird and expensive. But holding it made her look like she was doing something, which was better than standing around awkwardly. Weiss told her that looking busy was the most important thing in places like this. If you didn't, everyone would come up to you talking about this and that.

This whole party was in honor of her. Well, her and the rest of Team RWBY. The saviors of Remnant. The ones who beat Salem, ended the war, and made the world a safer place. Which was cool and all, but she really wished people would stop throwing these big, fancy parties for them.

Not that she was ungrateful or anything! It was nice that people cared. But this? The overly polite conversations, the weirdly serious dancing, and the sheer amount of people who wanted to shake her hand and say thank you for your service, Miss Rose like she was some kind of military general? Yeah. Not her scene. She would've preferred being out there in the frontier. Just because Salem was gone didn't mean the Grimm disappeared. It just meant they were running wild instead of organized, which was...better, but not the best.

Ruby had come mostly because not showing up would've been rude. Weiss had reminded her of that a million times before they even got here. It's important for public relations, Ruby. People want to see their heroes. And don't slouch in your dress - it was tailored for you.

Ruby resisted the urge to slouch right now just out of spite.

The dress was nice, though. A deep red, hugging her figure in a way that actually made her feel kind of...grown-up. She was still getting used to that feeling. At twenty-two, she wasn't the lanky kid she used to be, but her brain still hadn't fully caught up with the fact that she was an adult. An adult who was standing in the middle of a ballroom at a party in her honor, wearing a dress that Weiss had all but thrown at her and heels - because Weiss had insisted she wear them.

Ugh. The heels.

Ruby shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to just take them off and go barefoot. These things were not made for running, jumping, or doing literally anything fun. She felt like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time. How did Weiss and Blake make it look so easy? Give her a pair of boots any day.

Speaking of her team, they were somewhere around here. Yang was off charming some high-profile Huntresses, probably making them laugh so hard they'd fall in love with her instantly. Blake had disappeared into the crowd, and Ruby was pretty sure she was hiding somewhere high up, watching everything from a comfortable distance. Weiss was, unsurprisingly, in her element - talking to people with that natural air of Schnee elegance, completely at home in a place like this.

And then there was Ruby. Standing here. Alone. Awkward.

She took a deep breath, staring into the crowd.

Years ago, if someone had told her this was where she'd end up - alive, celebrated, standing in a ballroom while people called her a hero - she probably would've laughed. She'd dreamed of being a Huntress for so long, but she never imagined it would come with...this. The fancy parties, the expectations, the speeches she had to give sometimes. She was good at fighting Grimm and bad guys, not shaking hands with politicians and pretending she belonged in their world.

She wasn't that fifteen-year-old kid anymore, wide-eyed and full of dreams. She had been through some bad stuff. She'd seen war, seen people die, made choices that still stuck with her late at night when the world got too quiet.

And yet...

She exhaled slowly. It was over. The war, Salem, the constant fear that the world could end at any second. That part of her life was over. She had survived. She had won.

...Now she was here, at a fancy party she really didn't want to be at, but still. She was here. That had to count for something.

Ruby was just about to slip away to the balcony and look at the night sky when someone pounced, "Miss Rose!" A firm hand clapped her shoulder (which was pretty forward even in a place like this), and she barely managed not to flinch. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with a man who looked like he'd been practicing this exact moment in the mirror for months.

"Councilman Hadley," he introduced himself, his handshake already locked and loaded before she even had a chance to react. He was in his sixties, balding but clearly desperately trying to hold onto the last wisps of hair, his mustache neatly trimmed in a way that screamed, trust me, I'm one of the good ones! His suit was sharp, his tie maybe a little too tight, and his smile - ugh, that smile - was the kind of polished, political grin that instantly made her leery.

Alarm bells immediately rang in her head. This wasn't the first time someone came up to her like this...

"I must say," Hadley continued, gripping her hand just tight enough to make it clear he wasn't letting go anytime soon. Not that fighting off a guy three times her age would've been hard, but it was bad manners to judo throw people in parties, "It's an absolute honor to meet you in person. Truly. A woman- no, a legend of your caliber. It's almost overwhelming! If someone had told me years ago that I'd be shaking the hand of the savior of Remnant herself, I'd have laughed them right out of the room!"

Ruby forced a polite smile, subtly trying to extract her hand. Yikes.

"But here you are!" Hadley chuckled, finally releasing her, though his sharp eyes never wavered, "And might I just say, you are even more impressive in person. Why, Miss Rose, you're a symbol of everything Vale stands for! Strength, determination, perseverance! And such humility, too, despite all you've done. It's honestly refreshing in today's political climate."

Oh no. She could see where this was going. Ruby bit back a grimace. Being the leader of the team that saved Remnant came with...perks. Parades, fans, statues in her honor, her own strawberry farm, the works. She didn't ask for any of it, but she couldn't exactly do much to stop it either. She told people she was just doing her job and all that, but they just thought she was being humble. Didn't help that Yang leaned into it. Free drinks for life in some of her favorite clubs? How could she refuse? Ugh.

Then there were the...politicians. She shuddered. It didn't matter that they barely survived the end of the freaking world or that Vale and Atlas were still rebuilding. They just saw it as a chance to prop themselves up on top while everyone was still reeling. And who better to help them get there than one of the saviors of Remannt?

"I won't take up too much of your time," Hadley said, stepping just a little closer, "I know a woman like you is very busy. But, well, since we have this moment..." He chuckled, as if they'd just run into each other at a farmer's market instead of him clearly hunting for her the second she walked in, "I wanted to personally extend my admiration for what you've done for this kingdom. You saved Vale, Miss Rose. All of Remnant, really. And now that we are in the process of rebuilding, it's crucial that we have leadership that reflects the same values that got us through those dark times, don't you think?"

Ruby's smile became a little more forced. Uh-huh. There it was. This was...what, the sixth politician to try this stunt this month alone?

"I'm actually running for office in Vale's upcoming elections," Hadley went on smoothly, obviously reading from a very well-rehearsed script, "A fresh start, new leadership - bringing true stability back to the people. I'm sure you agree that now, more than ever, the people need someone they can trust."

She opened her mouth, trying to think of a way to steer the conversation away from whatever favor he was about to ask, but Hadley was already pressing forward, clearly not done yet.

"You have such a strong influence, Miss Rose. The people love you! They believe in you. And let's be honest - your word carries more weight than any campaign speech ever could." His smile widened, all charm and just the right amount of fake sincerity, "It would mean so much to have your endorsement. After all, a hero like yourself wouldn't want to leave the future of Vale in the hands of just anyone, would you?"

Holy hell, this guy was laying it on thick. Ruby fought the urge to groan. Two years on and it hadn't stopped. Weiss had specifically warned her about this exact scenario, "Ruby, under no circumstances should you agree to anything political without running it by me first. You have no idea how ruthless these people can be!"

Yeah, yeah. Weiss was always right about these things. But still - Ruby could handle herself!

...

Probably.

Hadley was still watching her expectantly, his beady little politician eyes practically vibrating with anticipation. She needed an out. Fast, "Wow, uh-" she started, about to make some excuse about "needing to check with her team first" when-

"Oh, come on, Ruby."

A new voice cut in, smooth, familiar, and perfectly timed. Ruby blinked. A man had stepped up beside her, his presence so natural it was like he'd been there the whole time. Tall - probably half a head taller than her (thanks to that late-stage growth spurt) - with messy gray hair and sharp blue eyes. He was wearing a suit, but compared to the pristine, polished outfits of the other guests, his had a much more lived-in look. Still formal and expensive, but the tie was undone, the vest a little looser, and the jacket worn in a way that made it seem more comfortable than stiff.

And he was looking right at her.

Hadley's smile stiffened, "I don't believe we've met."

The man barely spared him a glance, "Old friends," he said smoothly, slinging an arm over Ruby's shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world, "Haven't seen each other in years, and she was just about to leave me hanging. Not very heroic of you, is it, Ruby?"

Oh, bless this guy. Ruby barely had to think before slipping right into the act, a relieved, genuine smile spreading across her face as she turned toward him, "Right! Sorry, Hadley," she said, already taking a step back, "I'd love to talk politics, really, but old friend trumps new acquaintance no matter who you are. Gotta catch up - super important stuff." Hadley looked like he wanted to argue, but what was he gonna do? Demand she not talk to a long-lost friend?

So instead, he forced out a tight smile, "Of course. We'll speak later, Miss Rose."

No, they wouldn't.

Ruby barely resisted the urge to sprint away as the stranger gently steered her through the crowd, his hand warm against her back. Once they were a safe distance away, she let out a deep breath and turned to get a proper look at him, "So," she said, giving him a lopsided grin, "Who exactly do I owe my life to?" If he was another politician hoping to get on her good graces, she was gonna be really freaking pissed.

"What? You don't recognize me?" He laughed. She blinked then looked him up and down, her eyes sweeping over the tousled gray hair, the sharp blue eyes, the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and for a second, she thought maybe he was just some smooth talker who happened to swoop in at the right time trying to score, but then-

She blinked.

Wait a second.

That face. That posture. That slightly lopsided grin that always made it look like he was up to something.

Oh.

Ohhh.

She did know him, "Richard?" The name slipped out before she could stop it, her head tilting slightly in disbelief as she stared up at him.

Richard Silverstone, the mayor's son from...from Patch.

She could hardly believe it.

They'd were friends - good friends - years back. Back when she was just a kid running around the island, still dreaming about being a Huntress and thinking life was simple. He'd always been around, always a little taller, always a little too good at teasing her in ways that got under her skin but never crossed the line into outright mean.

She remembered sparring with him in the training fields behind her house, him always acting like he was humoring her, right up until she landed a hit and he'd immediately give up cause he didn't have remembered sneaking out to explore the outskirts of Patch, Richard always the one to suggest some ridiculous adventure, and her, being Ruby, always going along with it. She remembered late summer nights sitting on the dock, swinging their legs over the edge, talking about what they'd do when they got older. She always wanted to be a Huntress, but he was kinda aimless.

Then she'd gone to Beacon and...everything happened.

They'd lost touch. Not on purpose, but between training, the Fall, the war, the never-ending fight to save the world, she was barely able to keep up with her team, let alone people from back home. Patch - her home, her childhood, her entire previous life - was behind in the dust of her journey, something she always thought she'd return to later. Like the hero leaving their hometown to exlore the big bad world. Something she'd come back to at the end of her journey.

Only later never really came. She hadn't been back to Patch in years.

And now here he was, standing in front of her like no time had passed at all. Richard's smirk widened just a little, "So you do remember me," he said, tone amused but a little softer than before, "I was starting to worry I'd have to reintroduce myself."

Ruby huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh, still looking him over, still trying to process the fact that he was here, "You got taller," she finally said, crossing her arms as she gave him an exaggerated once-over.

Richard raised a brow, "So did you."

Ruby scoffed, "Not by much."

"Still counts."

She rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small grin pulling at her lips. It was weird, seeing him again, being pulled back into an old familiarity she hadn't even realized she missed until now. The weight of everything that had happened, all the years that had passed, settled over her for just a moment before she pushed it aside. Right now, all that mattered was that she wasn't stuck talking to that politician anymore, and somehow, in this sea of strangers, she'd found someone who actually knew her.

She let out a breath and shook her head, still smiling, "Well, I guess I owe you for saving me back there," she said, "So, what's the plan? You really just wanna catch up?"

"Sure, why not?" He smiled.

[line break]

For the first time that night, Ruby actually relaxed.

She and Richard found a quiet spot near one of the balcony doors, away from the worst of the schmoozing politicians and businessmen, where they could actually talk without someone butting in to either flatter her or subtly ask for favors. It was...nice. She wasn't against going to these parties on principle, but there wasn't a single one where someone didn't try to schmooze or pretend they were such big fans and could she pretty please endorse their campaign or appear on this ad?

They talked about Patch, about how things had held up during the war. Vale had fallen, but Patch had managed to hold its ground, thanks to a mix of luck, stubbornness, and just enough defenses to keep the worst of the Grimm at bay (plus Salem not really caring about it). Even still, it was rough. The sudden influx of refugees from Vale had nearly overwhelmed the island, and keeping order had been a challenge. Richard, apparently, had stepped up to help his dad manage things - coordinating supply chains, settling disputes, making sure everyone had a place to stay.

He talked about it like it was just something that needed to be done, like it wasn't a big deal. Ruby knew better, "Sounds like you've been busy," she said, tilting her head at him.

Richard shrugged, "Had to be. Patch isn't a big place, but it is home. I wasn't gonna sit back and let things fall apart."

Ruby hummed in approval, "Not bad, not bad." Then she smirked, eyes gleaming with playful smugnless, "Of course, I was a little busier, y'know. What with the whole saving the world thing and all." She didn't like to brag usually, but among friends? It was fine. She knew they wouldn't treat her as anything besides Ruby.

Richard snorted, "Ah, yes. The legendary Ruby Rose, Slayer of Salem, Hero of Remnant, all-around badass." He leaned against the balcony railing, crossing his arms, "Should I be kneeling or something? Maybe groveling at your feet?"

Ruby waggled her eyebrows, "Wouldn't say no to that."

He rolled his eyes, but she caught the faintest twitch of a grin at the corner of his mouth, "Yeah, yeah, big damn hero, we all know."

"Savior of Remnant," Ruby corrected, tapping her chin in mock thought, "Or was it Legendary Warrior? Greatest Huntress in history? Silver-Eyed Savior? Ugh, I keep forgetting my title. I have so many!"

Richard snorted, "You haven't changed at all."

She grinned, shrugging, "Eh, maybe a little."

The conversation flowed easily after that. They bounced between serious topics and old memories, catching up on everything that had happened in the years they'd lost touch. Richard asked if she'd been back to Patch at all, and Ruby had to admit - somewhat awkwardly - that she hadn't. She'd meant to, really. But things just kept coming up. Grimm still popping around. She'd gone where the hordes were thickest. Her Silver Eyes meant she could kill them faster than just about any other Huntsman could.

She expected him to tease her about it, but he didn't. He just nodded, "Figured. You had bigger things to deal with." It meant more than she thought it would. People adored her, sure, but it also came with expectations. She was the Hero, the one they expected to be perfect.

An hour passed before Ruby even realized it. She was mid-sentence - something about how if she ever went back, she expected at least one free meal from her old favorite diner - when Richard suddenly straightened and turned to her with a casual shrug, "Hey. You wanna head out?"

Ruby blinked, "Huh?"

Richard jerked his head toward the exit, "Come on. You're miserable here."

She hesitated, "I mean, I - "

"I'll take that as a yes." He grinned, "C'mon, Rubes. Let's ditch this snoozefest. You look like you're about five minutes away from throwing yourself off the balcony just to escape." Ruby did want to leave. That was no secret. She only ever went to these things because Weiss insisted. They were more then just Huntresses now, she said. They were symbols. Larger than life figures thaat inspired people. Ruby ditched as often as she could, but Weiss had practically dragged her here by the ear and said she had to put in an appearance. How would it look like if the one who stopped Salem didn't put in an appearance on the anniversary of her defeat?

So she knew Weiss would definitely yell at her for sneaking off early.

...

Buuuut Weiss could yell at her later.

She exhaled, then shrugged with a lazy grin, "Sure. Why not?"

[line break]

Richard's place wasn't huge, but it was still pretty dang nice.

The kind of nice that came from a comfortable, steady income instead of being stupid rich. Ruby wasn't sure what she expected. Being the son of Patch's mayor didn't exactly come with Schnee-levels of fortune, but it was clear Richard was doing well for himself. The house had that lived-in but still classy feel, all polished wood, neatly arranged furniture, and soft lighting that made it feel warm rather than overbearing. Best part? No giant paintings of dead relatives staring at you like they had an itchy nose and blamed you for it.

Ruby let out a low whistle as they stepped inside, hands on her hips as she took it all in, "Not bad," she hummed , glancing over at him, "You sure you're not secretly rich?"

Richard scoffed, kicking off his shoes before motioning for her to follow him further inside. Ruby did the same, toeing off those gods-awful heels, "Please. You know damn well Patch mayors don't get that much. I just know how to spend wisely."

He led her past the main living area where a sleek couch and a well-stocked bookshelf caught her eye before stopping in front of a door at the far end of the hall. With a smirk, he gestured for her to step inside first. Ruby arched a brow, "What, you got some kind of secret lair in here?" She wasn't scared. Even on the off-chance her old friend secretly turned into some weirdo serial killer, she was a Huntress. Sure, she wasn't armed, but she actually knew how to fight without Crescent Rose now.

Richard just grinned, "Something like that."

Curious, she pushed the door open and immediately let out an impressed whistle. The room was practically an armory. Both walls were lined with weapons. Racks upon racks of beautifully crafted firearms, melee weapons, and custom-built hybrids, all neatly arranged with the kind of care only a true weapons geek would bother with. Some were sleek and modern, others were old-school classics, and a few looked custom-made, though Ruby couldn't tell if Richard had built them himself or just collected them.

She let out a low chuckle, stepping further inside as she ran a finger over the hilt of a particularly wicked-looking sword, "Okay, seriously. This is a huge armory for someone who's not a Huntsman."

Richard laughed, leaning against the doorframe as he watched her, "I don't need to be a Huntsman to appreciate good weapons." He smirked, "C'mon, Rubes, you and I spent years geeking out over this stuff as kids. You think I was just gonna grow out of it?"

Ruby turned to him with an amused grin, "Guess not. I did always say you had good taste."

"And I always said you were obsessed," Richard shot back, stepping further in and reaching up to grab one of the rifles off the wall. He turned it over in his hands before tossing it to her without warning, "Still know your stuff, Silver Savior?"

Ruby caught it instantly, her fingers curling around the grip like it was second nature, "Please. Like I'd ever forget."

Talking about weapons was easy. It always had been.

Ruby had spent so much of her childhood obsessing over weapon schematics, studying how different designs worked, and debating which combinations were the most effective. Richard had been one of the only people back then who actually kept up with her rambling. He'd never rolled his eyes when she went off on a tangent about recoil compensation or the versatility of foldable blades. He'd added to the conversation, bouncing theories back and forth, even when they were just kids pretending they knew what they were talking about.

And now, years later, it was exactly the same.

She leaned against the workbench, flipping the rifle over in her hands, inspecting the weight distribution and balance like it was second nature, "Bolt-action with a reinforced barrel... looks like Dust-augmented rounds too," she mused, glancing up at Richard with a teasing grin, "Pretty old-school for a guy who used to swear by semi-auto rifles."

Richard smirked, standing just a little too close as he reached over and adjusted the weapon in her grip, "What can I say? I've matured." His fingers brushed against hers as he tapped the barrel, "Besides, you know me. I like power and precision. Thought you'd appreciate that."

Ruby hummed, pretending to think it over, "Mmm. Not bad. Not Crescent Rose level, but not bad."

Richard chuckled, stepping back slightly - but not too far. He was still close, still within reach, his presence warm and steady beside her. It wasn't intrusive, wasn't overbearing like some of the ones she'd had to deal with in the past.

She was used to people fawning over her.

Being one of the saviors of Remnant had a way of drawing attention, and not all of it was welcome. She'd had to deal with more than her fair share of admirers. Most of them were harmless, but some were downright creepy. Fanboys who acted like she was some untouchable goddess, treating her with so much reverence it became suffocating. Strangers who got too bold, thinking that just 'cause she was famous, she'd tolerate them getting in her space.

Richard wasn't like that. He didn't idolize her. He wasn't in awe of her. She could tell he thought she was attractive, but that wasn't a bad thing. Sure, she liked killing Grimm more than attending parties. And yeah, she knew more about the Atlesian Rifle platform than interpersonal relationships. But that didn't mean she wasn't a woman. She liked it when people saw her and thought she was pretty. She just wished they weren't so creepy or obsessed about it.

Familiar. Relaxed. Confident, but not pushy. He leaned close when he talked, his shoulder brushing against hers, his fingers occasionally skimming over her hands when he pointed out details on a weapon. Once, he rested a hand on her back. Just a fleeting touch, a casual press of warmth as he reached past her to grab something off the shelf. Later, he put a tentative hand on her thigh when they were talking about which AR platform was better.

Ruby noticed. She noticed the way he was positioning himself, the way his fingers lingered just a fraction of a second longer than necessary, the way he didn't pull away too quickly when they bumped into each other.

She didn't mind. If anything, it was...nice. She was a Huntress, someone who had spent years in the field, learning how to trust her instincts, how to read people, how to know when someone was being genuine or when they had ulterior motives. Right now, she didn't feel tense. She didn't feel wary.

If she really wanted to, she could just stand up, thank him for the chat, and walk out the door. He wouldn't stop her. He wouldn't try to stop her. And even if he did, she could handle herself. She'd fought Grimm the size of buildings and dealt with hordes by the daily.

Richard leaned against the bench beside her, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips, "So. Am I still just 'some guy who's not a Huntsman' or do I officially get some weapons cred now?"

Ruby let out a laugh, shifting her weight so that their arms barely touched. She raised a brow, tilting her head at him with mock consideration, "Hmm, I guess you're not completely hopeless. But I dunno, Rich - might have to test you in a spar before I officially recognize your skills."

His smirk deepened, "Oh? You wanna go a few rounds, Rose?" The way he said her name sent a flicker of heat down her spine. They both knew she didn't mean an actual sparring match. She didn't know if Richard had Aura now, but even if he did, she'd trained with the best of the best. Her Uncle Qrow, the Ace-Ops...people who pushed her to her absolute limits. She wasn't one of the best Huntresses on Remnant just because of her Silver Eyes.

Ruby held his gaze, her lips curling up in challenge, "Maybe I do."

For a moment, neither of them moved. The space between them was charged, thick with something Ruby wasn't entirely used to - at least, not like this. Not in a way that felt like it was creeping up her spine, heating her skin, making her heart hammer against her ribs with something that wasn't the thrill of battle, but something just as exhilarating. Richard was watching her, eyes sharp, almost expectant. He wasn't pushing, wasn't assuming anything, but he wasn't backing off, either. He was giving her the choice.

And Ruby...

She didn't think. She just moved.

Their lips met in a slow, tentative kiss, testing the waters. But it barely lasted a second before something deeper took hold; hotter, hungrier. Richard made a low sound in the back of his throat, and suddenly his hands were on her, one gripping her waist, the other tilting her chin up just enough to give him better access. Ruby let out a quiet gasp as he pressed in, and just like that, all hesitation was gone.

She wanted this.

She'd spent years fighting, pushing herself to the breaking point, struggling to stay alive long enough to save the world, and in all that time, she never stopped to really want something for herself. But right now: she wanted this.

She rose up on her toes, pressing closer, and Richard let out a soft groan against her lips before gripping her thighs and lifting her off the ground. Ruby didn't even hesitate. Her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, arms looping around his neck as he stumbled slightly, clearly not expecting her to just launch herself at him like that, "Warn me next time," he muttered, voice rough against her ear as he adjusted his grip, fingers digging into the bare skin of her thighs where her dress had hiked up.

Ruby barely heard him. She was too focused on how good this felt. The heat of his hands, the way his body pressed against hers, the sharp, intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with something inherently him.She felt him shift, adjusting his stance, and then-

They were moving. Shakily, Richard carried her through the doorway, almost bumping into the wall as he blindly navigated toward what she guessed was his bedroom. Ruby giggled against his lips, tightening her hold around him, pressing a teasing kiss just below his jaw.

"You're struggling," she teased, voice breathless.

Richard huffed, "You're heavier than you look."

"Ohhh, bad move, buddy." She nipped at his ear in retaliation, making him stumble before regaining control, "Pro-tip, women don't like it when you call them fat."

"Okay, you're definitely trying to make this harder."

"Maybe." She rubbed herself up against him and grinned, "Speaking of hard..."

He growled under his breath, and then suddenly they were falling. Or more accurately, he was dropping her onto the bed with just enough force to make her bounce slightly. Ruby barely had time to process before Richard was on top of her, hands braced on either side of her head, his face hovering inches from hers. His blue eyes were dark, filled with something heavy. She saw the same hunger she felt and let out a shuddering breath.

She reached up, curled her fingers into the front of his shirt, and pulled him down into another searing kiss, their tongues wrestling with one another as they pushed more and more. It wasn't her first kiss, but that kind of thing lost a lot of meaning for her. Technically, her first kiss was when she had to give desperate CPR to Blake during a mission gone wrong. It was as far from sexy as you could imagine.

Ruby barely had time to catch her breath when the two of them split before she felt Richard's lips move lower, trailing along her jaw before pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the side of her neck. She let out a quiet breath, tilting her head just slightly, giving him more space to explore as he took his time, mapping out every inch of her skin with slow, deliberate attention. She felt lightheaded, but it was...good. Great.

His mouth was warm, his breath teasing against the sensitive skin, and then she felt it - his lips pressing against an old, faded scar, one that stretched just beneath her collarbone, a souvenir from a battle long won. It something she had to deal with every time she looked in the mirror. Reminders of how close she came to death, how often she brushed against it for all those years.

Richard didn't rush. He kissed every single one. Every faded line, every mark left behind from the countless fights she'd thrown herself into. His lips brushed over them with a kind of reverence that sent a shiver down her spine, something deep and warm curling in her chest at the way he acknowledged them. He wasn't shying away from them, wasn't imagining they weren't there like the rest of her fans who pretended she was some flawless goddess.

He was cherishing them.

Ruby let out a slow, shaky breath as his mouth continued its descent, his hands carefully pushing aside the fabric of her dress, his kisses trailing lower and lower until he reached the soft, generous swell of her breasts. Still not as big as Yang's, but she'd grown a lot since her Beacon days. Her fingers curled into his hair as he lingered there, pressing a kiss just above the edge of her dress; teasing, testing, waiting for any sign that she wanted him to stop.

She didn't want him to now, not when every nerve in her body was buzzing, not when her heart was pounding against her ribs, not when he was right there, touching her like she was something precious and beautiful all at once.

Her grip in his hair tightened just slightly, a wordless plea, and Richard chuckled against her skin before pressing another heated kiss just above her heart, "You really have grown up, huh?" His voice was low, teasing, but laced with something heavier.

Ruby swallowed breathlessly, "You're just figuring that out now?"

He hummed, his lips grazing her skin once more before he lifted his head, his blue eyes locking onto hers with a hunger that made her stomach tighten, "Guess I needed a reminder." He looked down, drinking in the sight of her.

"So...are you just gonna look or are we gonna do this?"

Richard wasted no time. As soon as Ruby gave him that look - lips parted, chest rising and falling just a little quicker than before - he practically ripped his shirt off, tossing it somewhere behind him before hurriedly shimming out of his pants. His movements were rushed, desperate, like he'd been holding himself back this entire time and had finally decided there was no point in pretending anymore. Knowing that she was the cause of that made her spine tingle.

Ruby didn't hesitate to follow. She reached for the straps of her dress, dragging them down her shoulders before slipping out of the fabric entirely, barely giving it a second thought as she tossed it on the floor beside the bed. There was a faint voice at the back of her head, one that sounded suspiciously like Weiss, scolding her about how expensive that dress was, how careless she was being, but she shoved it aside.

Right now, she didn't care. All she cared about was the way Richard's eyes dragged over her, the way his hands twitched like he was barely holding himself back. Just like her neck, there were scars all across her body. Most of them had faded to almost nothing thanks to her Aura, but a few stubbornly refused to go away. One on her right side, a jagged scar that ran from her waist to her abdomen, marred the pale skin. A last gift from Tyrian. She'd joked before that her beach days were over, but when Richard saw it, she didn't see any hesitation. He looked at it like it was something beautiful.

They were down to almost nothing. Her in nothing but her bra and panties, Richard in just his boxers. The sight of him like this - exposed, breathing heavier, his toned chest rising and falling with barely restrained hunger - sent a rush of heat straight through her. She had seen him before, obviously. They had grown up together, played together, spent summers running around in the heat, but this was different. This wasn't just a childhood friend standing in front of her.

This was a man. A very, very attractive man, standing in front of her in nothing but his underwear, looking at her like he wanted to devour her whole. Ruby licked her lips, eyes dragging downward, and without a second thought, she reached between his legs, cupping the obvious bulge beneath his boxers.

Richard sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body tensing as she gave him an experimental squeeze, her fingers trailing over the outline of his length. She hummed, tilting her head, "You're so hard." She meant it to come across as soft and seductive. Instead, she sounded awestruck.

He let out something between a groan and a curse, hands bracing agaisnt the sides of her head to steady himself, "Ruby..." His voice was rough, strained, like he was using every ounce of willpower not to just take her right then and there like a starving anmal.

She smirked, fingers teasing along his length through the fabric, enjoying the way his breathing hitched, the way his grip on her tightened, "I mean," she hummed, pressing just a little firmer against him, "I knew you were excited, but this?" She glanced up at him through her lashes, her voice dropping slightly, "This is something else."

Richard couldn't hold back anymore. She could see it. The moment she palmed him through his boxers, something inside him snapped. Whatever restraint he had left shattered in an instant, leaving nothing but raw hunger, a need that had been building from the second she pressed her lips to his. His hands moved fast, yanking down his boxers, kicking them away like they were nothing. His erection stood tall, thick, and heavy, flushed with heat and aching for her.

Ruby barely had a second to admire the sight before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and ripped them clean off.

She let out a startled gasp, but the only thing she really felt was thrill. The little Weiss voice in the back of her head was screaming about the cost, about how that had been expensive, Ruby, for the love of the Brothers, have some respect for fine lace!, but Ruby ignored it, just like she ignored every other warning sign telling her to slow down.

She gulped, her eyes dropping down between them, drinking in the sight of him. Nine inches. Hard as a rock. All because of her. Heat pooled low in her stomach, a mix of nervous excitement and something darker, something deeper, something that made her breath come out just a little faster.

Without a word, Ruby laid back against the bed, spreading her legs just enough to invite him closer. His breath hitched. His hands tightened around her thighs. Slowly, carefully, he lined himself up, the thick tip pressing against her entrance.

And then, with deliberate slowness, he began to push inside. Richard moved gently, carefully, his body tense with restraint as he pressed forward, easing himself into her inch by inch. Ruby let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into the sheets as she adjusted to the feeling of him stretching her, filling her in a way that was new but not unwelcome. He was big, but he wasn't rushing, wasn't pushing too hard.

She looked up at him, at the way his face twisted in concentration, at the way his hands gripped her thighs like he was grounding himself. His eyes flickered to hers, and there was something in them - something warm, something deep, something that told her this wasn't just about raw need.

Just the two No Grimm. No war. No politics.

No people trying to get something from her.

Just an old friend, someone who had known her before she became Ruby Rose, Huntress of Legends, Savior of Remnant. Someone who wasn't here because of what she had done or what she could offer, but because he wanted her.

That thought made her heart beat faster, made her reach up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him down into a slow, lingering kiss. They'd always had a bit of puppy love between them growing up. Sure, Ruby was more focused on being a Huntress back then, but that didn't mean she couldn't have a life outside of that. The Fall had changed things. Vale almost being destroyed, Yang losing an arm, that trip to Mistral...anything besides stopping Salem had left her mind entirely.

But it was over now. She could move on.

Richard groaned softly against her lips, his movements still careful as he bottomed out inside her, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he adjusted to the way she felt around him. He didn't move right away. Instead, he kissed her again, deeper this time, one hand sliding up her side, tracing the curve of her waist, memorizing the shape of her. Ruby sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing, melting into his warmth.

She felt...full. Ruby breathed out slowly, trying to keep herself steady. She was a virgin, but that didn't mean she was innocent. She knew how this went. She read porn during lonely nights and took care of herself every now and then. Her half-lidded eyes looked down at the sight of his cock buried up to the hilt inside her snatch. There was no blood - her hymen broke years ago from rigorous training. Still the sight of her pussy accepting every inch of his veiny serpent made her feel lightheaded.

And then he moved.

A slow, gentle roll of his hips, withdrawing just enough before pushing back in, setting a rhythm that was tender but still full of heat, a quiet passion simmering between them. She clung to him, her nails digging lightly into his back as he thrust into her, each movement deliberate.

It wasn't frantic, wasn't rushed, wasn't desperate in the way so many things in her life had been. It was good. It was real.

It was exactly what she needed after years of hell.

Her fingers threaded through his gray hair, tugging him closer, their bodies pressed together, warm and slick with sweat as he whispered her name against her lips, his voice breathless, reverent, "Ruby...fuck..." He groaned, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. She was tempted to lean forward and bite him back, "You're...fuck, you're amazing. You're so-"

"S-Stop talking! Just keep g-going-!" She grit her teeth as he bottomed out again.

Richard's movements grew faster and more frantic, his rhythm still controlled but steadily unraveling as the heat between them built higher and higher. His breath came in ragged pants against her neck, his body tense with the effort to hold on, to make this last, but Ruby could feel it - the way he was losing himself in it, the way his fingers dug into her hips just a little harder, the way his thrusts became just a little more desperate.

She was right there with him.

Her nails dragged along his back, her legs tightening around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, her body arching into every movement. She could feel the sweat beading on his skin, feel the heat rolling off him in waves, feel every inch of him sliding in and out of her, stretching her, filling her in a way that had her mind spinning, her nerves tingling, her breath coming in uneven gasps. It wasn't the picture-perfect sex she saw in all those videos. It was raw, clumsy, and desperate.

And she loved it all the more.

She could feel everything. The way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, the heat radiating from his skin, the deep, heavy weight of him as he filled her over and over again. Her body arched into his, her breaths turning to soft, stuttered gasps as pleasure built with every deep stroke, every shift of his hips against hers.

The bed creaked beneath them, the air thick with heat and the scent of sweat, their bodies tangled together in a way that felt natural, familiar, like they had always been meant to fit this way. Ruby's hands slid up his back again, pulling him closer, urging him to go faster. He groaned against her throat, his lips trailing along her collarbone, his hands gripping her hips just a little tighter, holding her in place as he drove into her with more force, more intent.

Her mind was hazy, completely lost in sensation.

She knew - she knew - this was a bad idea. She wasn't on any kind of birth control, and he wasn't wearing any protiection. She should care about that. She should. But with the way he was moving, the way her body was thrumming with pleasure, she couldn't bring herself to stop. She couldn't bring herself to say no, not when she was so close, not when he was right there with her, panting against her skin, whispering her name like a prayer.

His movements grew erratic, rougher, his grip tightening as he buried himself inside her again and again, chasing the inevitable climax. Ruby could feel cock throbbing inside her, feel the way his muscles tensed, the way his breaths turned into broken groans against her skin.

She barely had time to register what was happening before he let out a deep, shuddering gasp, his hips pressing flush against hers as he spilled inside her, warmth flooding deep within her as his entire body tensed above her.

Ruby gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he held her tight, pressing his forehead against hers, his breath heavy, uneven, his body trembling from the force of his release. The force of his ejaculation painted her inner walls white, and she shut her eyes tight as she came too. Her loud, broken moan was interrupted when his lips pressed against her's in a desparate, hungry kiss. The two of them held each other close and refused to let each other go as he filled her to the brim with his seed.

It was only after the heat began to fade, after the haze started to lift, that reality really hit her.

Oh.

Oh no.

She exhaled, staring up at the ceiling as Richard slowly collapsed against her, his weight comforting, grounding, his arms still wrapped around her. His slowly deflating cock was still inside while their cum dripped down her lower lips onto the bed.

...

Weiss and Yang were going to kill her.

[line break]

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The sheets were a tangled mess, evidence of the night before, and Ruby lay in the middle of it, completely bare, her body still warm from sleep and the lingering heat of Richard's touch.

She felt good. A little sore, sure, but it was the satisfying kind of sore, the kind that came from pushing her body to its limits and enjoying every second of it. Stretching, she let out a slow breath, blinking up at the ceiling as last night's events replayed in her mind.

She'd popped her cherry with her childhood friend...and she let him finish inside her.

Ruby groaned softly, dragging a hand down her face. Okay, yeah, last night had been amazing - no regrets there - but she really needed to be smarter about this. She was a Huntress, she'd seen what happened when people were careless. She needed to take a morning after pill, now, before she started spiraling into what-ifs. Sighing, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stretching her arms before rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She just had to find her clothes, get dressed, and -

Before she could move, she felt warm hands wrap around her shoulders, slowly pulling her back against the firm, familiar heat of Richard's chest.

He was still half-asleep, his breath slow and deep against her skin, but that didn't stop him from trailing lazy kisses down her neck and between her shoulder blades, his lips soft and teasing, the beginnings of stubble stubble lightly scratching her sensitive skin, "Stay," he murmured, voice rough and husky from sleep.

Ruby sucked in a breath, her resolve flickering dangerously, "I really should go," she muttered, though it sounded weak even to her own ears. She didn't want to go yet. The pill was important, sure, but then she had to deal with a lecture from Weiss because she ditched and Yang teasing her about if she finally got lucky.

Richard hummed, his mouth moving lower, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades, then another, then another, his hands sliding down her arms, fingers tracing along her skin like he knew she was already having second thoughts, "Mmm, don't think you want to go," he murmured against her skin, his hands tightening around her waist, gently pulling her back toward him.

Ruby knew she should push him away. She knew she had things to do, that she needed to think about what last night meant, that she had responsibilities and that Weiss was going to kill her when she found out about all this.

But Brothers, his hands were so warm, his kisses so gentle, and the way he was holding her, the way his body pressed against her's-

With a defeated sigh, she let herself fall back against him, her back meeting the mattress once more as he rolled her over, a lazy, knowing grin on his face as he leaned down to kiss her. The morning after pill could wait, she thought.

She had no idea that she'd be staying for way longer than breakfast and that she'd be dealing with a new tagalong soon enough, but that was a problem for future Ruby. Present Ruby just closed her eyes and smiled dreamily as they readied themselves for round two.

Project: Fix Blake's Racism

Blake Belladonna prided herself on many things - her discipline, her intelligence, and her ability to remain composed under pressure. She had to. She ran away from home to join a terrorist group when she was twelve years old. She was trained by Adam Taurus on how to fight, taught from the first time she picked up a sword that the people they fought against wouldn't care about her age or innocence. To them, she was nothing more than a filthy animal that needed to be put down.

...

But if there was one thing she never thought she'd have to deal with, it was her own team mistakenly believing she was a raging racist.

It all started as a simple misunderstanding, really. Someone made an offhand comment about Faunus rights during lunch, and Blake, conditioned by years of navigating prejudice and personal history, had tensed up, her hands clenching into shaky fists. Not because she disagreed - oh no, far from it - but because she'd learned to keep a low profile. She wore a bow ever since she attended Beacon specifically so she wouldn't have to deal with these kinds of conversations.

Unfortunately, her teammates had noticed her stiff posture. And, because her teammates were them, they had drawn the worst possible conclusion.

Weiss, ever the blunt aristocrat (so much for that government reformation, Atlas), had given her a knowing look and muttered, "I see how it is."

Yang had squinted at her like she'd just been caught kicking a puppy.

And Ruby? Poor, sweet, innocent Ruby had gasped so hard she almost inhaled her sandwich.

Blake had thought they would let it go. She had hoped they would let it go. But of course, they hadn't. Which was why she was now sitting on a chair in Team RWBY's dorm room, staring up at her three teammates, who just uttered the words that would haunt her for the rest of her life, "Blake, we need to talk about your racism," Weiss said, legs crossed and utterly blind of the irony dripping from her in waves..

She blinked. Once. Twice, "What."

Yang crossed her arms, giving Blake a look that was equal parts concern and smug satisfaction, like an older sister who caught their sibling sneaking cookies from the jar, "Look, we've all noticed how weird you get whenever Faunus come up in conversation."

Weiss nodded sagely, "You go silent. You clench your fists. You refuse to engage. It's clear you have...strong feelings on the matter."

Blake's eye twitched, "I- "

Ruby, their darling leader, clasped her hands together and looked up at Blake with tearful silver eyes, as if begging her to change her wicked ways, "Blake, we're your friends. We can help you! You don't have to be this way!"

Blake stared. Her brain short-circuited. This couldn't be happening. This could not be happening, "I'm not- " she started, but Weiss cut her off with a solemn nod.

"We get it, Blake," Weiss said in the most condescending, 'I've-read-three-books-on-this-and-now-I'm-an-expert' voice imaginable, "You grew up in a place where these...beliefs were the norm. You probably never had someone to challenge them."

Blake clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth might crack. She told them she grew up in Mistral. She didn't have a choice. Weiss was Atlesian and both Yang and Ruby were Valeans (well, they lived in Patch, but that was a distinction without a difference, despite their claims to the contrary). Her only choice was Mistral or Vacuo, and at least she knew about Mistral's culture if someone started asking about her time back 'home'. Vacuo was practically ignored by the White Fang since the Vacuans hated everyone outside of their own equally.

"I promise you, that is not the case."

Weiss sighed, closing her eyes as if preparing herself for a noble speech, "Blake, I understand. You know I used to have my own prejudices, right? I grew up in Atlas as the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, raised with a certain perspective on Faunus." She put a hand on her chest, looking at Blake with condescending pity, "But I've changed. I learned to see past the ignorance and recognize my own flaws. And you can too."

Blake threw her hands up, "Oh, come on! I am NOT getting a lecture on prejudice from WEISS SCHNEE, of all people!"

Weiss looked mildly offended, "I don't see why not."

"Because!" Blake sputtered, gesturing wildly, "Because you're you! Because your family has a history of-! Because I'm not even-!" She stopped herself just short of outing her own secret, biting her lip so hard it almost bled.

Yang nodded solemnly, "Wow. Defensive much?"

"I am not defensive!" Blake snapped, her composure slipping. "I have nothing against Faunus! In fact, I think they're great! They're fantastic! Some of my best friends are Faunus!" Like Ilia. She'd understand why she had to leave her and everyone else without warning.

Weiss, Ruby, and Yang all exchanged deeply concerned glances that made her want to punch them all in the face. Even Ruby, "You just said the thing," Ruby whispered.

"What thing?" Blake asked, already regretting the question.

"'Some of my best friends are Faunus,'" Yang quoted, making finger quotes in the air. "That's, like, classic racist denial."

Blake's soul left her body, "I am a Faunus!" she wanted to scream. "I'm literally one of them! My parents ran a revolution for Faunus rights! My childhood best friend was a giant tuna with arms! HOW IS THIS HAPPENING?!"

But of course, she didn't say that. Blake took another deep breath. No, she had to be smart. She could talk her way out of this. She could convince them without exposing her secret to a girl who couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it (Ruby), someone who'd use her race as fodder for cat jokes (Yang), and the future CEO of Racism (Weiss), "Look," she said carefully. "I support Faunus. I just...don't always want to talk about it. It's a complicated subject."

Weiss nodded in understanding. "Of course. Bigotry is deeply ingrained in many cultures. Undoing that kind of thinking can take time. I know from personal experience."

"That is not what I meant."

Yang frowned, rubbing her chin. "Maybe we need to take action. Get you out of your comfort zone. Exposure therapy."

Blake's eyes widened in horror, "Please don't." She could see it now. The three of them taking her across Vale and trying to teach her lessons about equality and tolerance straight out of kid shows. Even the White Fang despised those, which was saying a lot.

Yang grinned, "Too late, Blakey."

Weiss straightened, "I have some excellent reading material on Faunus history and oppression." She paused, "Granted, those books try to paint it as a good thing, but beggars can't be choosers. Just please remember that it's not meant to be positive despite what the book claims."

Ruby clapped her hands, "Ooh! I can introduce you to some really nice Faunus! Maybe if you get to know them, you'll see they're just like us! That we're all just people!"

Blake buried her face in her hands, "I already know that."

"One step at a time," Weiss said soothingly, patting her back as if Blake were the world's dumbest child. She wanted to die. She wanted to die. She'd do it. She'd take Gambol Shroud and stab herself in the gut right in front of them. Then she'd take off her bow so the last thing they realized before the light left her eyes was that they were all morons and they killed her.

"Blake," Ruby said softly, taking her hand, "We care about you. And because we care, we won't give up on you."

Blake groaned into her hands, "Please do."

"Tomorrow," Yang announced, standing up, "We start Project 'Un-Racism Blake.'" Blake sobbed. Did the name have to suck too?

Weiss nodded in approval, "I'll prepare the literature."

Ruby beamed, "I'll set up some playdates!"

"And I'll get the drinks." Yang grinned.

Blake stared at them, then at the ceiling, as if asking some higher being why she was being punished. What did she do to deserve this? Was it running away from her loving parents? Joining a militant extremism group? Falling in love with a psychopath who unironically owned a katana and fedora? Because those were just innocent childhood mistakes. If whatever God was out there really held those against her, then they were a petty asshole.

Maid Jaune Question

Something to ask. Weiss is on for the next chapter of Maid Jaune, but I’m kind of torn on a specific type of smut. Given the premise, Femdom is the most obvious, but I wonder how far she’ll take it.

More specifically, insertion. There were ideas of Weiss summoning a dick with her Semblance and plowing Jaune’s back entrance and throat, but that might be a turn-off for people since so far it has been pretty ‘straight sex’, Jaune’s outfit aside. So I decided to just put it up to a vote.

Team Rizzless - Rusted Knight Omake, Part 2

Chapter 2...of 3. Yeah, this oneshot that became a twoshot is now a threeshot. I need to learn to pace myself better. Ah well.

[line break]

Jaune sat stiffly in the chair across from Professor - Headmistress, he reminded himself - Glynda Goodwitch's desk, his fingers digging into the armrests as if they were the only things anchoring him to reality. The words she'd spoken moments ago swirled in his mind, louder and more ridiculous every time he tried to make sense of them. He stared at her, expecting some kind of punchline, but all he got was her sharp, composed expression - the kind that always made students shut up and listen back at Beacon.

This wasn't a joke. Somehow, this insanity was real.

He inhaled sharply, "So, let me get this straight," he said slowly, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Men don't have Aura. Huntsmen don't exist. And Salem isn't trying to wipe out humanity anymore...she's trying to make a global harem of men?"

Glynda adjusted her glasses, her face unreadable, "That is...an oversimplification," she said in her usual clipped tone, "But essentially accurate."

Jaune blinked. He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a dry laugh, sharp and humorless. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if the universe would kindly explain what the hell was going on, "You've got to be kidding me," he muttered. But no one was laughing. Certainly not Glynda. He looked back at her, his brows furrowing as his disbelief gave way to frustration, "This has to be some kind of trick. A test. Something." He gestured wildly at the room around him, "Because there's no way this is real. There's no way you're real. You're trying to tell me I somehow ended up in a world where men are basically..." He struggled to find the right word, "Harem fodder?"

Glynda sighed, placing her riding crop on the desk with a measured movement, "I understand this is difficult to process, Mr. Arc. But I assure you, this is no trick. This is the reality of the world you are now in."

"Reality?" Jaune repeated, a sharp edge creeping into his voice, "You call this reality? My world was falling apart, people were dying, and Salem was leading an army of Grimm! And now you're telling me she's more interested in..." He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head, "What? Dinner dates and flowers?"

Glynda's lips tightened, her gaze flicking away for a moment before returning to him, "Salem's methods are...difficult to describe," she said carefully, "But her ambition remains the same. Control. Subjugation. And in this case, yes, she has decided that the male population is the key to her plans." She paused, "And no, Mr. Arc, she is not interested in 'dinner dates and flowers'. She is, to put it bluntly, thirstier than someone living in Vacuo. From what we've gathered, she hasn't had sex in countless milleniums. You can imagine how...desperate that makes someone."

Jaune groaned, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening, "This is insane," he muttered, "This is...it's a joke. It has to be a joke."

"I assure you, it is not," Glynda said, her tone softening slightly, "Though your arrival is certainly...unprecedented."

Jaune peeked up at her through his fingers, his brow furrowing, "What do you mean, 'unprecedented'?"

She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the edge of her desk, "Your existence here is an anomaly. A man with Aura, skilled in combat, capable of defeating trained Huntresses...naturally, this has drawn some attention." She squirmed slightly in her seat, "You must've noticed how the students reacted when you arrived. They don't know about your Aura yet, but I imagine it's only a matter of time until they do. As I said, this will cause a stir?"

Jaune stiffened, his mind racing as her words sank in, "What kind of stir?"

Glynda cleared her throat delicately, but her composure faltered just enough for him to notice the faint pink flush on her cheeks, "You are...unique," she said, her voice carefully measured, "Such traits are bound to...intrigue those around you."

Jaune stared at her, his frustration bubbling over into incredulous anger, "So what? Now I'm some kind of sideshow attraction? A freak people want to gawk at?" He was reminded of the Ever After again. Fairy tale caricatures pointing at him like he was the freak.

"That's not what I said," Glynda replied quickly, though her gaze flicked away again, "I only meant that your presence here is...remarkable."

"Remarkable," Jaune repeated bitterly, leaning back in the chair, "Great. Just what I needed. More people staring at me like I don't belong."

Glynda's gaze lingered on him for a moment, her expression unreadable, "I understand this is overwhelming, Mr. Arc. Jaune," she said softly, "But you must understand, this world has its own...dynamics."

"Dynamics?" Jaune's voice rose slightly, his disbelief returning full force, "You mean like Salem trying to turn the world into her personal dating show? Or the part where men don't have Aura, so everyone treats me like a Brothers damned unicorn?"

Glynda's lips pursed, and she adjusted her glasses again; a clear sign she was trying to maintain her composure, "I assure you, the situation is more nuanced than that."

"Nuanced?" Jaune let out another sharp laugh, dragging a hand through his hair, "Lady, I've seen my fair share of crazy, but this? This takes the cake. My whole world was falling apart because of Salem, and now you're telling me she's..." He trailed off, shaking his head, "No. No way. This has to be a dream. Or a nightmare." He suddenly remembered the Huntress he ran into down in Vale. How desperate she was to fuck him then and there...

Glynda shifted in her seat, her riding crop tapping lightly against the desk, "I suggest you take some time to acclimate, Mr. Arc. For now, you are safe here, and we will work to determine the best course of action for your...unique situation."

Jaune let out a huff, his frustration mounting, "Safe," he muttered, "Right. Safe in a world where everyone thinks I'm some kind of prize."

The Headmistress' cheeks flushed faintly again, but she quickly masked it with a curt nod, "If there is nothing else, Mr. Arc, you are free to remain here while we gather more information. But I must insist you refrain from further...altercations."

Jaune scoffed, standing and shooting her an incredulous look, "Maybe if people stop flirting with me while I'm trying to stop villains, I'll think about it." Apparently, Cinder Fall wasn't evil in this world. Yeah, bullshit. He didn't care what kind of insane multiverse this was, there was no universe where Cinder Fall wasn't a witch that deserved to be burned at the stake.

Glynda's expression faltered briefly, the corners of her lips twitching as if fighting a smile. She quickly regained her composure," You must be tired, Mr. Arc. Some rest will do you good." Jaune muttered something under his breath about "world's gone crazy" as he stood, his thoughts spinning wildly. If this was reality, he wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

As Jaune turned to leave the office, still muttering under his breath about how utterly insane this world was, Glynda cleared her throat sharply, making him pause mid-step. Her sudden shift in tone drew his attention back, and he turned to see her seated primly at her desk, her fingers interlocked as if she were considering her next move carefully. The faintest hint of pink still lingered on her cheeks.

"Mr. Arc," she began, her voice deliberately soft yet measured, "I understand you've been through a great deal. Being away from...everything you've known for so long must have been unimaginably difficult."

Jaune blinked at her, confused by the sudden shift in conversation, "Uh...yeah, I guess you could say that."

She nodded solemnly, adjusting her glasses even though they looked fine before, "I imagine it must be quite...lonely," she said carefully, her gaze meeting his, "After all this time...perhaps you could use some company. Someone to talk to. To...ease your burdens. Some rest, as I mentioned."

Jaune stared at her for a long moment, processing her words. Her tone was calm, almost professional, but there was something else there - something in the way her gaze lingered a second too long and the way her riding crop tapped nervously against her desk. He narrowed his eyes slightly. Oh, come on, "Right," he said flatly, crossing his arms, "And by 'company,' you mean... "

"Just company," Glynda interrupted quickly, though her voice had a noticeable hitch. She coughed delicately, sitting up straighter, "I only mean that it's important to...build connections. You've been alone for so long, and I would be remiss if I didn't offer you a chance to...decompress."

Jaune's eyebrows climbed higher, "Decompress," he repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism.

"Yes," Glynda said firmly, though the faint flush on her face betrayed her, "I assure you, it's purely for your benefit. After all, you've been through so much. Surely you deserve a moment to...relax."

Jaune sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was no stranger to people trying to manipulate him - Salem's puppets, lying merchants, and, of course, his older sisters when they needed favors. But this? Glynda wasn't even being subtle. It was painfully obvious what she was angling for. Still, he figured, if this wasn't even his Glynda Goodwitch, what harm was there? It wasn't like she knew him. Hell, he barely knew her. And his younger self (along with just about every gun on campus...) fantasized about Professor Goodwitch.

In the flattest, most unimpressed tone he could manage, Jaune asked, "Are you asking for sex?"

Glynda hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough to confirm the answer before she let out a soft breath, lifted her chin slightly, and said, "Yes."

Jaune continued staring at her, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged, "Fine. But no whips." It wasn't his Glynda, so why should he hesitate? She was just some crazy version living in a porno world where logic didn't apply.

Glynda frowned, narrowing her eyes slightly, "That's hardly a reasonable request."

Jaune raised a brow, "Not negotiable."

"It's merely an accessory," she said, adjusting her glasses again, "A tool for guidance. It's hardly- " Jaune turned toward the door, "Wait!" Her voice cracked slightly, her usual refined air slipping as Jaune reached for the handle.

She didn't just call out to him. No, she moved. Before he could fully register what was happening, Glynda Goodwitch - Beacon's ever-composed, strict, no-nonsense professor - dropped onto her hands and knees, her palms pressing against the floor as she practically crawled toward him. Her deep green eyes, usually sharp and scrutinizing, were wide with desperation, "Please, don't go!" she pleaded, her tone no longer authoritative but desperate, "I-I'll do anything! No whips! No accessories! Just stay!"

Jaune stared down at her in pure disbelief, "Do you have any pride?" he deadpanned.

Glynda swallowed, her fingers gripping the floor as she looked up at him with something that might have once been dignity but was now completely drowned out by thirst, "Not when it comes to this," she admitted, her voice soft and raw, "Please, Mr. Arc. I need this."

Jaune let out the longest, most exhausted sigh of his life, dragging a hand down his face, "This world is a mistake," he muttered. Glynda didn't move. She stayed there, hands trembling against the floor, her glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose. She looked pathetic. Not just thirsty, but dying of dehydration. And somehow, that was worse than any battle he had ever fought. He exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was preparing to take on a burden, "Fine," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Get up. You're embarrassing yourself."

Glynda practically beamed, rising to her feet so quickly she nearly stumbled. She cleared her throat, attempting to smooth her skirt and recompose herself, but the sheer excitement in her eyes made it clear that she had no shame left, "Excellent," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she pushed her glasses back into place, "I...I promise you won't regret this."

He just shook his head, resigned, "I already do."

Hours later, Jaune lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling with the same blank expression one might have after realizing they accidentally signed up for the wrong class and were too deep into the semester to drop it. His muscles ached pleasantly, and he had to admit: it felt good. But the satisfaction was minimal compared to the sheer insanity of everything that had led up to this moment. Decades in that fairy tale shithole and then ending up in this horny madcap version of Remnant.

Next to him, Glynda Goodwitch looked like she had just discovered the meaning of life.

Her golden hair, usually prim and neat, was a wild mess across the pillow. Her glasses were nowhere to be found, likely lost in the whirlwind of depravity that had unfolded. And her eyes - those sharp, calculating eyes - were now soft, unfocused, staring at nothing in particular while her mouth was raised in a slack-jawed, euphoric smile. The normally refined and composed professor looked less like a Huntress and more like a woman who had just ascended to a higher plane of existence.

Jaune sighed, "You good?" he asked flatly.

Glynda didn't immediately respond. She exhaled a long, slow breath, her body still faintly trembling. Then, after a moment, she turned her head to look at him, her expression somewhere between worship and stunned disbelief, "That was... my semblance doesn't even feel that strong," she whispered, her voice raw. Jaune didn't respond. He just stared at the ceiling, expression impassive. She swallowed, her hands twitching slightly as if she wanted to grab him but was too overwhelmed to function, "So, um," she licked her lips, voice hesitant, "A seventh round?"

Jaune blinked. Then he sat up, rubbing the back of his head with a sigh, "No."

Glynda's face fell, "But-" Jaune was already swinging his legs off the bed, grabbing his clothes from where they'd been violently discarded across the room. He started dressing with the efficiency of a man who had more important things to do - like figuring out how the hell he was going to survive in this deranged version of Remnant and maybe find a way back.

The headmistress propped herself up on one elbow, the blankets slipping down to reveal more of her bare, thoroughly ravaged body, "Are you sure?" she tried again, her voice dangerously close to pleading, "I mean, you're already here, and I-"

Jaune pulled on his shirt and turned toward the door without looking back, "No."

Glynda scrambled up onto her knees, grasping at the sheets as she tried to summon some of her usual commanding presence - tried being the keyword. The problem was, it was hard to look authoritative when you were very obviously still dazed from getting your soul rearranged (translation: just got fucked stupid), "Mr. Arc," she attempted, her voice still breathless but striving for control, "As your benefactor, I strongly encourage you to reconsider-"

Jaune reached the door, hand on the knob.

Glynda panicked and let out a squeak, "Please."

Jaune sighed again, shaking his head, "This world is insane," he muttered before stepping out and shutting the door behind him, leaving a completely ruined Glynda Goodwitch sitting alone in her disheveled bed, staring at the door with the expression of a woman who had just lost something truly precious. His first fuck in decades didn't feel nearly as mindblowing as it should've been. He blamed the rampanst PTSD. It had a way of ruining things.

He stepped out of Glynda's office, closing the door behind him with a finality that signaled he was done with whatever that was. The hallway was mercifully empty, save for the distant sounds of students moving about the academy. He exhaled, rubbing his temples as he tried to make sense of everything.

Then he heard a voice. His voice.

Jaune froze. Not in the way a soldier froze in fear on the battlefield, but in the way someone froze when they saw something that should not exist. Slowly, as if moving any faster would break reality itself, he turned his head toward the sound. Down the hall, standing in a casual little group near the entrance, was him. A younger, cleaner, and - frankly - happier looking version of himself. His 19-year-old self, still bright-eyed, still hopeful, still naive in all the ways that mattered.

And he wasn't alone.

Ruby stood beside him, chatting animatedly, hands moving as she spoke, her silver eyes shining with that familiar excitement she always had when talking about weapons or missions or some dumb idea she thought would be fun. She looked...the same. No trauma, no having to carry the world on her shoulders. Innocent.

And then there was Pyrrha. Jaune's breath caught in his throat. His heart clenched so violently that he almost staggered.

She was there. Alive.

She laughed softly at something the other Jaune said, her voice warm, whole, untouched by the horrors that had stolen her life far too early. She had the same kind, patient smile, the same confident posture, the same everything. The last time Jaune had seen her, she'd shoved him into that rocket locker and ran into a fight she knew she had no chance of winning. Even now, he still didn't understand why she'd done it. But now she was here. Talking. Laughing.

Living.

Jaune's fists clenched at his sides. His chest ached with something he didn't have words for - grief, longing, relief, pain - all crashing into him at once. He forced his breathing to steady, forced his mind to stop racing. What the hell was he supposed to do? Walk up to them? Tell them everything? Drop his problems onto their shoulders like some kind of burden? What good would it do? He wasn't their Jaune. Their Jaune was standing right there, smiling, unbroken.

Jaune closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Then he turned around.

'No. This isn't their problem. I'm not going to ruin this for them.'

Without another word, without looking back, Jaune walked away, his steps heavy with the weight of everything he couldn't say.

[line break]

Jaune - or as he was now known to the world, John (no last name) - had become a living legend on campus, and not for any of the reasons he might have expected. He wasn't famous for his skill with a blade, his years of battle experience, or his reputation as a veteran Huntsman. No, none of that mattered here. His notoriety had exactly one cause: He was the only man on Remnant with Aura.

That one fact alone had single-handedly transformed his life into an unending, exhausting parade of thirsty Huntresses who refused to let him live in peace. He had arrived only days ago, and already, Beacon had become an obstacle course of sexually aggressive warriors, all of them determined to be the first woman in history to experience what it was like to sleep with a man who had actual Aura. Students, teachers, and visiting Huntresses (who were suddenly VERY keen to 'inspect' Beacon's training ground) were losing their collective minds, the entire school practically vibrating with some kind of frenzied, carnal anticipation that only seemed to worsen by the day.

It had started innocently enough, just whispers in the halls, curious murmurs exchanged between students as they tried to confirm whether the impossible was actually true.

"Did you hear? That knight-looking guy actually has Aura!"
"No way. You're joking."
"I'm not! He fought like, four Huntresses at once and took them all down!"
"Oh my god, I'm so wet."

That was Day One.

By Day Two, the rumors had evolved into something even more ridiculous, exaggerated to the point that even Jaune would have found them funnyif he weren't constantly dodging Huntresses throwing themselves at him.

"I heard he's been training in secret for years."
"They say he's the last surviving male warrior of a forgotten kingdom."
"What if he's a prince? A lost heir to an ancient bloodline, hidden away until now?"
"What if he's secretly, like, a battle god? Sent to test our worthiness?"
"I'd let him test me."
"Same."
"Same."
"No, but like, seriously, I would let him do anything to me."

By Day Three, it was open season, and Jaune quickly realized that no matter how much battle experience he had, no matter how many fights to the death he survived, no amount of training could have prepared him for this. The only reason he hadn't left Beacon at all was because he knew trying to become a hermit in the woods wouldn't work. They had his scent now, and they'd track him down to the ends of Remnant.

Every single Huntress on campus, from first-years to final-years (at least first years were 19 in this universe...), had declared war on his personal space, and Jaune found himself spending most of his day evading their increasingly aggressive advances. Walking down the hall had turned into a nightmare of sidestepping, backpedaling, and occasionally full-on sprinting just to avoid a shameless proposition from yet another woman who didn't even bother pretending she was interested in anything other than getting him naked as quickly as possible.

He had just turned a corner when it happened again.

"John! Hi! How are you?" A student - tall, athletic, and radiating the kind of desperate energy he had come to recognize all too well - practically materialized in front of him with a bright, eager smile that was clearly trying to pass as casual but was just a little too wide and too forced. Jaune sighed, already bracing himself for what was coming next.

"Uh...fine?" he answered, only half-paying attention. He should've been brooding somewhere trying to find a way back home, but it was hard to even find the time. Every time he almost returned to that pit of despair, someone would interrupt with a come-on so blatant he was left floundering. He didn't know whether to feel grateful or annoyed that they wouldn't just let him angst in peace.

"That's great! Soooo...listen, I was just thinking," she played with a strand of her silver hair, tilting her head just enough to make it seem like this was all spontaneous and not something she had clearly planned in advance, "You're a guy. With Aura. And I'm a Huntress. And, you know, I never slept with a guy that has Aura." Or any guy period. From what he gathered, Huntresses in this universe couldn't get dick to save their lives. Literally Mostly because one Huntress pretended to need 'an infusion of Vitamin D' to stop herself from (fake) dying once a decade back and now all the guys caught on.

He already knew where this was going, "...And?"

She leaned in, her voice practically dripping with suggestion as she purred, "Wanna change that?"

Jaune didn't even break stride as he smoothly sidestepped her attempt to block his path, completely uninterested in indulging whatever scenario she had cooked up in her head, "Pass."

The audible gasp she let out sounded like he had just personally destroyed her entire worldview, "Wait, WHAT?!" she cried, as if she couldn't fathom the idea of being rejected. She was playing it up, of course. She'd been rejected probably dozens of times before now.

Jaune didn't acknowledge her reaction, nor did he slow down, because if he did, he knew exactly what would happen next. Unfortunately, it didn't stop the next Huntress from taking a different approach: literally vaulting over the damn railing from the second floor window with an absurd aerial stunt that had no practical reason to exist outside of trying to get his attention, "Hey there, Handsome~" She grinned, flipping her hair dramatically as she slid into a perfect landing in front of him, her red eyes glinting with mischief, "So...wanna spar? Maybe wrestle a bit? Get all sweaty and tangled up in each other?"

Jaune, barely looking at her, let out the most exhausted sigh of his life, "You don't want to spar."

She smirked, stepping closer with the kind of predatory confidence that she probably thought was irresistible, "Oh, but I do. I just think the spar should take place in bed."

"Pass."

She blinked, "W-Wait, hold on, you didn't even think about it! Wait!"

Jaune kept walking. He didn't have the time. Unfortunately, it seemed today was a particularly aggressive day for his admirers, because no sooner had he escaped one situation than another arose. This time, he barely had time to react before yet another Huntress - Ciel Soleil, he recalled vaguely - practically threw herself in front of him with no preamble, her expression completely serious, "You and me. Storage closet. Right now."

Jaune, without missing a beat, didn't even slow down as he effortlessly sidestepped her like she was just another obstacle on a battlefield.

And this was just the students. The teachers weren't any better.

Several professors had taken notice of him, though none had been more blatant than one particular combat instructor who had all but cornered him after class, her arms crossed, expression unreadable save for the undeniable glint of interest in her eyes, "John," she had said, her voice smooth but carrying an unmistakable weight of expectation, "You are an impressive fighter, but perhaps your stamina could use some additional training."

Jaune had simply stared at her, waiting for the inevitable follow-up.

"Come to my office after hours," she continued, her gaze flicking down his frame, "We'll test your endurance properly."

Jaune blinked slowly, "Aren't teachers supposed to be professional?" he asked dryly.

She didn't so much as flinch, "I am a professional, John," she had answered coolly, "This is simply advanced training."

Jaune had turned and walked out immediately.

Now, several days in, his patience was running dangerously thin. Every hour of every day, it was the same thing: Huntresses throwing themselves at him, grabbing at him, trying to drag him off somewhere secluded. He could dodge Grimm, he could outfight the most dangerous enemies, but this? This was a war he couldn't win. By the time he finally reached the cafeteria, exhaustion weighing down his limbs, he was done. He just wanted food. A moment of peace.

"Hey, handsome. Wanna spear me with that sword?"

...

Jaune slammed his head through the table.

[line break]

Jaune could handle a lot of things. He had faced war, despair, and loss beyond what most could comprehend. He had watched friends die, had carried the weight of a broken world on his shoulders, had survived battles that should have killed him a dozen times over. He had seen hell - lived through it, fought his way out of it.

The worst part wasn't even the random strangers throwing themselves at him with reckless abandon. It wasn't the absurd amount of times he had to physically dodge a Huntress trying to pounce on him from a blind spot. It wasn't even the professors who had seemingly abandoned all sense of professionalism the moment they realized what he was packing - both in terms of Aura and physique.

No, the worst part was the people he actually knew.

Or at least, versions of them.

Because somehow, somehow, this world had counterparts for nearly everyone from his past life, and they were, without exception, completely insane.

Ruby, to his immediate relief, was at least somewhat normal. Or as normal as she could be in this reality. She was dating the Jaune of this dimension - who was the school nurse instead of a Huntsman, given the lack of male Aura users. At first, the idea of a nurse version of himself had baffled Jaune, but after everything else he had seen, it barely even registered as odd anymore. At least she wasn't trying to throw herself at him like everyone else was.

Pyrrha, bless her soul, was the same way, likely because she was also dating this world's Jaune...and Ruby. Apparently, it was a polyamorous relationship. Good for them. Seeing her alive again had nearly made him collapse on the spot, but he had forced himself to keep his distance. He refused to drag her into his problems. She was happy here. That was enough.

Everyone else, though?

Complete. Utter. Embarrassing. Cringe.

Yang, predictably, was one of the worst offenders. Somehow, she had managed to take her usual flirtatious bravado and crank it up to a hundred, completely obliterating the already fine line between a pick-up line and a direct threat of bodily harm. Every interaction with her felt like he was either going to get seduced or get suplexed. Probably both, given the way she spoke.

"Hey, Big Guy, I know you've been dodging all the ladies, but why don't you take on a real challenge?" She grinned, cracking her knuckles like she was about to beat him into the floor, her sharp eyes gleaming with something deeply unsettling, "I promise I'll go easy on you...at least at first. But-" She leaned in, voice dropping to a sultry growl, "-if you can still walk tomorrow, then I didn't do my job right."

Jaune had turned right the fuck around and walked out the door before she could get another word in.

And then there was Blake.

Jaune had never met someone who was so insufferably dramatic about sex before. Somehow - somehow - Blake had turned her desperate need to get laid into a Mistralian tragedy. Every conversation with her sounded like it was ripped straight from the pages of some horribly written, overly poetic romance novel, and Jaune was so goddamn tired of it.

"You don't understand, Jaune," she had sighed one evening, staring into the distance like she was reliving a thousand lifetimes of sorrow and angst, "I've been alone for so long, lost in the shadows of my own regrets, yearning for a light to guide me back. Perhaps...perhaps you could be that light?" She looked up at him with those big amber eyes, cat ears twitching. Apparently, Faunus racism wasn't a thing in this universe. It was replaced with not liking the constant gooning instead.

"...I'm not having sex with you because you think it's some kind of mystical redemption arc," he had said flatly.

She gasped like he'd just stabbed her, eyes wide with dramatic despair, "Jaune...please..." she whispered, reaching for his hand, "Don't let me drown in this endless night...You can save me. All you have to do is take those pants off and vanquish the darkness with your long, hard swo-"

Jaune turned and left. Blake literally threw herself onto the ground behind him in some kind of staged, theatrical collapse, sobbing into her sleeve like she was in the third act of a play about a doomed love affair.

He'd never walked away faster in his life.

But as bad as Yang and Blake were, they paled in comparison to Weiss.

Jaune had never met a woman so personally offended by the fact that she had not been the first to sleep with him (because of course, the other Huntresses could tell their Headmistress got some dick). Apparently, in her mind, she'd already won that right before he ran off to fight Cinder, and now she was in a state of constant, unhinged fury that she'd missed her chance. As far as she was concerned, fate had personally slighted her with that.

He couldn't go one day without Weiss storming up to him, seething, her hands trembling in frustration as she declared, "It should have been ME!" with all the indignation of a fallen noble demanding retribution.

"You can't just sleep with someone else first!" she raged at him just yesterday, her hands balled into shaking fists as she stomped after him in the hallway, "You dragged me into that alley! You were going to take me to a hotel! We had an understanding! I was supposed to be your first! Do you have any idea how insulting it is to be cast aside like some common strumpet?!" She stomped her foot, "If you're going to treat me like a worthless whore, at least fuck me like it!"

Jaune, who hadn't dragged her anywhere (and had, in fact, been entirely unaware that she had interpreted their brief encounter as some kind of binding contract of sexual conquest), completely ignored her, refusing to dignify her delusions with a response.

It didn't stop her.

"Finish what you started and fuck me like I'm your favorite cock warmer!" she had screamed after him, in the middle of the hallway. In public. While multiple students turned to stare at them.

Jaune had stared at her, absolutely bewildered, "Are you hearing yourself right now?" he asked, utterly done with whatever this was.

"Yes!" Weiss had shouted, stomping her foot, "Now come back here and take responsibilty!"

Jaune left. Weiss had thrown a full tantrum in the middle of the hall, physically kicking the air like a child, shrieking that he was "a faithless bastard!"

That had been three days ago, and Weiss hadn't calmed down. She was still throwing occasional fits, still glaring at him every time he walked past, still muttering about how he had ruined everything by sleeping with someone else first.

A part of him almost found it funny. If he'd been taken here back when he first arrived in Beacon, he was sure he would've loved it. Back then, he was just a stupid kid too lazy to even work for his dream and wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd spent weeks - maybe months, he couldn't even remember anymore - pining after Weiss because of some sarcastic comment she made about finding him attractive. Younger Jaune would've loved this place. It was like every harem fantasy he ever dreamed up had come to life.

And now, it felt like an ironic nightmare.

[line break]

Jaune had fought in wars. He had battled against impossible odds, faced down monstrous creatures, and survived against forces that should have torn him apart a hundred times over. He had slain monsters. He had endured suffering beyond human comprehension. He had seen kingdoms burn, witnessed the depths of despair, and clawed his way out of hell itself with nothing but sheer determination, rusted armor, and a broken sword.

But nothing - nothing - could have prepared him for the sheer, unstoppable force that was a horde of desperate Huntresses who had just been given permission to ravage him.

It had started as an act of surrender. He had spent days dodging, rejecting, escaping, and outmaneuvering them, but it had become clear that this was not a fight he could win. Every hallway, every classroom, every training session, they were there. Watching him, circling him, waiting for a moment of weakness. It was relentless. They were relentless. He couldn't train without someone whispering increasingly concerning things into his ear. He couldn't eat without someone sitting uncomfortably close and tracing their fingers along his arm like a predatory animal. He couldn't even go to sleep without some Huntress 'accidentally' finding their way into his room past his triple-locked door.

So, fine. If this was his fate, so be it. He had been through worse. Surely, he reasoned, this wouldn't be the hardest thing he'd ever endured. It was sex. Sex felt good, right? It felt good when he did it with Glynda, at least.

He was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

Jaune didn't realize the true magnitude of his mistake until he woke up after the first night, barely able to move. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, the kind of deep, bone-weary exhaustion that no amount of Aura could immediately fix. He was drained in ways he didn't even think were possible. His arms, which had held his sword and shield for years, now trembled when he tried to lift them. His legs, which had carried him across battlefields, felt like they had turned into jelly. His throat was raw from things he didn't even remember saying and doing. He had fought Grimm the size of buildings and emerged stronger. This?

This was something else entirely.

It didn't stop. The problem wasn't just the sheer physical toll; though that alone was horrific. No, the real problem was that for every Huntress he had satisfied, ten more were waiting their turn. Jaune had lost count of how many women had passed through his room. Had it been ten? Twenty? Had he even left the room? Or had he just been dragged into an endless, rotating cycle of thirst?

He had no idea anymore.

He tried to tell them he needed rest, that the mind was (reluctantly) willing but the flesh was spongy and weak, but the response was always the same: mocking laughs, teasing grins, hands grabbing at him, voices whispering about how he was the only man on Remnant who could keep up with them. The only man with Aura. He was their equal.

Except he wasn't.

Aura had kept him going longer than any normal man should have lasted, but in the end, even Aura had its limits. He had reached the breaking point. His spirit remained strong, but his flesh was weak - literally. He was somehow both spongy and dry like a raisin; a horrific combination that shouldn't have existed. His body felt like it had been hollowed out and left to dry in the sun. His soul was hanging on by a thread.

And yet, they still weren't satisfied.

"Come on, John, don't pass out yet," Yang had grinned, slamming a hand against his sore, aching back. He nearly collapsed then and there, "You're a big guy, right? You can handle a little more, can't you? I mean, you're still walking! That means I'm not done yet!"

Blake had traced her fingers along his barely functioning chest and murmured, "You've brought me this far into the light...surely, you won't leave me in the darkness now?" Even in his bone-weary state, he cringed. It was awful.

Weiss, furious that she had 'only' gotten three rounds with him so far, had crossed her arms and glared at him like he had personally insulted her entire family line, "I demand that you finish what you started, John! I have been waiting for days! I will not be satisfied till I'm half-passed out choking on your dick while cum pours down my throat! Now get it hard and shove it down my throat again!" You can't just lay there like a corpse!" She slapped his thigh, "John!"

He was a corpse. A man who had flown too close to the sun and been incinerated in the fires of thirst. If he could go back in time, he would've gone back not to stop Cinder, but to slap his teenage self upside the head for ever thinking that his harem fantasies were 'awesome'. Cause they weren't. They were desperate, grabby, and thought they were better than every other woman that demanded his attention. The fantasy of them all sharing because he was just that great was something that could never come true.

The Huntresses didn't stop. Jaune lay on his bed, barely clinging to consciousness, staring blankly at the ceiling. He'd managed to get away for some alone time, but he knew it wouldn't last lopng. His body ached in ways he didn't even have words for. His mind was shattered, his soul hollowed out like a man who had wandered too deep into an abyss and realized, far too late, that there was no way back.

He had made a mistake. One that he needed to fix if he wanted any chance to survive.

[line break]

Jaune had spent years devising plans on the battlefield, crafting strategies under pressure, and adapting to the chaos of war. He wasn't a General like Ironwood or a natural-born leader like Ruby, but he was something that was arguably just as important: he was a survivor.

But this - the constant, unrelenting assault by the Huntresses of Beacon - was pushing him to the brink.

He couldn't keep up. He physically could not keep up. Aura could heal his wounds, could mend broken bones, could keep him fighting when all reason said he should be dead, but it didn't make him inexhaustible. He could keep going longer, push himself farther, but Huntsmen weren't immortal. Even they needed breaks. And these Huntresses? They didn't stop, they didn't tire. They were limitless. They always demanded more.

And so, he came up with a plan. A desperate, last-ditch, life-saving plan. The Vytal Festival Tournament. He'd heard it mentioned in passing. The massive competition between the best teams from each kingdom, a chance for students to test their skills against one another in front of a global audience. Just like it was back home. The moment he learned about it, a single thought took root in his exhausted, overused, thoroughly destroyed mind:

'This is my chance.'

He needed a distraction. He needed a way to delay the hordes of Huntresses clawing at his soul. He needed something - anything - to make them focus on something other than trying to ride him to an early grave.

And so, he made the announcement.

Standing atop one of the platforms in the arena training hall, microphone in hand, voice hoarse and dead inside, he delivered his final gambit, "The Vytal Festival Tournament is coming up," he said, eyes sweeping across the assembled Huntresses of Beacon. The students, the professors - all of them were present. They always showed up when he spoke, waiting - hoping - that this time, he would finally give in and take them all at once.

They were insatiable, and he was on the verge of death. This was his last chance Jaune took a deep breath, steadying himself, then delivered the bait.

"Whichever team wins the tournament...gets me. Exclusively."

The moment the words left his lips, the entire school descended into chaos. A sound unlike anything he had ever heard erupted across the campu. A mix of shrieks, gasps, and battle cries as the Huntresses lost their Brothers damned minds.

The implications of his words hit them all at once. A monopoly on Jaune Arc (or rather, John with no last name). An uncontested claim over the only man with Aura. A chance to own what every Huntress in Beacon - and likely the whole of this crazy world - was fighting tooth and nail for.

And every single one of them immediately declared war.

"WE HAVE TO TRAIN! TEAM MEETING, NOW!"

"IF YOU THINK YOU'RE TAKING HIM FROM ME, YOU'RE DEAD!"

"I SWEAR TO THE SISTERS, I'LL TEAR YOU APART, YANG!"

"FUCK YOU, WEISS, HE'S MINE!"

"TRAINING! NON-STOP TRAINING! NO SLEEP UNTIL WE WIN!"

"NO MERCY! NO SURVIVORS!"

Across the courtyard, fights broke out instantly. Friendships shattered. Alliances crumbled. Women who had fought side by side, who had considered each other sisters-in-arms, now stood as enemies. Jaune had never seen anything like it. Even when Ironwood had gone crazy, the sides weren't so cleanly split. Despite his announcement that the team who won would get rights to him, he could already see teammates giving each other side-eyes. Yang and Weiss were only the loudest of the declaration.

Beacon descended into complete, unhinged madness.

The students immediately threw themselves into brutal, grueling, inhuman training regimens. The professors, barred from competing in the tournament, raged in impotent frustration, unable to claim him for themselves. He knew some of them would try regardless, but he'd deal with that when the time came.

The scene across the training hall was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Yang shattered a training dummy with her bare hands, screaming about how she was gonna 'win that DILF ass'.

Blake vanished into the shadows, muttering about how she would win by any means necessary and be 'pulled from the darkness'.

Weiss ordered a customized combat strategy tailored specifically to counter Yang, Pyrrha (which was pointless, since she and Ruby couldn't give less of a care if they tried), and any other potential threat, her obsession burning hotter than ever.

Velvet began stockpiling weapons and military-grade armaments. Because if it meant winning him, there was no such thing as overkill.

Cinder (who he'd been steadfastly ignoring the whole time he was at Beacon) clenched her fists, her eyes burning while the metal dummies around her heated orange. Emerald (that Cinder simp) and Coco were nowhere to be seen.

The only three who weren't struck by the madness were Ruby, Pyrrha, and Nora (who was actually dating Ren in this universe, good for them). The trio looked at the crazed Huntresses with varying expressions before they looked at him with sympathy. Even Nora. Jaune just sighed and reminded himself that this was the lesser evil.

It was hell.

...But it wasn't his hell. For the first time since arriving in this world, Jaune slept soundly that night, free from the relentless pursuit of Huntresses. They were all too focused on training and scheming, desperate to be the winners, to interrupt him. Even the most thirsty, desperate Huntress understood the value of a long-term committment over a desperate fling. His locks remained mercifully unpicked and unbroken, his door hinges still whole. Jaune pulled the blankets up to his chest and, for the first time since he got here, had a good night's sleep.

...

Of course, he had no idea what he had truly unleashed.

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Next chapter will be the last. Let's see how insane this gets.

Cafe D'Arc - Maid Jaune, Chapter 2

Next chapter of Maid Jaune. The smut ended up being different than I imagined, but oh well, it works out for now. And it contrasts the next chapter.

[line break]

Jaune barely had time to process the fact that Pyrrha had carried him through the streets of Vale like a bridal sack of potatoes before she barged into a hotel lobby, ignored the startled clerk's sputtering greeting, and stomped straight to the elevator. His protests had long since devolved into incoherent sputters as he hung limply over her shoulder, his cheeks burning with humiliation. The swish of his skirt with every step only made it worse.

When the elevator dinged and she marched into a room, Jaune expected her to finally explain herself - yell at him, lecture him, anything to justify the bizarre kidnapping. Instead, she set him down on the edge of the bed with surprising gentleness. He stared up at her, his frazzled mind scrambling for some explanation as to why his partner was acting like this.

"Okay," Jaune began cautiously, his hands clutching his skirt to stop them from shaking, "Pyrrha, can you please tell me what's going on? Why did you - "

Before he could finish, Pyrrha dropped to her knees. Not in the defeated, apologetic way he might have expected, but in a way that made his brain short-circuit completely. She clasped her hands together, her emerald eyes wide and almost shimmering as she leaned forward.

"Jaune, please, please, please, let me-" She hesitated, her face somehow going redder as her voice dropped into a pleading whine, "Let me sleep with you while you're wearing that outfit!"

Jaune froze, every thought screeching to a halt, "I...what?!"

"You don't understand!" Pyrrha shouted, her voice rising with desperation as she threw any sense of shame to the wind, "When I heard about you in the maid outfit, it...it awakened something in me! I haven't been able to think about anything else!" She clutched at her chest as if the sheer force of her feelings might burst out of her, "You look so pretty, Jaune! And-" Her gaze darted to his thigh-high socks, and she bit her lip, "It's driving me insane!"

Jaune stared at her, utterly speechless, as his brain tried and failed to reconcile the image of the composed, graceful Pyrrha Nikos with the red-faced, desperate woman currently begging at his feet, "I-I don't- what are you talking about?!"

"Please!" Pyrrha pressed on, ignoring his protests entirely. She shuffled closer, her knees brushing against his shoes, "I'll do anything! I'll pay for whatever you want! Dinner, new weapons, extra training sessions- anything! Just let me-" Her voice cracked slightly, and she covered her face with her hands, peeking through her fingers like she couldn't bear to look directly at him, "-let me have you in the outfit!"

Jaune's mouth opened and closed like a fish, but no words came out. His hands gripped the hem of his skirt tighter as he stared down at her, completely overwhelmed, "Pyrrha, you're...you're not making any sense!" he finally managed, his voice cracking with equal parts panic and disbelief. He didn't know what to expect when Pyrrha just hauled him off like a potato sack, but it definitely wasn't her begging to sleep with him while he was dressed up as a maid!

"I know it sounds crazy!" Pyrrha cried, looking up at him with an expression of raw, unfiltered need, "But you have no idea how much this is killing me, Jaune! Every time I close my eyes, I see you in that dress, holding a tray, looking so...so..." She trailed off, her voice trembling as she took a deep breath, "I need this, Jaune. I'm begging you. Please. Just this once. For me! Just the tip! I promise, it'll be just the tip!" Wasn't that what the guy said?!

Jaune could only gape at her, his face burning so hot he swore he could hear his brain sizzling. His mouth moved soundlessly, his mind spinning like a broken record. This had to be some kind of fever dream. There was no way Pyrrha, his partner, the Invincible Girl, was on her knees, begging him to-

"I'll even wear something if you want!" Pyrrha cut in desperately, clearly oblivious to the internal meltdown unfolding in front of her, "A maid outfit, a battle dress, whatever makes it fair! You name it! I'll do it!" She clasped her hands together again, leaning forward until her forehead almost rested on his lap, "Jaune," she whispered, her voice soft and trembling, "Please say yes."

Jaune stared down at Pyrrha, who was still on her knees in front of him, her face redder than he'd ever seen it, her hands clutching his knees like a lifeline. She looked like she was about to combust on the spot, her breathing erratic, her wide green eyes darting everywhere except his face. He frowned, utterly baffled. What was going on? Why was she acting so weird? And why, for the love of all things holy, had she dragged him out of work like some kind of maniac for this?

Then it hit him.

"Oh," he said, nodding as realization dawned on him, "Ohhhh, now I get it."

Pyrrha's head snapped up, her eyes wide as saucers, "Y-You do?" she croaked, her voice high-pitched and shaky. She sounded almost relieved. Well, as relieved as someone could sound while still looking like they were about to pass out.

Jaune nodded again, his confusion vanishing as everything fell neatly into place in his mind, "Yeah. It makes total sense now." Pyrrha let out a strange noise, halfway between a gasp and a hiccup, and she gripped his knees even tighter. Jaune, seeing her shaking hands and strained expression, smiled warmly. It was so obvious, he thought. She should've just asked him instead of being a weirdo and kidnapping him like some crazy stalker.

Oh well, they were here now.

"You're just sexually frustrated, right?"

Pyrrha froze, her whole body going rigid. Jaune, however, was on a roll now, his mind whirring as he pieced together the obvious solution, "You've been under so much stress lately," he said, the very picture of calm understanding "You've got Beacon training, tournaments, homework, and everything else. It's no wonder you're at your wit's end. And, you know, it's perfectly normal to feel this way. It's not like you're in love with me or anything crazy like that." He laughed and rubbed the back of his head, "You're just, uh, looking for a way to blow off some steam. And since we're partners, it's natural you'd think to ask me for help!"

Pyrrha let out a strange choking noise, her mouth opening and closing like she was trying to speak but couldn't quite form the words. Jaune frowned slightly, tilting his head.

"Wow, you're really flustered about this, huh?" he said, giving her a reassuring smile, "It's okay, Pyrrha. I totally get it. You don't need to be embarrassed." He patted her shoulder lightly.

Pyrrha's hands twitched against his knees, her face somehow managing to grow even redder. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before she managed to stammer out, "R-right. That's...That's it."

Jaune's smile brightened, his confidence surging. He knew he was right! "See? That's all it is. No big deal! You just needed someone to talk to. Or, uh, I guess, more than talk to." He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, "I mean, it's not like this is some kind of romantic thing or anything. This is just a...partner thing." Pyrrha made another strangled noise, and Jaune noticed her hands trembling. He frowned again, concern flickering across his face, "Are you okay? You look like you're about to pass out."

"I'm fine!" Pyrrha squeaked, her voice cracking. She quickly cleared her throat, her eyes darting anywhere but at him, "I-I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just...you're right. It's a partner thing. Partners do this all the time. That's why it's not weird for you to say yes!"

"Exactly!" Jaune said, nodding firmly, "That's what partners are for: helping each other out in times of need."

Pyrrha's breathing hitched again, and Jaune took it as a sign that she was finally calming down, "Well, I'm glad I could help, even if it's just understanding where you're coming from," he said with a smile, "Do you feel better now?"

Pyrrha made a muffled noise, her face buried in her hands as her whole body trembled. Jaune figured she was probably just overwhelmed by relief. That made sense. It must've been hard for her to bring this up in the first place. He patted her shoulder again, feeling oddly proud of himself for being such an understanding partner.

"Good!" he said cheerfully, "Glad we got that cleared up. See? Communication is key."

Pyrrha peeked up at him from behind her hands, her expression a confusing mix of emotions that Jaune chalked up to residual embarrassment. He gave her another encouraging smile, completely oblivious to the way her hands dug into his knees like she was hanging on for dear life.

"All right, partner," he said, crossing his arms and nodding decisively, "What do you want to do next? You're the one who needs some, uh, relief," Pyrrha let out another choking noise, and Jaune blinked at her in confusion, "Uh...are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

She nodded weakly, her voice barely a whisper, "Y-Yeah. I'm fine."

Jaune shrugged, satisfied with her response. 'Man', he thought, 'Being a good partner is exhausting. But hey, at least I handled this pretty well.'

His chest puffed out with a newfound sense of duty as he looked down at Pyrrha. If she needed him, he wasn't going to shy away, no matter how awkward or weird this was. Being a good partner means going above and beyond, he thought with determination. Pyrrha was clearly at her limit, and it was up to him to help her out of this bind. That was what partners were for, right?

"So," Jaune said, clasping his hands together and smiling brightly, "What do you want me to do to help you, Pyrrha? Just say the word!"

Pyrrha froze, her wide green eyes staring up at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Her face, already impossibly red, somehow managed to darken even further till he worried she would faint from heatstroke,. She gulped audibly, her gaze darting between his face and his maid outfit as she fidgeted nervously, "I, uh..." Pyrrha's voice was barely above a whisper, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She shifted slightly, her eyes flicking to the bed before she hesitantly scooted back and sat down, her legs crossed primly. Her entire posture screamed tension as she clasped her hands in front of her, her thumbs nervously rubbing against each other.

Jaune tilted his head, his expression encouraging, "It's okay, Pyrrha. You can ask me anything. I'm here to help."

Pyrrha swallowed again, her throat bobbing visibly. Her lips parted, and for a moment, it looked like she was going to back out entirely. But then her eyes darted to his thigh-highs again, and a fresh wave of determination washed over her face. She took a deep breath, her voice trembling as she finally spoke, "C-Call me...Mistress," she stammered, her voice cracking slightly. She quickly cleared her throat and added, "With a high-pitched voice. L-Like you did earlier."

Jaune blinked, "Call you Mistress?" he repeated, his tone curious but not judgmental. Whatever helped her deal with her problems.

"Yes!" Pyrrha blurted, sitting up straighter as her hands gripped her skirt tightly, "I mean, yes, please. If you don't mind. It's...part of the relief. For me."

Jaune nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful, "Huh. I guess that makes sense. It's not too different from the role-playing stuff I do at work." He stood a little straighter, adjusting his skirt as he prepared himself, "All right. You got it, Pyr!" He clasped his hands in front of him, tilted his head slightly, and smiled brightly, "What can I do for you today, Mistress~?" he chirped, his voice rising into the same high-pitched tone he'd practiced so much at the cafe. It actually felt a lot less awkward now that he was doing it to help his partner instead of random strangers.

Pyrrha visibly shuddered, her shoulders trembling as she covered her mouth with one hand. Her green eyes widened as she stared at him, her pupils dilating slightly. Her breath hitched, and a soft, almost inaudible whimper escaped her lips. Jaune took the reaction as a good sign, "Hey, I think I'm doing it right!" he said, his pitched voice full of pride. He stood a little taller, still keeping his hands clasped and his head tilted in what he thought was an elegant pose, "Does that help, Mistress?"

Pyrrha's hand dropped to her lap, and she nodded stiffly, her face an unreadable mix of emotions that Jaune interpreted as relief, "Y-yes," she croaked, her voice shaky, "That...That's very good."

Jaune beamed, pleased with his performance, "Great! Let me know if there's anything else you want me to do! I'm all in!" Pyrrha let out another soft whimper, her hands trembling as they gripped her skirt tightly. She looked like she was about to say something, but the words didn't seem to come. Jaune tilted his head again, his bright smile unwavering, "Anything at all, Mistress!" he added cheerfully, "I'm here to make sure you feel better!"

He tilted his head as he watched Pyrrha nervously fidget on the bed. Her face was impossibly red, and she looked like she was barely holding herself together. He didn't quite get it. What had her so flustered? He was just helping her out as a good partner should. She didn't need to make it such a big deal. Heck, she was the one who kidnapped him and begged for it! It was pretty weird that she was being so shy about it now.

Pyrrha gulped audibly, her trembling hands clutching the hem of her skirt as her emerald eyes darted up to meet his. She shuddered, her breath coming in shallow gasps, before finally speaking, "I...I want you to..." Her voice trailed off, and she visibly steeled herself before forcing the words out, "D-dominate me. Gently. A-As foreplay."

Jaune blinked, "Dominate you?" he repeated, his tone curious rather than judgmental, "Like, uh, in those romance movies?"

Pyrrha nodded, her face practically glowing red, "Y-yes," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, "I mean, i-if you don't mind. I know it's a lot to ask..."

Jaune scratched the back of his head, his expression thoughtful, "Well, I've never done anything like this before," he admitted, "I'm, uh...I'm a virgin, actually."

Pyrrha gasped sharply, her eyes widening in surprise as she clapped a hand over her mouth. Her reaction made Jaune tilt his head in confusion, "What?" he asked, genuinely baffled, "Is that surprising or something?"

"N-no!" Pyrrha squeaked, shaking her head rapidly, "I just...I didn't expect...I mean, you don't seem like..." She trailed off, her voice breaking into an incoherent mumble as she looked away, her face burning.

Jaune shrugged, brushing off her strange reaction, "Anyway, I'll give it a shot," he said with a confident nod, "I mean, I've seen plenty of cheesy romance movies thanks to my sisters. I think I can figure it out."

Pyrrha gulped again, her breathing growing heavier as she watched him step forward. Her entire body tensed as Jaune reached out and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, "Okay, so I think it goes like this," he said, his voice calm and collected as if he were explaining battle tactics.

He gave her a gentle push, guiding her down onto the bed. Pyrrha let out a soft gasp, her wide eyes locked on his as he carefully straddled her, his weight pressing lightly on her thighs. She froze beneath him, her breath hitching as his hands remained on her shoulders.

Jaune leaned over her slightly, his blue eyes filled with determination, "Is this right?" he asked, tilting his head, "It's kind of like what they do in those movies. You know, the ones where the guy sweeps the girl off her feet and stuff. My sisters always made me watch those."

Pyrrha's lips parted, but no sound came out. Her emerald eyes were glassy, her entire body trembling beneath him. She managed a shaky nod, her voice a hoarse whisper, "Y-yes," she croaked, her face burning, "This is...very right."

"Great!" Jaune said, smiling brightly. He adjusted his hands slightly, gripping her shoulders just enough to keep her steady, "Okay, so what happens next? Do I, uh, say something? Like a line from one of those movies?"

Pyrrha's breath hitched again, her voice trembling as she replied, "A-anything you want..."

Jaune nodded firmly, leaning in closer as he tried to recall some of the more dramatic lines his sisters used to swoon over, "All right," he said, his voice low and serious, "Then, uh...'You're mine tonight.'" He winced slightly at how cheesy it sounded coming out of his mouth, but he figured it was worth a try.

Pyrrha let out a sound that was somewhere between a squeak and a moan, her hands twitching at her sides. Jaune noticed her reaction and gave her a concerned look, "Was that okay? Or should I try something else?"

"No! I mean, yes! It's fine!" Pyrrha stammered, her voice cracking as she clutched at the sheets beneath her, "I-it's perfect. You're perfect. Just...keep going..."

Jaune nodded again, his confidence growing, "Okay, got it. I think I'm getting the hang of this." He shifted slightly, his hands trailing down her arms as he tried to think of what else those romance movies always emphasized. He figured as long as he followed the script, he couldn't go too far wrong. After all, Pyrrha trusted him, and he was determined to do his best. What could possibly go wrong?

His mind raced as he tried to recall more of those cheesy romance movie moments. If his sisters' reactions were anything to go by, there was always a dramatic kiss - or a trail of kisses, to be exact. He hesitated for only a moment before leaning in closer, his breath brushing against Pyrrha's jaw, 'This is fine. Totally fine', he thought, his determination overriding his awkwardness, 'She needs this. I'm just helping her out. It's not like this is weird or anything.' He was just a guy helping his partner out. Like Ren and Nora. They said they weren't 'together-together' all the time even though they shared a bed and did other stuff most not-couples didn't do.

His lips pressed softly against her jawline, a feather-light touch that made her whole body shudder beneath him. He moved slowly, cautiously, planting a series of kisses down the line of her jaw, his hands steadying her as she trembled. Her skin was warm, almost unnaturally so, and the faintest taste of salt lingered where his lips brushed her.

Pyrrha let out a shaky gasp, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her head tilted instinctively, giving him better access as incoherent noises spilled from her lips. Words, or fragments of them, tumbled out between the gasps - pleas, praises, and something else he couldn't quite decipher.

Jaune, seeing her reactions as a sign he was doing things right, continued with renewed confidence. He trailed lower, his lips brushing against the curve of her neck. The faint, sweet scent of her shampoo and soap mingled with the warmth of her skin and the slight tang of sweat from her earlier run. For a brief moment, Jaune found himself oddly mesmerized by the contrast, 'Focus, Jaune,' he told himself firmly. 'This isn't about you. This is about helping your partner. Just keep going.'

He pressed another kiss to her neck, slightly firmer this time. Pyrrha's hands shot up to clutch at his arms, her fingers digging into his sleeves as a choked whimper escaped her. He stilled for a moment, glancing up to make sure she was okay, only to see her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted as she struggled to form words, "J-Jaune," she gasped, her voice cracking as her hands tightened around his arms. Her body arched slightly beneath him, her breathing erratic as incoherent babbling spilled from her lips. Whatever she was trying to say was lost as her words turned to incoherent slurring.

Jaune took it as another good sign and leaned in closer, his lips finding a particularly sensitive spot near her collarbone. He kissed it lightly before experimentally grazing his teeth against the skin, a gentle bite that made Pyrrha let out a broken cry. Her nails dug into his arms, and her legs shifted restlessly beneath him, her whole body trembling as she tried to form a coherent response.

'Wow, this is working way better than I expected, Jaune thought, his mind racing. I guess those movies weren't exaggerating after all.' He bit down lightly again, earning another strangled noise from Pyrrha as her head tilted further back, exposing more of her neck. Her babbling became more frantic, her words blending together into a stream of desperate, breathless sounds that made absolutely no sense to Jaune but seemed important nonetheless.

Her reactions, as overwhelming as they were, filled Jaune with a strange mix of pride and nervousness, 'Okay, just stay calm. You've got this,' he told himself, 'She's depending on you.' He trailed his lips lower, pressing kisses along the line of her collarbone as her breathing hitched and her hands clutched at him like a lifeline. Pyrrha's gasps grew more ragged, her body trembling beneath him as she babbled incoherently, her voice a mess of pleas and praise.

Jaune did his best to ignore her incoherent moaning and focused solely on the task at hand. His mind was a whirl of determination, awkward confidence, and a growing sense of responsibility. Whatever Pyrrha needed, he would do his best to provide. Because that was what good partners did.

Pyrrha's hands finally released their grip on Jaune's arms as she sank back onto the bed, her breathing shallow and uneven. She lay there, her chest rising and falling with each ragged gasp, her face flushed a deep crimson that crept down her neck. Her wide green eyes, clouded and unfocused, flicked up to meet his, half-lidded and filled with a raw intensity that made his stomach flip. He'd never seen her look like that before. Confident? Always. Awkward? Sometimes. This? Never.

Jaune hovered over her, unsure of what to do next. He wasn't exactly experienced in...this, but her reaction so far seemed like a good sign, right? She hadn't told him to stop, and he figured he must've been doing something right if she was looking at him like that. He was about to ask her what she wanted him to do next when her eyes flickered downward.

Pyrrha's gaze trailed over him slowly, almost lazily, as if savoring every detail. The dark fabric of his maid outfit, stretched tight over his torso from his movements. The crisp white apron tied neatly at his waist. Her eyes dropped lower, lingering on the short skirt that barely concealed his upper thighs, where the edge of his dark thigh-high socks clung to his skin.

And then her gaze stopped. Jaune froze, his cheeks burning as he realized what she was staring at. He didn't have to look down to know what had caught her attention: the unbearable tightness from his erection, straining against the fabric of his underwear, completely visible beneath the frilly hem of his skirt. He wasn't wearing panties (not that the manager hadn't insisted...), but he had to wear briefs instead of boxers. Briefs that did nothing to hide how hard he was.

Pyrrha's breath hitched audibly, her green eyes darkening as her pupils dilated further. Her gaze lingered, unblinking, as her lips parted slightly. A fresh wave of crimson spread across her cheeks, but she didn't look away. If anything, she seemed to sink deeper into the bed, her fingers curling around the sheets as she stared.

Jaune let out a strangled noise, his brain scrambling to process the situation. 'Oh...this is happening.' He clenched his hands into fists, willing himself to keep his cool, but it was a losing battle. Pyrrha's gaze, intense and unwavering, made his body react in ways he couldn't control, and the realization only made him flush harder, "Uh...P-Pyrrha," Jaune stammered, his voice cracking as he tried to form a coherent sentence, "I, uh, I didn't mean for you to...I mean, this isn't...I wasn't trying to..."

Pyrrha didn't respond. Her eyes finally flicked back up to his, meeting his gaze with a mix of vulnerability and unspoken longing that made his knees wobble. She shifted slightly, her legs brushing against his as she arched her back just enough to press herself more into the bed. The movement made her skirt ride up ever so slightly, exposing more of her toned thighs, and Jaune felt his brain short-circuit completely.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but the words died in his throat as she lifted a trembling hand to brush against his apron. The gesture was small, hesitant, but the way her fingers curled into the fabric sent an electric jolt through him. Her fingers trailed down lower till they rubbed up against the surface of the dark underwear, fondling his cock gently.

Pyrrha's lips moved, but her voice was barely a whisper, her words lost in the frantic thrum of Jaune's heartbeat. Her flushed face, her trembling hands, the way her body seemed to mold into the bed. It all felt like too much. What the hell am I doing? he thought, his mind spiraling as he struggled to keep himself steady. Still, he couldn't bring himself to move away. Pyrrha was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered, and the sheer intensity of her gaze made it impossible to think clearly.

Jaune's hands trembled as Pyrrha reached up and tugged at the waistband of his briefs. The sheer boldness of her action left him momentarily frozen, his mind struggling to catch up as the fabric slid down his thighs, freeing his aching length. Nine inches of hard hard cock twitched in the open air, and suddenly, all thoughts of how terrible the day was earlier were gone.

He hesitated for only a moment before, following her lead, his fingers found the waistband of her panties and eased them down her legs. His movements were cautious, almost reverent, as if he were handling something impossibly delicate. Pyrrha pressed her thighs together to make it easier, and he gulped when the crimson fabric was down to her knees. Peeking through the dark miniskirt, her already-wet quim seemed to greet him.

The air between them grew thick, heavy with tension and anticipation as their bare bodies pressed closer. Pyrrha's legs parted slightly, her flushed cheeks and half-lidded eyes inviting him without a word. Jaune swallowed hard, his heart hammering against his ribcage as he lined himself up against her entrance. The heat radiating from her made his breath hitch, and for a brief moment, he hesitated.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt. Pyrrha didn't speak, her lips trembling as she gave him a small, shaky nod. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer as her emerald eyes locked onto his.

Taking a steadying breath, Jaune pushed forward, his tip pressing against her slick folds before slowly easing inside. The sensation was overwhelming - warm, tight, and almost impossibly soft. Pyrrha gasped sharply, her entire body tensing beneath him as her back arched off the bed. Her arms shot up, wrapping around his neck in a vice grip as if she were holding on for dear life.

The sound she made was unlike anything he'd ever heard. Half gasp, half moan, filled with raw, unfiltered emotion. Jaune froze instinctively, afraid he'd hurt her, but the way she clung to him told a different story. Her fingers dug into his back, her nails leaving faint crescents on his skin as she tilted her head back, her lips parted in a silent cry.

"Pyrrha," he murmured, his voice soft. He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers as he resumed his slow, careful movements. He eased in deeper, inch by inch, her walls squeezing around him in a way that made his entire body shudder. Her breathing grew more erratic, punctuated by soft whimpers and gasps that sent a rush of heat through him.

When he finally buried himself to the hilt, they both stilled, their bodies pressed flush against each other. Jaune felt like he was on fire, every nerve ending in his body alive with sensation as he looked down at her. Pyrrha's face was a mess of emotions. Pleasure, relief, and something else he couldn't quite place. Her emerald eyes met his, shimmering with unshed tears, and he found himself mesmerized by the desperate intensity of her gaze.

They stayed like that for a moment, their breaths mingling as they tried to steady themselves. Jaune's hands cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away the faint sheen of sweat on her flushed cheeks. Pyrrha's arms tightened around his neck, pulling him closer until their noses almost touched.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper. This time, Pyrrha nodded more firmly, her lips curling into a faint, shaky smile.

"I'm perfect," she murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion. Her eyes bore into his, filled with a kind of unspoken trust that made his chest ache. Jaune smiled back at her, his nerves easing as he realized how much this moment meant to her.

Jaune moved cautiously at first, his hips rocking gently as he adjusted to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him. Pyrrha's gasps and soft cries spurred him on, her trembling body pressing against his with each careful thrust. He kept his gaze fixed on hers, his blue eyes locked onto her emerald ones as if they were the only two people in the world. The way she looked at him - half-lidded, vulnerable, and utterly trusting - made his chest tighten in ways he didn't quite understand.

As the seconds stretched into minutes, his movements grew bolder, the rhythm of his hips picking up speed. Pyrrha's grip on his shoulders tightened, her nails raking lightly across his skin as her gasps turned into sharp, breathless cries. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, her body arching to meet his movements as they lost themselves in the building intensity.

Jaune could feel the tension mounting, a fire building low in his stomach that he'd never experienced before. Not like this, at least. This was different from all the times he took care of himself with a croll on one hand and his dick in the other. It wasn't just the physical sensation - it was everything. The heat of her body, the way her soft, breathless cries filled the room, the way she clung to him like he was her lifeline. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from hers.

"Jaune..." she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of their bodies moving together. His name fell from her lips like a prayer, raw and unfiltered. The cries trailed off into a soft whimper, her head tilting back as her emerald eyes glazed over, lost in the moment.

The tension between them coiled tighter with each thrust, their breaths growing ragged as the fire inside them threatened to consume them both. Jaune's pace quickened, his hips moving with a desperation he couldn't control. Pyrrha cried out, her back arching sharply as her legs squeezed around him, her hands pulling him closer.

Jaune felt the peak approaching fast, his body trembling as the fire in his stomach burned hotter and hotter. He could see it in her too - the way her breath hitched, the way her eyes fluttered shut for just a moment before snapping back to his, the way her entire body tensed beneath him. He wanted to make it perfect for her, to make sure she felt as amazing as she looked in this moment.

"Pyrrha," he murmured again, his voice shaky. His hands cupped her face as he buried himself as deeply as he dared, his eyes never leaving hers. He couldn't look away.

When the peak hit her, Pyrrha gasped sharply, her head snapping back as her body arched off the bed, her cry echoing in the room. Jaune followed close behind, the fire inside him igniting into an uncontrollable inferno. He barely managed to pull out at the last second, his body trembling as he spilled himself onto the sheets just above her thigh. It wasn't neat. The next shot hit her right thigh and stomach, coating the lightly tanned skin white.

He stayed like that for a moment, hovering over her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His face burned with embarrassment as he realized what he'd just done - how fast it had all happened, how he'd barely managed to hold back in time. His gaze finally dropped, breaking the unspoken connection between them as he looked anywhere but her, "Sorry," he mumbled, his voice shaky as he tried to steady himself, "I didn't...I mean, I didn't want to risk anything. I just..."

Pyrrha didn't respond immediately, her chest rising and falling as she lay beneath him, her face still flushed and her hair splayed out like a fiery halo. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft and filled with a quiet, trembling joy.

"It's okay," she whispered, her arms reaching up to pull him close, "You were...perfect."

Jaune blinked, his blush deepening as he hesitantly met her gaze again. The way she looked at him - soft, glowing, and utterly at peace - left him speechless. He didn't understand how she could say that, not after how awkward and unprepared he'd been, but the warmth in her expression told him she meant every word.

For the first time, Jaune allowed himself to relax, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips.

Jaune stayed hovering over her for a moment, still catching his breath, his face burning from the exertion, and, okay, maybe a little from the embarrassment. He looked down at Pyrrha, who was sprawled out beneath him, her fiery hair a mess on the pillow and her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. She looked...well, she looked a little strange, honestly. Her expression was tight, like she was trying to hold something back, and her mouth opened and closed like she wanted to say something but couldn't quite get the words out.

Jaune frowned, tilting his head, "Uh, Pyrrha?" he asked, his voice hesitant, "Did that help? You know, with your, uh, sexual frustration?"

Pyrrha's eyes snapped open, the haze of pleasure in them vanishing as her face twisted into something unreadable, "Y-yes," she said, her voice tight, almost strangled. Her lips quivered, and she looked like she was waging some kind of internal war, "It...definitely helped."

Jaune smiled brightly, completely oblivious to the strain in her tone, "Awesome!" he said, beaming with pride. He pushed himself up a bit, brushing his hair back and looking far more confident than he felt all day, "I'm really glad I could help you out. I mean, that's what good partners are for, right?"

Pyrrha let out a soft, strangled noise, her hands twitching against the sheets as her face twisted further, "R-right," she muttered, her tone clipped, "Good...partners."

Jaune nodded firmly, feeling a rush of satisfaction. Pyrrha was always helping him out. It was good for him to finally return the favor, "Yeah! And, hey, I wasn't sure I'd be any good at this, you know? Since, well..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "You know, first time and all that. But I guess I did okay if it helped you out!" He smiled at her again, his blue eyes bright and filled with sincerity, "You're one of my best friends, Pyrrha, so I'm just happy I could do this for you."

Pyrrha's eye twitched, and her lips pressed into a thin line as her hands clenched into fists. She turned her head slightly, her voice barely audible as she muttered something under her breath that Jaune couldn't quite catch.

"Huh?" he asked, leaning closer, "What was that?"

"Nothing!" Pyrrha said quickly, her voice suddenly high-pitched and forced. She plastered on a shaky smile, "I...I'm glad too, Jaune. You're...such a good partner."

"Thanks!" Jaune said, his grin widening. Her right eye twitched again for some reason, "Man, I feel so much better about all this now. I mean, it was a little awkward at first, but knowing I helped you out makes it totally worth it!"

Pyrrha let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl, but Jaune, ever the optimist, took it as a sign of relief. He patted her on the shoulder with a satisfied nod, "Anyway, we should probably clean up before the hotel staff starts wondering what's going on in here, huh?" She didn't respond. She just lay there, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression, her hands still clutching the sheets as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. Jaune hopped off the bed, humming softly to himself. Today ended on a pretty good note, he thought.

[line break]

Weiss was not flustered. Not even a little. She was certainly not pacing back and forth in the privacy of her dorm room, her cheeks uncharacteristically pink, muttering under her breath as the memory of that ludicrous cafe incident replayed in her mind for the umpteenth time. No, Weiss Schnee, heiress to the illustrious Schnee Dust Company, did not allow herself to be rattled by such things. She was the very picture of stoic confidence.

And yet, there she was, walking in increasingly agitated circles, trying to make sense of the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Of all the idiotic, reckless, downright infuriating stunts to pull," she muttered, her heels clicking against the pristine floor with each sharp turn. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, as though she were trying to physically hold in her frustration, "Jaune Arc. In a maid outfit. What could he have possibly been thinking?!" No one answered her, of course. She was alone. Ruby had gone off to tinker with Crescent Rose, Yang was still down in Vale wasting her time with trivialities, and Blake was reading smut at some dark corner of the library.

The image replayed itself in her mind unbidden - him, standing there, dressed like a fool but somehow pulling it off far better than he had any right to. His tall, lean frame filled out the dark fabric and crisp white apron with an irritatingly competent elegance. His hair, styled in that unnatural yet oddly fitting way, framed his face just so, while the flawless makeup emphasized features that had no business being so symmetrical.

And those thigh-highs!

Weiss stopped mid-step, her cheeks flaring with heat as her thoughts derailed completely. No. She refused to let her mind wander further. It was not worth dwelling on how those thigh-highs clung to his legs or how-

"No! Absolutely not!" she hissed aloud, shaking her head violently to banish the thought. Her pacing resumed, this time faster, more frantic, "It's ridiculous! That's all. Ridiculous. Foolish. Stupid!"

Yes, it was his stupidity that frustrated her. That had to be it. How could someone as hopelessly clumsy and socially inept as Jaune Arc possibly pull off something like that? And why - why - was it burned into her memory with such infuriating clarity? It was an affront. To dignity, to propriety, and to everything Beacon stood for.

Her pacing grew even more erratic as she muttered to herself, "Someone needs to teach him a lesson. Yes. A lesson. He can't just go around doing things like this. It's unbecoming. Embarrassing. Humiliating!" Her fists clenched at her sides, "He must be made to understand there are consequences for his actions." What actions were those? Why, making a mockery of not just himself but all who knew him! What would people think if they found out they were acquainted with someone who so easily tossed his dignity away for the sake of lien?

Consequences. Yes. That was the key. She wasn't dwelling on this for any other reason. It wasn't because of the way his nervous smile had looked so...so genuine, or the way his earnestness had made the absurd outfit almost work. No, this was about teaching him responsibility.

She stopped pacing and stared out the window, her gaze unfocused as her thoughts spiraled further. Someone like Jaune Arc needed guidance, discipline, and a firm reminder that actions had consequences. And who better to provide that than her? Weiss was nothing if not capable of setting fools straight; just ask Ruby. It was her duty as an upstanding citizen of Atlas to show him the error of his ways.

Her hand moved instinctively to her hip, brushing against the small pouch where her Schnee brand credit card was safely tucked away. The idea struck her like lightning; a simple, brilliant solution. If he was working at that cafe, then he was undoubtedly underpaid. She could easily buy his time from his manager. With a simple swipe of her card, he would have no right to complain. He would be hers for the remainder of the evening.

And she could do whatever she wanted to him...

"Yes," Weiss murmured, her tone firm and decisive, though her cheeks flushed even brighter, "That way, I can ensure he learns his lesson properly. No interruptions. No excuses." Her fingers tightened around the card, her nails digging into its surface as she tried to ignore the way her heart pounded.

She needed to teach him. To show him that reckless behavior had consequences. To put him in his place for embarrassing himself, and, by extension, anyone associated with him. And if he cried, well...that would just mean he had learned his lesson thoroughly. And if he begged and called her mistress while promising to be a good boy for her? Well, that just meant she was doing a good job imparting the lessons he so clearly needed.

Her eyes narrowed, her grip on the card unyielding as she muttered, "This isn't about anything else. It's not about...about that outfit. Or those..." Her voice faltered as the image crept back into her mind, unbidden. Those thin legs, those glossy lips, the skirt that hid his above-average (or so he claimed) penis, "No. It's a lesson. That's all. A necessary, important lesson."

Weiss squared her shoulders and turned toward the door, her expression resolute. With her family's resources, this would be easy. She'd buy his time, bring him here, and make sure he understood the full weight of his foolishness. That was all this was. Nothing more.

"Jaune Arc," she muttered under her breath, her voice low and dangerous, "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into."

[line break]

Yeah...Weiss is projecting just a bit. Anyway, something for the next chapter.

Question:

1. Do you guys want insertion from Weiss to Jaune next chapter? Either a strap-on or she summons a dick with her Semblance. Might fit the femdom and Jaune in a maid outfit theme, but a lot of people seem to get testy when it comes to guys taking it up the bum.

If not, I guess we could just go for general femdom i.e whips, insults, and lots of demands from Weiss.

Who should Rusted Knight Jaune sleep with first in the Rizzless omake?

Like I said before, I may or may not write a proper smut piece for it, but the build-up could still be funny given the hard turn from drama to comedy. Pyrrha and Ruby are out since they're with Rizzless Jaune

Team Rizzless - Rusted Knight Omake, Part 1

Part 1 of 2 of the Rusted Knight Rizzless Omake. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but I got weirdly invested in the drama of Jaune ending up in this world. I'll go to humor and the pure insanity of the Rizzless universe next chapter. Or I might do the V1 Jaune omake first. We'll see.

For anyone interested in making a commission, email me at: storylover543 gmail . com

[line break]

Jaune opened his eyes and found himself staring at a cloudless blue sky. The sunlight was warm, gentle even, compared to the harsh, filtered glare of the Ever After that made his skin itch every time he took off his helmet. He blinked, squinting as his vision adjusted, and slowly pushed himself upright. Grass cushioned his palms, soft and real, not the strangely perfect textures of that demented world. For a moment, he just sat there, his mind spinning with disbelief.

He wasn't in the Ever After.

The realization was slow, hesitant, as if his body refused to trust what his eyes and hands were telling him. The Ever After had a way of bending reality, making him doubt every sensation, every decision. But here - this - felt solid. The scents of the world were vivid: damp earth, faintly sweet flowers, and the subtle tang of city air. He could even hear birds chirping. Real birds, not the mechanical or patchwork constructs of the Afterans. Or the birds that screamed words that made no sense to anyone but them.

Jaune's breath hitched. His heart pounded. His gaze swept the horizon, and there it was: the skyline of Vale, its iconic buildings standing tall and proud. The spires, the bustling markets visible even from this distance, the unmistakable hum of airships gliding overhead. It was alive. No rubble. No Grimm. No despair clawing at its edges like an inevitable tide. And floating over it like a sentinel keeping watch was Beacon, untouched and flawless like when he first laid his eyes on it.

For a split second, hope burned so brightly in his chest that it hurt.

He scrambled to his feet, shaky but refusing to fall, and brushed off the dirt clinging to his rusted armor. His mind raced, trying to piece together what had happened. How? How was he here? The last thing he remembered was...just another day in that damned place. Keeping the Paper Pleasers from killing themselves (he refused to call it Ascending), then using what time he had left to find a way out for when team RWBY...when he finally saw them again.

His hand brushed the hilt of Crocea Mors at his side, and he gripped it tightly like a lifeline. His armor was still worn and battered - rusted - bearing the marks of battles fought and lost in the Ever After. A quick hand across his face confirmed that his face was just as ragged. He hadn't reverted to his younger self. He was still the Jaune who had spent years in that place, fighting battles he barely understood, trying and failing to hold onto his sanity.

He took a step forward, and then another, his legs shaking from both relief and residual exhaustion. His boots crunched against the gravel path as he made his way toward the city. His breath was shallow, disbelieving.

Vale shouldn't be here. It fell. He'd seen the city overrun with Grimm, its people scattered or dead. That was the truth of his Remnant. But this...this was impossible. This was the Vale of before.

Could it have been restored? Could the people have fought back and reclaimed it while he was trapped in the Ever After? But how long had he been gone? Time flowed differently there, he knew that, but for an entire city to be rebuilt like it never fell in the first place? It would have to be years. Decades, even. More than enough time for his friends to-

He stopped the thought in its tracks, clenching his jaw. He couldn't let his mind wander to them. Not yet. Not until he understood what was going on.

As he approached the city's edge, the familiar sights and sounds only deepened his confusion. People bustled about the streets, vendors hawked their wares, and children played in the shadow of the great walls. The guards at the gate barely gave him a second glance as he passed, their attention focused on managing the morning crowd. He almost wanted them to stop him - to question him - because at least then he'd have something concrete to latch onto.

But no. They didn't react. To them, he was just another traveler. Maybe a Huntsman given his armor, but nothing worth stopping over.

He wandered into the streets, each step feeling heavier than the last. Everywhere he looked, there were signs of life. Laughter echoed from a nearby cafe where patrons sipped drinks, their faces calm and untroubled. There was no fear in their eyes. No shadow of the Grimm looming over their shoulders.

Jaune's thoughts tumbled over themselves in chaotic spirals. How was this possible? How could Vale be so...normal? He half-expected the illusion to shatter at any moment, for Grimm to burst from the shadows and consume everything. But the minutes ticked by, and nothing happened. People smiled and waved to one another, the world continuing in serene ignorance of the chaos that had defined his life for so long.

He stopped in the middle of the street, his breath shallow as his thoughts pressed down on him 'This doesn't make sense. This doesn't make sense.' He was gripping Crocea Mors so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His chest ached, and for a moment, he feared it might burst from the weight of everything crashing down on him. He almost cried then and there. Was this a dream? If so, please Gods, never let him wake up again...

"Excuse me, sir," a voice interrupted, breaking through his spiraling thoughts. He turned to see an older woman with a kind smile, "You look a little lost. Are you alright?" Jaune stared at her for a moment, unsure how to respond. She looked so.. ordinary. Her eyes held none of the weariness he had come to expect from survivors. She wasn't wary, wasn't bracing for an attack. She was just...a person. A normal, living person. Not an Afteran or some talking animal that wanted to kill themselves, just...

"I..." He stopped, his voice rough from disuse. He cleared his throat and tried again, "I...yeah. I'm fine. Just...I've been away for a long time."

Her smile widened, and she nodded knowingly, "Ah, a traveler. Well, welcome back to Vale. I'm sure you'll find everything just the way you left it." The way he left it? The words echoed in his mind, clawing at his fragile grip on reality. He barely managed to mumble a thank-you as she walked away, her figure disappearing into the crowd. Jaune's legs felt like they might give out beneath him, but he forced himself to move. He needed answers. He needed to understand how this was possible.

The Ever After was gone. He wasn't trapped anymore. He was back in Remnant. Back in Vale.

But something was wrong. He could feel it. A wrongness just beneath the surface, like an itch he couldn't scratch. But for now, the relief of breathing air that didn't taste like madness drowned out the questions.

He was home.

[line break]

Jaune's wandering eventually brought him to the bustling market district, where the scent of fresh bread and sizzling street food mingled with the din of chatter and laughter. For a moment, he allowed himself to take in the scene, tempted to buy something before he remembered he'd discarded his lien cards years ago. The familiarity of it all made his heart ache. It was like nothing had ever happened. Like the Grimm hadn't torn this place apart. Like Salem's endless war against humanity had never even touched Vale.

But the unease lingered. He needed answers.

As he rounded a corner, his gaze landed on a blonde woman leaning casually against a lamppost. She was tall and athletic, her striking appearance marking her as a Huntress even without the telltale gleam of her aura. Her armor, sleek and form-fitting, left little to the imagination, and she carried a short blade strapped to her thigh. Just the kind of impractical he remembered. Jaune's heart lifted slightly; here was someone who might understand. A fellow Huntsman. Maybe she could explain what had happened while he was gone.

He approached cautiously, raising a hand in greeting, "Excuse me- "

Her head snapped up, blue eyes locking onto his like a hawk spotting prey. For a moment, Jaune froze under her gaze, unsure if he'd somehow offended her, but then her lips curled into a sultry smile. She straightened, shifting her weight to one hip, and Jaune couldn't help but notice the exaggerated sway in her movements as she stepped closer, "Well, hello there," she purred, her voice low and dripping with intent, "Aren't you just the cutest thing I've seen all day?"

Jaune blinked, caught off guard at the sudden compliment. Cute? He hadn't looked cute in years... "Uh...thanks? Listen, I need to- "

"Oh, no need to thank me," she interrupted, her voice growing sweeter by the second, "But if you really want to, I can think of a few ways you could show your...appreciation."

Jaune frowned, confusion bubbling up alongside his unease, "Right...so, I was wondering if you could tell me what's been going on? The Grimm? Salem? Vale...falling? How-"

"Grimm? Salem?" she echoed dismissively, waving a hand as if brushing away his words, "Who cares about all that boring stuff? What matters is you and me, right here, right now."

Jaune blinked again. Was she serious? "But...this is important. I need to know what happened. How did Vale-"

"Shh," she cut him off, placing a finger against her own lips in what she probably thought was an alluring gesture, "You don't need to worry about any of that. Just relax." Her gaze dropped, trailing down his body in a way that made his skin crawl, "Why don't we...get to know each other better?"

Jaune took a small step back, instinctively gripping Crocea Mors. A part of him was tempted after years - maybe decades, he wasn't sure - of complete isolation, but he couldn't be distracted. He needed to know more, "I think there's been a misunderstanding- "

"Oh, there's no misunderstanding, sweetie," she cooed, stepping closer. Her fingers brushed his pauldron, lingering far longer than necessary, "You're a handsome guy, all alone in the big city. I'm just offering to...keep you company. You know, help you unwind." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Why don't you whip it out right here? No one's looking," she said, completely ignoring the fact that people were literally looking and rolling their eyes. A few guys muttered 'poor bastard' under their breaths.

Jaune's mind screeched to a halt, "What?!"

She grinned, tilting her head playfully, "Come on, don't be shy. You're obviously packing something good under all that armor. Let's just take a peek. I promise I'll make it worth your while." The words hung in the air like an absurd punchline. For a moment, Jaune could do nothing but gape at her, his brain scrambling to process what she'd just said. Was this a joke? A test? Some bizarre new way of interrogating people in Vale?

"I- no, what?" he stammered, taking another step back.

Her smile faltered slightly, desperation creeping into her expression, "Oh, don't be like that! I'm not asking for much, am I? Just a little peek, that's all! You're a man, aren't you? Big, strong, capable..." Her voice grew more frantic as she leaned forward, forcing Jaune to take another step back, "You're not like the others, I can tell! You can handle me!"

"I'm not a- what is wrong with you?!" Jaune blurted, finally putting some distance between them. His confusion and discomfort were rapidly morphing into outright panic. This was not the conversation he'd expected to have.

"What's wrong with me?!" she countered, her tone growing sharper, "What's wrong with you?! Do you have any idea how long it's been since I found a guy like you? Do you know how rare this is? And you're just... backing away like a coward? Come on, don't make me beg!"

She stepped forward again, and Jaune instinctively reached for his sword, not to attack but to create some kind of barrier between them, "Lady, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm not interested! I just need answers!"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she looked genuinely offended, "Oh, you're not interested?" she repeated mockingly, "What, you think you're too good for me? Is that it?"

Jaune threw up his hands, exasperated, "I don't even know you!"

"And whose fault is that?!" she snapped, throwing her arms wide in frustration, "You're the one running away instead of giving me a chance!"

"I...I'm leaving " Jaune shook his head, deciding he'd had enough. He turned on his heel and began walking briskly away, his heart pounding in his chest. Behind him, he could hear her calling out, her voice laced with desperation.

"Come on, don't be like that! We can make it work! Just...Just tell me where you're staying, and I'll stop by later! Please!" Jaune didn't look back. He didn't trust himself not to yell something he'd regret. Instead, he pushed through the crowd, ignoring the confused stares of passersby who had undoubtedly witnessed the exchange. His thoughts swirled with disbelief and alarm. This wasn't the Vale he spent a year in. Not by a longshot.

[line break]

Jaune walked aimlessly through the cobbled roads, his thoughts a storm of confusion and disbelief. The bustling streets, the lively market stalls, and the cheerful chatter of the people - it was all too much to process. Every sight and sound felt like a ghost of a memory, hauntingly familiar yet wrong. The city was bustling and alive, but the context didn't match what he remembered. The people were carefree, the atmosphere unmarred by fear, and there was no sign of the Grimm that had once plagued every corner of Remnant.

He clutched Crocea Mors tightly, the weight of the blade grounding him as his mind struggled to make sense of it all. The strange encounter with the overly familiar Huntress earlier had only deepened his confusion. She ignored his questions entirely, and the way she acted was...odd. Was something wrong with Vale? Or was it him? Maybe...Maybe things just changed in the years he'd been gone? Hell, maybe she was just a weirdo?

As he turned down a quieter street, his gaze landed on a familiar figure standing near a cafe. Snow white hair tied in a side ponytail, a flawless white dress, and heels that didn't do much to hide how short she was. Jaune stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Could it be? Was it really her? He walked forward slowly, hands shaking and legs wobbly. It had to be her...right? "Weiss!" he called, his voice trembling with raw emotion.

The woman - Weiss - turned, looking up at him with those icy blue eyes he used to love. Her expression shifted in an instant from confusion to...something Jaune couldn't quite place. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink as she stared at him, her looking up and down his tall, armored frame. A sharp intake of breath betrayed her composure, and her lips parted slightly.

He barely noticed her reaction as he strode up to her, his hand reaching out, "Thank the gods you're here!" he said, his voice thick with relief, "I can't believe it! It's really you! I thought I'd never see anyone again. I thought...I thought I was alone."

Without waiting for a response, he pulled her into a firm hug, his arms wrapping around her with the desperation of a man who had endured far too much. Juniper did her best to be his companion, but was it wrong for him to think that seeing Weiss - seeing everyone - again was worth separating forever? "You have no idea how much it means to see someone I recognize," he murmured, his voice cracking slightly, "After everything...after all this time...I'm just so glad you're okay."

Weiss stiffened for a moment, her hands hovering awkwardly in the air, but then she relaxed - no, melted - into his embrace. Her face, now a brilliant shade of red, was twisted into an expression of flustered delight. Her breathing hitched, and her hands slowly settled on his chest, her fingers tentatively brushing the cold, hard metal of his armor.

An older man - grizzled, handsome, mysterious - was holding her like she was the most precious thing in the world. His deep, gravelly voice, his heartfelt words, his strong arms enveloping her...it was everything she'd dreamed of and more when she read those tasteful novels. Her heart raced as she tried to process what was happening, but her mind was already leaping ahead to...possibilities. Very, very intimate possibilities.

"Weiss...it's me, Jaune. I...I know I look different, but it's still me!"

"Oh," she breathed, her voice shaky and embarrassingly high-pitched for someone of of her stature "Oh my, um...y-you're so...warm?" She winced internally at her own awkwardness but couldn't help herself. Her thighs pressed together involuntarily and she leaned just a little closer, savoring the way his embrace felt. Every other man she'd tried to charm had ran for the hills. And yet here this man was, hugging her like she was a queen. It almost made her faint.

What did he say his name was? John? She'd be screaming it later.

The man pulled back slightly, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, "Are you alright? Is Vale alright? What happened while I was gone? The Grimm, Salem-"

She barely registered his words, too busy trying to keep her composure. His hands were still on her shoulders. His big, strong, calloused hands. His voice was so earnest, so serious, and that look in his eyes; gods, she was going to pass out. She had to keep him talking. She had to keep him, "Oh, Vale is...fine," she said quickly, her voice trembling with poorly concealed excitement. She had no idea what he was talking about, but that didn't matter, "We're all fine. But you, you look like you've been through so much." Her hands slid from his chest to his arms, feeling the firm muscle beneath the armor, "You must be so...tired. You need to rest."

The man shook his head, his looking at her with that tired but handsome face. Oh, she wanted to run her hands through that beard, "I'll rest once I understand what's happening. Please, tell me; how did you survive? How did Vale...?"

"Oh, you poor, sweet man," she interrupted, her voice thick with a honeyed tone. She remembered the words the noblewoman said to the haggard knight in her favorite novel, "You've been carrying so much for so long. You need somewhere quiet to relax." Her hands tightened around his arm, and she gently tugged at him, "Come with me. I know the perfect place, away from prying eyes. Let me take care of you."

Jaune blinked, his mind still racing, "Quiet? I mean, I guess it'd be good to sit down and talk-"

"Yes, yes, exactly!" she said, her voice growing more desperate as she began to steer him toward a side street, "A nice, private place where we can...talk. Just the two of us." She wouldn't be using her mouth to talk. Oh no, she'd be chocking on his cock and swallowing his seed before the hour was done.

The man nodded absently, looking relieved. Her quim clenched at the look he gave her, "That sounds good. I've got so many questions. I need to know how Vale recovered, where everyone else is, and-"

"Yes, yes, all your questions," she said hurriedly, her grip tightening as she quickened her pace. Her cheeks were practically glowing now, and her breathing had turned shallow, "We'll discuss...everything. Don't you worry. I'll take care of everything."

Jaune took a deep breath and allowed himself to be led, the weight of his exhaustion finally starting to catch up with him. He barely noticed the way her eyes darted around, scanning for anyone who might interrupt, or the way her steps faltered every time she sneaked another glance at his rugged features, "Just a little further," she whispered. Her voice wavered with something he couldn't place as they approached a nondescript building with a discreet sign over the door, "I promise, you'll feel so much better once we're inside."

He nodded absently, still lost in his thoughts, "Yeah...that sounds good."

Jaune allowed Weiss to guide him down the street towards the buildings. His emotions remained a tangled mess of relief and confusion. The comforting familiarity of her presence was a lifeline in the chaos of his thoughts. Even if things felt wrong, Weiss being here made it easier to believe that maybe everything could still be okay. She was here, Vale was still standing, and people didn't live in fear. That meant something good had to have happened, right? Especially since she didn't look much older - or any older, really - than when he last saw her.

Maybe it was only him who had to suffer. He could live with that.

They were only a few steps from the door when a sharp, venomous, and familiar voice cut through the air, "Do you even understand how lucky you are?" the voice sneered, "I don't have time for excuses. You're going to give me what I want."

Jaune froze mid-step, his heart skipping a beat as he turned toward the sound. His eyes locked onto the figure leaning against the counter of a newsstand. Tall and striking, with jet-black hair and piercing amber eyes that glinted with dangerous intensity. Her outfit was as elaborate as ever, and her commanding posture sent a chill down Jaune's spine. Across from her on the counter, a young man shrunk back in fear and held a spray bottle like a lifeline.

Cinder Fall.

His breath hitched, his mind immediately consumed by memories. The destruction of Beacon, the agony of Pyrrha's death, the relentless years of pain and loss...all of it tied back to her. She was the one who started it all. She was the one who had torn his world apart. Whatever confusion he had was replaced with hot, burning rage.

She looked different. Both eyes were intact, and there was no sign of the Grimm arm that had marked her in the past. But Jaune didn't care. She was here, alive, and she was terrorizing someone else. Another victim of her schemes. His grip tightened on Crocea Mors as his vision blurred with fury.

"CINDER!" he roared, his voice echoing through the street.

Weiss stopped in her tracks, startled by the sudden shift in his tone, "What? John, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice tinged with confusion. But Jaune didn't answer. His gaze was locked on Cinder, and he unsheathed his broken blade in one smooth motion.

Cinder turned at the sound of his voice, eyes narrowing in confusion as she saw him approach. For a moment, her lips parted as if to speak, but then her expression shifted to something that could only be described as intrigued amusement. Jaune didn't wait for her to speak. He charged, his blade slashing through the air with furious precision, "You'll pay for everything you've done!" he snarled, his voice shaking with rage.

The monster's eyes widened, but she twisted gracefully out of the way at the last second, her movements fluid and practiced. Her confusion lingered for only a heartbeat before a sly smile spread across her face, "Oh my," she purred, her tone laced with amusement, "I didn't realize I'd made such an impression."

"Stop pretending you don't know me!" Jaune snapped, slashing at her again. The people around them screamed and ran away, but it came in one ear and out the other, "You're not getting away this time, Cinder! You're mine!"

Cinder sidestepped his strike, her grin widening, "Bold and handsome," she said, her voice taking on a teasing lilt, "I have to admit, I like a man who knows what he wants."

Weiss's jaw dropped as she stared at the scene unfolding in front of her. For a moment, she was too stunned to react, "Jaune! What are you doing?!" she finally cried, running after him. She grabbed at his arm, trying to pull him back, "Stop! What's wrong with you?"

"She's dangerous!" Jaune growled, shaking Weiss off as he pressed forward, "You know what she is, Weiss! Help me!"

Weiss stumbled slightly but quickly regained her footing, her confusion giving way to frustration, "Dangerous?! She's just standing there, you lunatic!" Her cheeks flushed with irritation, "Do you have any idea how rude this is?! Just...come with me and ignore her!" Ignore her?! Jaune looked at her in frustrated confusion. This was the woman who'd nearly KILLED her back in Haven! But now, Weiss was acting like her being here was no big deal!

Cinder giggled softly, sidestepping another attack with infuriating ease, "Oh, don't blame him, darling," she said, looking at Weiss with a playful smirk, "He's just passionate. I find it rather flattering, actually." Her gaze flicked back to Jaune, her tone dripping with feigned innocence, "I'm sorry, have we met before? Or are you always this forward?"

"Shut up!" Jaune shouted, his blade slashing toward her again, "You're not fooling anyone, Cinder! I know exactly who you are!"

Cinder dodged effortlessly, twirling away as though it were all a game, "Oh, I love a good mystery," she teased, "You're so serious. So intense. Tell me, do you always introduce yourself with a sword?"

Weiss stormed closer, her fists clenched, "Cinder, stop flirting! And Jaune, stop attacking her! What's wrong with you?!" She grabbed his arm again, tugging furiously, "Do you have any idea how badly you're ruining our moment?! Let's go!"

Jaune barely heard her, his fury blinding him to everything but the woman in front of him, "Stay out of this, Weiss!" he snapped, his voice raw with emotion, "She's a killer. A monster. She doesn't deserve mercy. And if you're not gonna help me, then get out of my way!"

Cinder tilted her head, her grin turning predatory, "Oh, my knight in shining armor," she said softly, her tone equal parts mockery and allure, "If this is how you treat a girl you hate, I can't imagine how you'd treat someone you like." She licked her lips, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Weiss's face turned crimson, her frustration boiling over, "Cinder, will you stop being weird for five seconds?! Jaune, you are not killing anyone in the middle of the street! And you are certainly not ruining my moment for no reason!" He ignored her protests, his focus remaining locked on Cinder. His broken blade gleamed in the sunlight as he prepared for another strike, his fury undiminished. Cinder's grin widened, her stance shifting in anticipation.

Jaune's blade swung through the air again, a furious blur as he drove Cinder back step by step. She dodged each strike with a mixture of graceful twirls and mocking giggles, her amusement only stoking the fire of his anger. Weiss was shouting behind him, her voice a mix of outrage and desperation, but Jaune tuned her out. He had one focus, one goal: to end this monster before she could hurt anyone else and watch the life fade from her eyes.

"You're relentless," Cinder teased, ducking under another slash. Her grin was infuriatingly wide, "But I can't help but notice you're missing every time. Getting rusty, aren't we?"

"Hold still!" Jaune snarled, his blade narrowly missing her again as she danced away.

"Why would I?" she purred, her amber eyes gleaming, "You're much more fun when you're worked up."

Jaune's teeth clenched as his broken blade whistled through the air once more, only for Cinder to sidestep again with infuriating ease. This wasn't a game. This wasn't some playful spar. How could she act like this after everything she'd done? His grip tightened, his rage boiling over. He wanted her dead!

And then, finally, his blade connected.

The dull, metallic clang of the strike landing reverberated through the street. It wasn't a clean hit, more of a glancing blow to her torso, but it was enough to make Cinder stagger back with a gasp. Her playful grin faltered, her expression flickering between shock and something bordering on genuine surprise as her Aura flared in response.

Weiss froze mid-yell, her wide eyes darting between Cinder and Jaune, "Jaune!" she shrieked, her voice high with panic, "What are you doing?! You're going to kill her!"

Cinder blinked at Jaune, one hand lightly touching the spot where his blade had struck her. Her usual composure wavered, replaced by an almost incredulous look, "You actually hit me," she murmured, her tone laced with disbelief, "No one ever-"

She didn't get to finish the thought. Her expression hardened, and her hand shot forward, wreathed in flame as she lashed out. The strike was quick, her open palm crashing into Jaune's chest with enough force to send most people flying.

But Jaune didn't fly. He barely staggered.

The impact made his armor creak and sent a jolt through his body, but his Aura absorbed the brunt of the blow. He stood firm, his eyes locked on Cinder with unrelenting fury. Her eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across her face. Weiss let out a small, startled gasp.

"What the-" Cinder started, her confident smirk completely gone as she took a wary step back. Her eyes darted to his chest, then back to his face, as though trying to process what she'd just seen. Jaune didn't give her time to recover. He surged forward with a roar, closing the distance between them in a single step. His broken blade clattered to the pavement as he grabbed her by the neck with both hands.

Cinder's lips parted, a startled sound escaping her as she found herself lifted off the ground with shocking ease, "Wait,what are you-?!" Jaune didn't wait. His grip tightened, and with a burst of raw strength fueled by years of pain and anger, he slammed her down into the pavement with enough force to crack the stone beneath her.

The sound of the impact echoed through the street, silencing everything around them. Dust and debris scattered as Cinder hit the pavement, her shocked expression frozen in place as she lay beneath him, her hair fanned out around her.

He loomed over Cinder, his breath ragged, his fury an unrelenting storm. He tightened his grip on her neck, ready to end this once and for all. And then, with her face half-pressed into the cracked pavement, Cinder let out a breathless giggle, "Harder, Daddy," she purred, her voice still teasing and sultry despite the damage she took.

Jaune froze, his grip loosening slightly in sheer disbelief. What? His eyes widened, his fury momentarily derailed by the sheer absurdity of what he'd just heard. "What the hell...?"

Before he could fully process her words, something struck his shoulder from behind. A sharp impact, followed by a faint burning sensation. He staggered slightly, twisting to see where it had come from. A bullet had grazed his armor, the metal plating protecting him from the worst of the damage. He looked up, his eyes narrowing as a trio of women approached, weapons drawn. Huntresses.

"Let her go!" one of them screamed, her voice shrill with panic. Her rifle was still raised, the barrel trained directly on him. Another Huntress, dual-wielding curved blades, rushed forward, her expression a mix of fear and outrage.

Jaune growled, his teeth grinding together, 'They're protecting her?' His mind reeled, unable to comprehend why Huntresses - heroes, defenders of the people - would side with Cinder Fall, of all people. 'She's manipulated them. She has to be controlling them somehow.' There was no other explanation. He knew everything was too perfect. He knew. The Ever After taught him that.

His knuckles tightened around Cinder's neck as she looked up at him, eyes dancing with amusement despite her position. "Oh, my knight," she cooed softly, her lips curling into a sly grin. "You've caused quite the scene. I didn't know you were so... possessive."

Jaune's growl deepened, his fury flaring hotter. "Shut up," he snapped, his voice cold and low. "You're not escaping."

One of the Huntresses lunged at him, her blades flashing in the sunlight. Jaune released Cinder and sidestepped the attack, his hand reaching for Crocea Mors on the ground. He swung the broken blade upward, the force of his parry sending the attacker stumbling back.

"Stand down!" another Huntress shouted, her weapon crackling with electricity. "You're outnumbered!"

He didn't care. All reason had left him. If they wanted to protect Cinder, they were his enemies too. These weren't his allies. These weren't his friends. And Cinder wasn't going to escape. Not this time. Not after everything she'd done. He raised his blade, his eyes hard and unyielding, "If you want to stop me," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl, "Then come and try."

Jaune's blade moved with relentless precision as he clashed with the trio of Huntresses. Their movements were swift and calculated, their coordination evident in the way they attempted to surround him. He parried one blade with the remnants of Crocea Mors, the impact ringing through the air as his legs tensed, ready to spring back into action. The rifle-wielding Huntress fired another shot, but he pivoted, his Aura flaring as he absorbed the impact and kept going.

They were tough. Trained Huntresses with Aura just like him. Each strike he landed didn't send them sprawling but forced them to stumble back, their protective Aura flickering with each blow. It was a shocking change of pace from the Jabberwalker and other monsters from the Ever After. They retaliated fiercely, their own strikes aiming to overpower him, but Jaune's years of experience shone through. He absorbed their hits with his Aura, gritting his teeth against the force, and struck back harder.

One Huntress, the one dual-wielding curved blades, charged forward again, her strikes a flurry of steel. Jaune blocked and countered, his broken sword catching both her blades before he delivered a heavy kick to her midsection. She staggered back, clutching her stomach, her Aura flaring to absorb the damage. Another blow to her face knocked her to the ground, her Aura sputtering out. He might not have had finesse, but he did have strength.

The rifle-wielding Huntress aimed carefully, her weapon crackling with an electric charge. Jaune ducked under the bolt of energy, closing the distance between them in a flash. His fist slammed into her shoulder, knocking her weapon from her grasp, and she stumbled but didn't fall. She swung at him instead, her unarmed strike connecting with his ribs, but Jaune gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain, delivering a solid punch to her jaw that finally sent her reeling.

The last Huntress darted in from behind, her blade slashing toward him with practiced precision. Jaune parried the blow, the sound of clashing steel almost deafening. She spun around, aiming for his side, but he caught her wrist mid-swing and twisted, forcing her to drop the weapon. A quick elbow strike to her side sent her staggering away, her Aura flashing dimly. A slash across her back turned her Aura to nothing and she crumples to the ground with her teammates.

By the time the fight was over, all three Huntresses were on the ground, bruised and battered, their Aura spent. They groaned in pain, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.

"H-He has Aura! I saw it!" one cried, her voice trembling as she clutched her ribs.

"That's impossible!" another shouted, wincing as she tried to sit up. "Guys don't have Aura!"

Jaune heard their words but dismissed them as nonsense. His chest heaved with exertion, his blade still at the ready as he turned back toward Cinder. She was still lying on the pavement where he'd slammed her earlier, her grin as infuriating as ever. She looked at him in amusement despite the cracks in the ground beneath her. "Oh, my knight," she purred, her voice breathless yet teasing. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Jaune's jaw tightened, his grip on Crocea Mors firm. He raised the broken blade, his focus locked on her. This time, I finish this.

Before he could take a step, Weiss's voice cut through the chaos. "This is NOT how this was supposed to go!" she shrieked, her voice high with frustration. Her hands clutched at her hair, her face flushed with fury. "John! What are you doing?! Stop ruining this!" Jaune ignored her, his eyes still fixed on Cinder. Whatever Weiss thought was happening didn't matter. He had one goal, and nothing was going to stop him now. He raised his blade higher, ready to deliver the final blow.

But then, without warning, he was yanked off his feet by an unseen force. He gasped as he was flipped upside down, his arms and legs flailing as his blade slipped from his grasp and clattered to the pavement below.

"What the?!"

"Enough."

The calm, authoritative voice froze him in place. Even as he struggled, Jaune's gaze darted around until he was turned to face its source.

Professor Glynda Goodwitch stood a few steps away, her posture as commanding as ever. Her riding crop rested at her side, and her eyes narrowed into a piercing glare. The faint glow of her Semblance surrounded him, holding him aloft like a ragdoll, "You," she said, her tone sharp and unyielding, "Have a great deal of explaining to do."

Jaune's fury briefly gave way to confusion and apprehension. This wasn't the reunion he'd expected. Or wanted. But as Weiss screamed in the background and Cinder smiled up at him with maddening delight, one thing was certain: today was only going to get worse.

[line break]

Poor Jaune. Ends up in a world where everything is actually kinda okay (cringe thirst aside) but still has to deal with that pesky PTSD and trauma. Next chapter he'll have to deal with thirsty Huntresses gooning en masse since he's the only guy with Aura.

Wanna help support me (and gain access to chapters a couple of weeks early)? Then check out the link below:

P a treon . com (slash) Vendetta543

Questions:

1. Who do you guys want Jaune to sleep with first next chapter? I likely won't show smut for this omake, but the leadup could still be funny.

2. Anything specific you guys wanna see next chapter? We've already got Jaune's PTSD episode over with.

Cafe D'Arc - Maid Jaune, Chapter 1

Like I said, here it is. A multi-chapter story of Jaune working as a maid and the women at Beacon actually being SUPER into it. This is just the beginning, so no smut yet. Just Jaune working at the maid cafe and then leading up to the first smut (Pyrrha, as per the vote).

[line break]

The faint jingle of a bell above the door barely registered over the sound of Jaune's internal screaming. Standing stiffly in the middle of a quaint yet lavishly decorated cafe, he adjusted the frilly headband that threatened to slip off his head with every movement. The uniform- if it could even be called that- was black and white, complete with an apron, lacy trim, and an absolutely humiliating miniskirt that fluttered too much for his liking whenever he so much as breathed. His legs, now freshly shaven (a requirement, apparently), were on full display thanks to the knee-high socks he'd been required to wear. Topping it off was a pair of heels that made him look taller than he already was.

"How did I get here?" Jaune muttered under his breath, eyes darting to the reflective surface of a nearby window. The answer stared back at him, blushing furiously in a maid uniform with a name tag that read Juliette. The name tag mocked him, dangling just below the lacy neckline of his outfit like some cruel cosmic joke.

He glanced toward the counter where the manager - a cheerful woman who exuded terrifying levels of energy - was humming to herself as she arranged pastries on a tray. She'd been the one to hire him after a brief interview that mostly involved her squinting at him suspiciously before declaring, "You'll do!" with way too much enthusiasm. He hadn't even realized what he was signing up for until she'd handed him the uniform and directed him to the changing room.

Jaune had almost walked out then and there. Almost. But then he'd caught a glimpse of the salary on the contract. His eyes had practically popped out of his skull. The amount they were offering for what was essentially waitstaff work was...well, it was astronomical, easily enough to cover his scroll payments, help his parents out back home (he still needed to apologize for running off with the family heirloom), and even save up for some upgrades to his gear. The cafe might have had a questionable theme, but the paycheck was no joke.

"Just think of it like when your sisters used to dress you up," Jaune murmured to himself. He could practically hear their laughter now, especially after they'd convinced him to participate in one of their impromptu tea parties while wearing an authentic princess dress. This is just a job, he told himself. A really, really embarrassing job, but a job nonetheless. Just think of the money he would make. No more having to wait for the weekly stipend or ask Pyrrha for a twenty.

"Juliette!" The manager's chirpy voice jolted him out of his spiraling thoughts. She waved him over with an expectant smile, pointing at the tray she'd just finished assembling, "Your first order! Table three. Smile big, okay? It's all about the customer experience!" Jaune pursed his lips. Juliette, cause apparently Jeanne was just a little too on the nose.

Swallowing his pride (and what little remained of his dignity), Jaune plastered on what he hoped was an enthusiastic smile. It probably looked more like a grimace, "Right! Table three. Got it." He carefully picked up the tray, making sure not to jostle the drinks, and shuffled toward the indicated table.

Each step made him hyper-aware of how different this uniform felt. The skirt swayed, the socks pinched slightly at his thighs, and the heels weren't exactly designed for someone who spent their days training with a sword. He was used to armor and sneakers, not...this.

The customers at table three were two young women, giggling behind their hands as they spotted him approaching. He forced his smile wider, though his cheeks burned, "Here are your orders!" he said brightly in a higher pitch than usual, setting the drinks down carefully, "P-Please call me again if you need anything, mistress!"

"Thank you, Juliette~," one of them cooed, her tone dripping with amusement. The other one giggled again, glancing down at his legs before murmuring something to her friend that made them both laugh even harder.

Jaune clenched his jaw, his smile stiffening. Ignore it. Ignore it. You're here for the money, he chanted internally like a mantra, "Enjoy your drinks!" he said, adding a small curtsy for good measure. The movement made the skirt flare just enough for the girls to let out audible oohs, and he retreated as quickly as he could without sprinting. He didn't like how he could feel their eyes staring at his butt when he walked off.

Back behind the counter, the manager gave him an approving thumbs-up, "You're a natural! Keep up the good work, Juliette!" Jaune managed a weak nod, already questioning every decision he'd ever made that led him to this point.

He cringed again, the soft hum of the cafe doing little to drown out his inner turmoil. Why does this have to be so easy? It was an unwelcome truth, one he'd spent years trying to dodge or laugh off. Sure, he was tall, but that didn't stop his figure from being frustratingly slender, his shoulders not quite broad enough, and his jaw never quite sharpening into the rugged shape and beard he'd imagined in his younger days. And his face. Ugh. His stupid, smooth, frustratingly symmetrical face that practically begged his sisters to slap makeup on it every chance they got.

"You're too cute to be a boy, Jauney~" his oldest sister - Jade - would tease, pinching his cheeks until they were red. Then, of course, the others would chime in, vying for their turn to transform him into their personal dress-up doll. The worst part? He knew he was just as much to blame. He'd complained, sure, but he'd never fought hard enough to put a stop to it. His older sisters would use their sibling authority and his younger ones would pout and beg. At some point, it became easier to sigh and let them have their fun than to argue.

And now here he was, a "maid" in a bustling cafe, leaning into years of unwanted training to survive. His voice, when he pitched it high enough, sounded disturbingly natural. He didn't need much practice to get it right, "Thank you so much for coming today!" he chirped to the giggling customers, his tone sugary sweet and without any of his usual awkwardness. The easy way it slipped out out made him want to crawl into a hole. Damn you, sisters! Damn youuu!

'You're just doing a job', he reminded himself, gripping the counter as another group of customers walked through the door. 'A really, really well-paid job.' His fingers brushed the frilly hem of his apron, and his eye twitched.

It didn't help that the manager had said he "looked perfect for the job" during the interview. She hadn't even hesitated. She'd handed him the uniform without batting an eye, as if he'd been made for it. And worst of all, she'd been right. The maid outfit hugged his form a little too well, the skirt swaying with an elegance that his armor could never hope to replicate. The thigh-high socks somehow made his legs look longer, and the heels, while uncomfortable, suited the look better than any sneakers ever could.

Jaune felt a shiver run down his spine. It was wrong how good he looked. Back home, the running joke had always been that there were eight Arc sisters instead of seven, and now, standing in front of the cafe's reflective window, he couldn't help but see why. His hair, which he'd never bothered cutting shorter than neck length, framed his face in a way that made him look...disturbingly pretty.

"Juliette!" the manager called again, her chipper tone snapping him out of his thoughts. She gestured to another tray waiting on the counter, "You've got table six next! Remember, big smile!"

"Right, big smile," Jaune muttered, forcing his lips into the same bright expression that had carried him through the last ten minutes. He grabbed the tray and made his way to the table, carefully balancing the drinks.

This time, it was a group of older women, their eyes lighting up the moment they spotted him, "Oh my, aren't you adorable!" one of them said, leaning forward with a smile that made Jaune's stomach churn. Why were the customers mostly women, he wondered. He'd have thought a Maid Cafe would cater mostly to men, but they were the minority.

"Um, thank you," he managed, his voice slipping effortlessly into the higher pitch. He set their drinks down, praying they wouldn't notice the slight tremble in his hands.

"Such lovely manners too," another woman added, her gaze lingering on his face, "You remind me of my granddaughter. So sweet and delicate!"

Jaune barely resisted the urge to groan. Sweet and delicate? Great. Just what every aspiring huntsman wanted to hear. He gave them a polite curtsy, the movement automatic at this point, "Please enjoy your drinks, mistresses," he said, retreating as quickly as possible before they could comment on anything else.

Back behind the counter, Jaune took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the edge of the counter until his knuckles turned white. 'I'm doing this for the money,' he reminded himself for the hundredth time. 'Just a few more hours, and I'll be one step closer to paying off that stupid scroll. No one I know is going to find out about this. I'll be fine. Totally fine.'

[line break]

An hour later, Jaune's forced smile froze, his entire body stiffening as the cheerful jingle of the cafe door sent a chill down his spine. He suddenly had a bad feeling. His head turned slightly, just enough to confirm his worst fear. Entering the cafe, looking entirely out of place among the frilly decor, were none other than Ruby, Weiss, Blake, and Yang. Yang looked like she was about to laugh her ass off, Weiss strutted in like she owned the place, Ruby oohed and ahhed as she looked around, and Blake looked distinctly unimpressed, particularly when she spotted some of the maids wearing fake cat ears and tails.

The tray in Jaune's hands wobbled as panic surged through him, 'No. No, no, no. This isn't happening.' He ducked behind the counter as casually as he could manage, his heart pounding in his chest. 'They can't see me. There's no way they'd recognize me in this outfit...right?'

He dared a glance over the edge of the counter, just in time to catch Yang slinging an arm around Weiss's shoulders, "Alright, Weiss, spill it. Why are we here?" Yang's grin was as wide as ever, her eyes darting around the cafe, "This doesn't exactly scream your vibe."

Weiss sniffed, adjusting her bolero jacket with a practiced air of disdain, "Because, Yang, I am used to a very particular lifestyle. One that Beacon, unfortunately, cannot accommodate." Her sharp eyes swept the room, landing on the plush chairs and delicate teacups, "Since the academy lacks servants to attend to my various needs, I've decided this cafe will have to suffice. It's gotten good reviews online, so I can at least hope that they perform semi-adequately."

Blake raised an eyebrow, her expression half-amused, half-exasperated, "So...this is your solution to Beacon's lack of butlers and maids? A place where the employees put on Faunusface?"

"Exactly," Weiss said with a curt nod, completely unbothered by the stares of her teammates, "A touch of refinement never hurt anyone. Some of us have standards."

Yang burst out laughing, "Standards, huh? You mean the kind of standards where someone else pours your tea for you? What's next, you gonna make us bow before entering your room?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Yang," Weiss said, rolling her eyes, "You three would make horrible maids. You don't have the proper deference" She led the way to a table near the center of the cafe, her head held high like a queen surveying her domain. Ruby trailed after her, looking a little unsure. Yang rolled her eyes too and sat across them. Blake went last, muttering to herself that she could be reading right now instead of having to deal with Weiss' weird fetishes.

Jaune, meanwhile, was trying desperately to become one with the counter. This was bad. This was so, so bad. He was debating whether to bolt out the back door when the manager's chipper voice rang out behind him.

"Juliette!" she said, practically singing his alias as she bustled over, "Table twelve needs service. That's a Schnee over there!" She gave him a little nudge, her eyes sparkling, "Big money, Juliette! Go make an impression!"

Jaune felt his stomach drop, "Do I have to?" he asked in a strained whisper. He was tempted to just leave right now, but he hadn't even put in a full eight hours of work yet. He probably wouldn't have even gotten paid for the work he already put in.

The manager's cheery expression turned razor-sharp in an instant, her eyes narrowing in a way that made him shudder, "Yes, you have to," she said sweetly, but her tone brooked no argument. She shoved a tray of into his hands before pushing him toward the table, "Go on! Big smiles! I heard the Schnees give generous tips!"

With shaking hands, Jaune slowly made his way to his execution, 'This is it. This is how I die,' Jaune thought as he trudged toward the table, his head down and his heart racing. 'I'm going to trip, or they're going to hear my voice, or something is going to happen and they're going to know it's me. And then I'll have to transfer to another school. Or another kingdom.' He'd have to go to Vacuo or Mistral and get a fake name. Felipe. He was gonna be Felipe and live life on the run.

As he approached, Ruby was the first to notice him, her eyes lighting up, "Oh, here comes the maid!" she said brightly, leaning forward in her seat. The purity in those silver eyes made him want to scream.

Jaune gritted his teeth and forced his voice back into its higher pitch, "Good afternoon, mistresses~ Welcome home! My name's Juliette! What can I get for you today?" He kept his head slightly bowed, letting his hair obscure his face as much as possible. He both cursed and blessed the hair extensions the manager forced him to wear.

Weiss gave a curt nod, clearly pleased, "We'll start with tea, and make it quick. I don't appreciate waiting."

Yang smirked, glancing at him. Juliette, "Wow, bossy much? Don't worry, uh...Juliette, was it? Take your time. No need to rush for her." Yang ignored Weiss' scowl, "I'll have the omelette rice and, uh, vanilla iced coffee! You guys don't serve alcohol, do you?"

"U-Unfortunately not, mistress." The last thing anyone needed was anyone getting drunk and handsy.

"Ah, damn."

"Ooh, I want the crepe!" Ruby chirped, pointing it out on the menu, "Strawberries and chocolate please!"

"A-And you?" He turned slightly to Blake.

"...Water."

"Aw come on, Blake!" Yang huffed, "Weisscream's treating us!"

"I refuse to give money to something that fetishizes my race, Yang."

"Ugh, you're being such a buzzkill! Juliette, help me out here!"

"It's not my place to queston my mistresses' wishes." At least that was the truth. Customer service, customer was always right, bla bla bla...

"Hm, good. At least the maids here are properly trained." Weiss nodded in approval, "Bring my tea out first, would you? I'm parched."

Jaune's hands tightened on the tray, his knuckles white, "I'll bring your tea right away," he said quickly, turning on his heel before Yang could study him too closely. The walk back was stiff, like he had a brace strapped across his back. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Ugh! He shook his head. It would be okay, he told himself. All he had to do was serve them their orders and then they'd leave. If he got lucky, Weiss would give him a tip he could use to treat his team. Right. It wasn't all bad.

Behind the counter, Jaune tried to collect himself as he prepared the order. His hands were shaking, and he felt a drop of sweat run down his back. Get through this, he told himself. They didn't know it was him and they wouldn't know.

He took a deep breath and carried the tray back to the table, setting the teapot and cups down with as much grace as he could muster. Weiss inspected the tea like a jeweler examining a diamond, while Ruby gave him a small, friendly smile. Blake, thankfully, seemed more interested in her book than the service, "Is there anything else you need?" Jaune asked, keeping his voice steady, "If not, I'll get the rest of your orders ready."

"Not right now," Weiss said dismissively, waving him off.

Yang, however, leaned back in her chair, giving him a look that made his skin crawl, "You know, Juliette, you're kinda tall for a maid, and those legs...do you work out or something?" Jaune's breath caught, and for a terrifying moment, he thought she'd caught on. But she just grinned, her teasing tone aimed more at Weiss than him, "You've got some competition in the elegance department, Weiss. Watch out."

Weiss scowled, "Don't be ridiculous. Elegance is more than appearance. It's about refinement and-"

Jaune didn't wait to hear the rest, quickly retreating to the counter before anyone could ask more questions. He survived. For now.

Minutes later, Jaune's hands felt like they were trembling as he approached their table again, balancing the tray with Yang's omelette and coffee, Ruby's crepe, and Blake's water (the manager gave him a funny look when she saw it on the list). His earlier retreat had given him a chance to compose himself - just barely - and he was determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. Serve them, smile, leave. Serve them, smile, leave. He repeated it like a mantra in his head.

He reached the table, setting down the items one by one. Ruby beamed as he placed the crepe in front of her, the bright red strawberries and swirls of chocolate making her bounce in her seat. Blake barely spared him a glance as she muttered a quiet "thank you" and took her water. Yang, meanwhile, watched him like a cat eyeing a fat, slow mouse, her smirk widening as her order landed in front of her.

"Enjoy your meal, mistresses," Jaune said in his best service voice, turning on his heel to escape before anything could go wrong.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Yang's voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks. He froze, his back still to the table, silently pleading to whatever gods might be listening that this wasn't what he thought it was. Slowly, he turned back around, his forced smile firmly in place.

"Yes, mistress?" he asked, his voice sweet as sugar despite the rising feeling of dread in his gut.

Yang leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on its rear legs as she grinned up at him, "Aren't maids supposed to, you know, serve the food? Like, make it special? I mean, I've seen those videos online."

Jaune blinked, his stomach sinking further, "What...kind of special service do you mean, mistress?"

Yang snickered, pointing at her omelette with the ketchup bottle sitting innocently on the table, "You're supposed to draw a heart on the omelette with ketchup, right? And then do a cute little pose? Something like, 'Here's your meal, ojou-sama~!' in those Mistralian cartoons." She ignored Blake's offended sniff about how it was called Anime, "You know the deal." Her grin was all teeth now, clearly enjoying herself. Damn you, Yang! "I want that!"

Jaune's forced smile twitched, 'This can't be happening. This is some kind of punishment for me sneaking my way into Beacon. That's gotta be it.'

Weiss groaned, rubbing her temple, "Really, Yang? Must you turn everything into a joke? Just eat the food. Have some grace."

"No way!" Yang huffed, "We're at a maid cafe. I'm getting the full experience!" She turned back to Jaune, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Come on, Juliette. You've gotta do it. Right? Your mistress says so."

Ruby was too busy with her crepe to weigh in, happily munching away while Blake gave Yang a sidelong glance, "You're enjoying this way too much," Blake muttered, though the faint twitch of her lips made it obvious she was having fun too. Jerk.

Jaune looked toward Weiss, hoping for some form of reprieve. She just crossed her arms and sniffed, "She's paid to serve us, Yang. If you insist on this ridiculous request, fine, but just know you're looking like a boor."

'Great. Thanks for nothing, Weiss.'

With no other options, Jaune reluctantly stepped closer to the table, his hands gripping the ketchup bottle so tightly that it squeaked in protest. He stared at the omelette as if it were the executioner's block, internally debating whether he could fake a sudden illness and escape. But the manager's sharp gaze from across the room told him otherwise. Don't screw this up, her eyes seemed to say. He could practically see the lien notes in her eyeballs.

"Fine," he muttered, though he quickly corrected himself with a chirpy, "Of course, mistress! One moment, please!"

He unscrewed the cap of the ketchup bottle and bent down slightly, trying to block out Yang's barely-contained laughter as he carefully squeezed the condiment onto the omelette. The lines weren't perfect, and the heart was slightly lopsided, but it was passable. He finished it off with a flourish, snapping the cap back on and placing the bottle neatly on the table.

Yang looked down at the heart, then back up at him expectantly, "And the pose?"

Jaune wanted to scream...and maybe smash that omelette in Yang's face. Instead, he forced his trembling hands to clasp together in front of him in a heart shape, bent slightly at the waist, and tilted his head to the side, "Here's your meal, ojou-sama~!" he chirped, his voice a pitch higher than he thought physically possible.

Yang burst out laughing, her chair slamming back onto all four legs as she clutched her sides, "Oh, my God, that was amazing! You're so good at this!"

Ruby finally looked up from her crepe, crumbs on her cheeks, "Aw, I missed it! Do it again!"

"No!" Jaune yelped, then coughed to correct himself, "I-I mean, please tell me if you need anything else, mistress~." Before anyone could say another word, he spun on his heel and marched back to the counter, his face red enough to match the ketchup. He set the tray down with a shaky exhale, his dignity hanging by a thread.

"Big smiles, Juliette!" the manager called out, giving him a thumbs-up, "You're doing great! Oh, if a Schnee gives a good review, we'll be rolling in it!"

Jaune resisted the urge to groan. Why me, he thought. There were close to a dozen other maids here, so why was the manager picking on him? He was too anxious to even ogle the rest of the staff. The only guy in a cafe full of women dressed in frilly maid outfits and he hated every second of it, 'Do it for the money.' He grit his teeth. That salary had more zeroes than any other job in this part of Vale. The only thing that would've paid more was smuggling drugs, and that was illegal. And wrong.

It took half an hour for team RWBY to finish. Half an hour of Jaune sweating bullets and praying to whatever god out there that he wouldn't get caught. When Weiss finally called him over to get the check, Jaune returned to the table with with the bill and an overly chipper expression that looked way too fake to be genuine. He carefully placed the receipt near Weiss, who had made an offhand comment about the table not being pristine enough for her refined standards. As he stepped back, Blake's golden eyes flicked up from her book, watching him with unnerving intensity.

"Juliette," Blake said softly, her tone neutral but sharp enough to cut through the ambient noise of the cafe.

Jaune stiffened slightly but maintained his smile, "Yes, mistress? Is there something I can assist you with?"

Blake set her book down, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Her gaze never wavered as she tilted her head slightly, "You smell familiar."

His heart skipped a beat, "I...beg your pardon?"

"I said," Blake continued, her voice steady, "You smell familiar. Like soap, steel, and..." She sniffed lightly, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly, "Sweat. The exact same as Jaune after he finishes training."

Jaune felt the tray in his hands wobble. He gripped it tightly to steady himself, his lips stretching into a forced grin. What the fuck? Sweat? How in the hell could she tell someone's sweat?! That wasn't Faunus senses, that was just plain bullshit! "I-I'm sure you must be mistaken, mistress. Perhaps someone else here uses a similar soap?"

Blake arched a delicate brow, "Maybe. But then there's the way you walk."

Jaune blinked, "My...walk?"

"Yeah," she said calmly, "You're way too stiff for someone playing the role of a maid. Most people wouldn't notice, but I've seen you in combat drills. You move the exact same way when you're trying to avoid falling flat on your face."

"That's not-"

"And you've got the same scar Jaune has from that training accident a month back." Jaune's eyes snapped to the faint line above his right knuckles and he quickly covered it with his left hand. He cursed himself for not wearing the frilly gloves the manager offered him earlier.

"Yo, Blake, what's going on?" Yang asked. Blake ignored her, too focused on the nervously sweating maid.

Jaune's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before he caught himself, "Mistress, I assure you-"

"And your voice." Blake leaned back in her chair, her gaze sharpening further, "It's pitched higher, but you slipped earlier when Yang teased you. I caught it."

Jaune felt a bead of sweat roll down his back, "I-I don't know what you're talking about. I'm Juliette, just a maid serving at this cafe~."

Blake tilted her head again, her expression unreadable, "Are you?"

"Yes!" Jaune snapped, the strain in his tone painfully obvious, "I don't even know this Jaune person you're talking about!"

Blake stared at him for a moment longer, then her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, "If you're not Jaune," she said, her voice dropping into a casual drawl, "Then why are you sweating so much?"

"B-Because I'm being accused by a stranger of being someone I'm not!" Jaune snapped.

Big mistake. Whether it was nerves or something else, he couldn't keep up the pitch in his voice. Instead of the voice of Juliette the maid, what came out was the very indignant voice of Jaune Arc. Jaune froze, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach as the slip of his voice echoed in the air like a death knell. For a moment, there was silence - a terrible, foreboding silence that almost choked him with how heavy it was.

Then the chaos began.

Yang's reaction came first, her eyes snapping wide open in recognition. Unfortunately for her, she'd been leaning her chair precariously back on two legs, her usual confidence betraying her in the worst possible moment, "Wait a se-!" she began, but gravity cut her off. The chair tilted too far, and with a loud crash, Yang toppled backward, landing flat on her ass. Her wild laughter immediately followed, ringing through the cafe as she pointed an accusatory finger at him from her new spot on the floor.

"Oh my God, it is you!" she howled, clutching her sides, "Jaune, what the hell are you doing in a maid outfit?!" Tears of laughter streamed down her face, and her chair wobbled pitifully on its side next to her.

Ruby's gasp was so sharp it sounded like she'd just uncovered a shocking plot twist in one of her favorite comic books. She leaned forward, her wide eyes practically sparkling as she scanned him up and down, "Jaune?!" she squeaked, barely able to process the sight before her, "Is that really you? Like...you-you're actually wearing...that?" Her finger wavered as she pointed at his frilly uniform, her face somewhere between horrified and fascinated.

Jaune's blush deepened to an alarming shade of crimson, "I-I can explain!" he stammered, his voice cracking as he tried to gesture toward them, "It's not what it looks like-"

"It's exactly what it looks like!" Yang cut in, still laughing hysterically, "Oh, this is priceless! I knew you'd look good in a dress, but I didn't think you'd commit this hard!" She doubled over again, her laughter devolving into wheezing giggles.

The absolute worst reaction, however, came from Weiss. At first, her expression was one of pure shock, her icy blue eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to process the impossible. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Then, slowly, the shock gave way to something much more dangerous: indignation. Her jaw tightened, and her arms crossed over her chest as she stared at him like she'd just uncovered some sort of cosmic injustice.

"How?" Weiss hissed, her voice trembling with disbelief. The next words to come out of her mouth were the last ones he expected, "How do you look so pretty?!" She jabbed a finger toward him, her sharp tone growing more incredulous with each word, "You're supposed to be...well, you! And yet here you are, in my presence, looking more refined in that ridiculous outfit than some of the actual maids I've hired! It's infuriating!"

Jaune blinked, completely taken off guard, "Wait, what?"

"And another thing!" Weiss continued, her frustration mounting, "How do you-" She gestured vaguely toward his chest, her cheeks reddening with outrage, "How do you even have those?! You're flat as a board!"

Jaune's face burned hotter as he stammered, "T-they're fake! Padding! It's part of the uniform!" His voice cracked again, and he swore he could hear Yang trying to catch her breath from laughing too hard.

Weiss let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a gasp, throwing her hands in the air, "Fake or not, the fact that you even bothered- ugh! This is beyond humiliating!"

"For who?" Jaune asked weakly, the question earning him a withering glare that immediately made him regret opening his mouth.

"I don't know how you managed this," Weiss seethed, "But you've officially ruined this cafe for me. I hope you're proud of yourself!"

Meanwhile, Ruby looked as though she were still trying to wrap her head around the situation, "Wait, wait, wait," she said, holding her hands out in a gesture for calm that was entirely out of place considering the storm of emotions brewing at the table, "So...Jaune's been our maid this entire time?"

"Looks like it!" Yang chimed in, still on the floor, "Man, this makes the whole ketchup-heart thing even better. You seriously drew a heart on my omelette while wearing this?" She gave him a look that was a mix of amazement and pure, unadulterated smug.

Jaune groaned, burying his face in his hands, "Please...Please don't bring that up."

"Oh, I'm definitely bringing it up," Yang said, smirking at him, "I'm gonna bring it up every time I see you in the cafeteria. 'Hey Jaune, can you draw me another ketchup heart? You're so good at it!'"

Ruby tilted her head, finally noticing how red Jaune's face had become, "Wait, are you okay? You're, like, really red. Do you have a fever?" She paused, then gasped, "Oh no! What if you're sick? That's why you took this job, right? To pay for medicine!"

Jaune shot her an incredulous look, "No, I'm not sick, Ruby!"

Ruby pouted, "Oh. Well...you could've been."

Blake, who had been silent through most of the exchange, finally spoke up, her calm voice cutting through the chaos, "So...you're doing this for the money," she said, her tone flat but tinged with the faintest hint of amusement, "That's why you're working here. Because you needed the money."

Jaune's shoulders slumped, his arms hanging limply at his sides, "Yes," he muttered, his voice barely audible, "I needed the money. And this place pays really well, okay?"

Yang snorted, unable to contain herself, "Dude, you should've just asked me for some lien! I'd have given you the money and saved you from all this!"

Jaune shot her a glare, his voice finally rising above the chaos, "You think I'd want to owe you money after this? No thanks!"

Yang cackled again, "Fair point!"

Meanwhile, Weiss shook her head, still visibly fuming as she muttered, "Unbelievable. Just...unbelievable." She turned her attention to the manager, who was watching the scene unfold with an amused smile, "You! How much do you pay your staff? Out of curiosity."

"Oh, quite a lot," the manager replied cheerfully, "More than enough to justify the...unique requirements of the job."

Weiss huffed, crossing her arms again, "Typical. This kingdom truly has no standards."

Jaune groaned and clasped his hands together in a desperate plea, his voice trembling as he looked at his sister team, "Please. Please don't tell anyone about this! I'll do anything. Just keep it between us, okay?"

Ruby's expression softened immediately, her face crumpling in concern, "Aw, Jaune, I wouldn't tell anyone! You don't have to worry about me." She gave him a reassuring smile, though it faltered slightly as she added, "But...uh, I might have some questions later. This is kinda weird." She suddenly blushed, "N-Not like a bad weird or anything!"

"Questions can wait," Weiss snapped, her tone still sharp as she crossed her arms and glared at Jaune, "I'm still trying to process how this is even possible!" Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him like she was trying to solve a really annoying captcha, "For instance, why is your makeup so good?! It's entirely too clean and precise for someone like you!" He was almost offended by her indignant tone. What the heck did she mean 'someone like him'?

Jaune winced, his blush deepening, "I...had practice," he admitted reluctantly, "My sisters used to, uh...dress me up. A lot."

Weiss's eyes widened in disbelief, "That's where you learned this? Your sisters?!" She threw her hands in the air, "Unbelievable. Just- ugh!" She shot a glare down at his feet, "And the heels! Why are you wearing heels?! You're already tall enough!"

"It's part of the uniform!" Jaune said quickly, his voice almost cracking, "I didn't choose them!" He loooked to his manager for help, but the older woman was pointedly looking away and whislting innocently. The rest of the maids and customers weren't any help either. They apparently all decided it was none of their business.

"And your voice!" Weiss continued, her frustration mounting, "How is your voice so...so authentic?! You sounded like a completely different person earliee!"

"I don't know!" Jaune said, exasperated, "I just...I've always been able to do it, okay?! Stop asking!"

Weiss's gaze dropped to his skirt and thigh-high socks, her expression pinched. Her voice lowered to a mortified whisper, "And...And how, exactly, are you keeping your...you know what hidden?"

Jaune's mouth fell open, his face practically glowing red, "Stop staring!" he hissed, practically hopping back a step and clutching his skirt like it could shield him from her scrutiny. Blake made a crack about how he was acting like someone straight out of an anime. He ignored her.

Weiss's cheeks flushed a matching shade of crimson, and she turned her face away with an indignant huff, "Well, I had to ask! It's distracting! Is it lacking in size? Is that how you're able to hide it so well?"

"NO!" Jaune shrieked, "It's above average, thank you very much!"

Yang finally picked herself up off the floor, brushing off her shorts with a sly grin, "You know, Weiss," she said, her tone dripping with mischief, "I can't tell if you're mad because Jaune's pulling this off better than you ever could, or if you're jealous."

Weiss stiffened, whirling to face her with wide, offended eyes, "Excuse me?!"

Yang's grin widened. She smelled blood in the water, "Yeah, I mean, you're laying it on really thick. Talking about his makeup, the heels, the voice, even asking about the, uh, other stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd say you want to- " She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, making a circle with her right hand then shoving her index finger inside "-have some fun while he's in that dress."

Ruby, halfway through a sip of her water, choked and started coughing violently, "Yang!" she gasped, slamming the glass back on the table as her face turned red.

Jaune looked like he wanted to melt into the floor and disappear forever, "That is not helping!" he yelled.

Weiss' face turned an angry shade of red and she sputtered, "H-how dare you insinuate such a thing?!" she snapped, her voice climbing to an octave Jaune hadn't even thought possible, "Why on Remnant would I ever - ever - think of doing that with him?!"

Yang smirked, leaning forward on her elbows, "I don't know, you tell me," she said smoothly, "You're the one grilling him like he's a piece of meat." Jaune groaned. Seriosuly? Puns? Right now? That was definitely why he never had a crush on her. She'd turn anything into a pun if she could help it. He went to her comedy night.

Weiss' hands balled into fists at her sides and she glared daggers at Yang. If looks could kill, the grinning blonde would've already been six feet under, "I am merely pointing out the absurdity of this situation! I am not - repeat, not - jealous, and I certainly don't want to- ugh!" She cut herself off with a frustrated growl, her composure teetering dangerously. Jaune was too mortified to be offended that she called his dick small earlier.

Ruby, still coughing, raised a shaky hand, "Um...maybe we should all calm down? Like, right now?"

Blake, who had been silently observing the entire exchange with a raised brow, finally spoke up, "This is...fascinating," she said, voice as dry as cardboard, "But we are still in public, you know."

The reminder seemed to snap everyone back to reality. Weiss straightened her posture with a haughty sniff, her face still red. Yang chuckled and picked up her chair, sitting back down smugly. Ruby looked between them nervously, as if unsure whether to intervene. Meanwhile, Jaune groaned, burying his face in his hands, "I'm never going to live this down, am I?" he muttered.

Yang patted him on the back with a grin, "Not a chance, maid boy. Not a chance."

[line break]

Jaune had somehow managed to scrape through the rest of the team RWBY ordeal without further disaster. After what felt like a lifetime of awkwardness, pointed stares, and Yang's relentless teasing, the four finally left the cafe, Weiss dragging them out with a huff after paying the bill. Jaune didn't even bother looking at how much she tipped. His only priority was to survive the rest of his shift without collapsing into a puddle of mortified embarrassment.

He tried to shake off the feeling of impending doom as he returned to his duties. Cleaning tables, refilling sugar jars, and forcing a smile whenever another customer addressed him as Juliette. All the while, a heavy pit of dread sat in his stomach, growing larger with every passing minute. He couldn't stop replaying their reactions in his mind. Weiss's indignant accusations, Ruby's wide-eyed disbelief, Blake's raised brow, Yang's insufferable smirk- Oh, God, Yang. She was never going to let this go. Every meal at the Beacon cafeteria would be a reminder of his humiliation, served with a side of ketchup hearts.

No, he told himself, gripping the edge of the counter as he tried to focus on the present, 'I'll be fine. They promised not to tell anyone. I just have to get through this shift, go back to Beacon, and...I don't know. Lay low for a few weeks? Months? Maybe I can transfer to Atlas.'

He glanced at the clock. Just fifteen more minutes. If he could keep his head down and avoid any more surprises, he'd be home free with a pocket full of lien.

Jaune was halfway through wiping down a table when the cafe door slammed open with enough force to make the little bell above it jingle frantically. He jumped, his heart skipping a beat as he turned toward the source of the commotion. Standing in the doorway, framed by the golden afternoon light, was Pyrrha.

And she looked...off.

Her normally serene face was flushed an alarming shade of red, her emerald eyes darting around the cafe like she was hunting for something. Or someone. Her breathing was quick and shallow, her chest rising and falling as if she'd just sprinted all the way from Beacon. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple, and her expression was a mix of determination and something else Jaune couldn't quite place. Either way, it was terrifying.

"P-Pyrrha?" Jaune stammered softly to himself, gripping the rag in his hand like a lifeline, "What's she doing here?" Pyrrha didn't say word. Her eyes scanned the room, narrowing slightly as they passed over the other customers and staff. Then, like a predator locking onto its prey, her eyes landed squarely on him. Her face turned even redder - if that were possible - and her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. Nothing but a soft gasp.

"Uh..." Jaune took a cautious step back, his instincts screaming at him to flee, "M-Mistress? Do you need help with something?" This was all a coincidence, he told himself. She was just here to...get a drink or some food or something. Team RWBY promised they wouldn't say anything!

Again, Pyrrha said nothing. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she closed the distance between them with alarming speed. Jaune barely had time to process what was happening before her hands shot out, grabbing him firmly by the shoulders.

"Wait, hold on-!" he yelped, but before he could finish, she bent down, wrapped an arm around his waist, and hoisted him clean off the ground.

"Pyrrha!" Jaune shouted, flailing uselessly as the cafe floor disappeared beneath him. In his panic, he completely forgot to pitch his voice or play dumb, "What are you doing?! Put me down!" Pyrrha didn't answer. With a strength that was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, she adjusted him over her shoulder like he was nothing more than a sack of potatoes. Her movements were quick, precise, and completely indifferent to his frantic squirming. She held him firmly in place as she pivoted on her heel and marched toward the door.

"Help!" Jaune cried, his voice cracking as he waved toward his stunned coworkers, "Someone stop her! This is kidnapping!"

"Have a nice day!" the manager called out cheerfully from behind the counter, completely unconcerned with the scene unfolding in her cafe.

"Wait, you're okay with this?!" Jaune shouted, his head whipping around as he tried to twist free of Pyrrha's grip. He might as well have been struggling against an iron vice, "Pyrrha, what the hell is going on?! Why are you- oh God, are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong? If I did, I'm sorry!"

Pyrrha still didn't respond. If anything, she seemed even more determined, her strides long and purposeful as she pushed through the cafe door and stepped into the street. Jaune's flailing legs kicked uselessly in the air, and his hands beat against her back in a desperate attempt to free himself. It was useless. Pyrrha didn't have as much raw Aura as him, but what she did have was years of experience in the tournament circuit. His fists might as well have been spitballs.

"I- Pyrrha, come on! Talk to me! You're freaking me out!" Jaune begged, craning his neck to look at her face. All he could see was the side of her head, her face still red as she kept her eyes fixed forward. Her lips were pressed together so tightly they'd turned pale, and her breaths came in short, sharp bursts. She raised him higher on her shoulder, "Hey, stop! My skirt! It's riding up!" he shrieked. His partner - the person he could trust with his life - completely ignored his frantic pleas and just kept walking.

Jaune cursed team RWBY in his head. When he got back to Beacon, he was gonna give them a piece of his mind!

...

But first, he had to deal with whatever the heck was going with Pyrrha.

[line break]

Poor Jaune. Just wants some lien, ends up awakening something in team RWBY and Pyrrha. Apparently, Huntresses are into femboys. The sight of Jaune in that dress really does something to them, especially Weiss. She's having serious regrets rejecting Jaune now that she's seen him in that outfit.

Question:

1. I'm kinda torn on Pyrrha. The two are definitely fucking next chapter, but I have two options how.

- Option one, she frames it as her wanting to train him and Jaune either being dumb or flustered enough not to question too much.

- Option two, she just throws shame away completely, gets down on her hands and knees, and begs to fuck him in that dress.

2. Who do you guys want after Pyrrha? The vote's tied between Weiss, Blake and Cinder right now.

Question on the next Patreon Exclusive

Per the suggestions and discussions on the Discord, I've decided to make a non-oneshot smut story where Jaune dresses up as a maid in a cafe for a paycheck and the RWBY girls being REALLY into it when they find out. Turns out, sexy maid Jaune really hits all the right notes for them.

Question is, who gets to have their fun with the maid knight first?

Familial Affections - Chapter 2

Next chapter of this. Been a while, huh? Sorry, my friend sucked me into Zenless Zone Zero. The gacha has caught me...

[line break]

Jaune stretched his arms over his head and let out a long yawn, his breath misting in the early morning air. Beacon's grounds were quiet at this hour, save for the the occasional chirp of birds. The Academy felt isolated from the rest of the world. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, casting warm, golden hues across the landscape. Perfect time for a jog, or at least, that's what Eve always told him.

He wasn't a morning person. Far from it. But with classes starting soon (and with it, sparring sessions with people who went to actual combat school), he figured he needed every advantage he could get. His sisters always said that if he worked as hard as he dreamed, he'd catch up to anyone.

That was the same thing Eve said when she sat on him and told him to give her fifty pushups...

Adjusting his hoodie—one of the last ones Mom sent him before he left for Beacon—he started down the paved trail leading away from the dorms. His sneakers tapped softly against the ground and his breaths came out at the same balanced pace Eve taught him.

Just as he was settling into a pace, another set of footsteps echoed behind him. Before he could turn, a familiar voice called out, "What's up, Jaune?" He looked back and saw Yang jogging up beside him, her usual confident grin plastered across her face. Her orange tank top and running shorts left little to the imagination and he made sure he looked only at her lilac eyes. His sisters always told him not to let his eyes wander when talking to other women.

"Morning, Yang." He tried to keep the strain out of his voice as he kept up. She made running look effortless, which annoyed him more than he cared to admit.

"Didn't think I'd see you out here so early," she teased, looking him over. Her golden hair was pulled into a ponytail that bounced with every step, "Figured you'd still be hugging your pillow, drooling about...what was it? Pumpkin Pete's?"

Jaune frowned, "Hey! First things first, I don't drool. Second, Pumpkin Pete's deserves respect. It's the greatest cereal known to mankind."

Yang laughed, turning around and jogging backwards but still keeping the same pace as before. It reminded him of Eve, "You're too easy, Vomit Boy."

"Could you not call me that? It's bad enough I have a reputation already..."

"Reputation? Oh, you mean the one for puking on the bullhead?"

"Can we talk about literally anything else?"

Yang grinned wider, clearly revving herself up for another go,, when a third voice interrupted, "Good morning, Jaune, Yang." Both turned to see Pyrrha catching up to them. She was dressed in a Beacon training hoodie and leggings, her hair tied back in its usual ponytail. There was something effortlessly graceful about the way she moved, like running was second nature to her. Jaune almost tripped over his own feet trying to straighten up.

"Pyrrha! Hey!" He didn't catch her in the dorms when he left, so he figured she was out training too. Good to see that he wasn't the only early riser.

"Morning, Cereal Girl," Yang greeted casually, "Guess I shouldn't be surprised the four-time champion's getting a headstart.."

"Oh, I just like to keep my stamina up," Pyrrha said with a soft smile, "And it's a great way to start the day, don't you think?"

"Sure," Jaune said, though he wasn't sure at all. His legs were already starting to burn.

The three of them fell into a steady rhythm, with Yang leading the way, Jaune in the middle, and Pyrrha just behind him, "So," Yang started, her voice playful, "how're you liking team leader life, Jaune?"

"It's... fine," Jaune replied, "Still getting used to it, honestly. Feels weird telling people what to do." That and he'd only been leader for, what, a day? It wasn't like he was a leader of men just yet. Jaune laughed under his breath. He could already hear Cindy saying that was Quitter Talk and he needed to take charge.

"You'll get used to it," Pyrrha said encouragingly, her tone warm, "You did a great job during Initiation."

"Yeah," Yang added with a grin, "Not bad for a guy who didn't even go to combat school. You gotta introduce me to that big sis of yours. We can exchange tips. I need to get Ruby to start taking her unarmed training seriously. Every single time I try, it's always 'But Yang~, I have Crescent Rose! Why do I need to know how to use my fists?'" She groaned, "Like, ever heard of a backup plan, Rubes? Yeesh."

"I mean...doesn't she have a point? I'm not exactly gonna try to fistfight Grimm either."

"Oh, come on!" Yang threw her hands up, her ponytail swishing even more, "Pyrrha, back me up here! You think I'm right!"

"Well...not everyone has the same mindset when it comes to combat," she said diplomatically. Yang pursed her lips in a pout, "Huntsmen have different viewpoints on it. Some believe that you only need mastery of one weapon while others say you need at least two or three. I was taught with the latter mindset in mind, but I know the vast majority of Huntsmen adhere to a specific weapon. Ruby's the same."

"I'm not asking her to learn a whole new weapon or anything, just know how to throw a punch. She can't always carry her 'baby' around. And what if she had to take someone down without putting them in the hospital? That scythe doesn't exactly have a stun setting."

"Hm, maybe I can help there?" Jaune hummed, "I'm no expert on unarmed combat or anything, but Eve thinks the same as you do about needing to know how to fight when your weapon's not in your hands." He had the bruises from her sparring matches to show for it. For some reason, she really liked grappling him till he cried uncle.

"Oh? Perhaps you could teach me some moves then?" Pyrrha said.

"I don't mind, but I'm not sure how much I can really help there. You're a tournament champion, right? You probably know way more than I do. Yang'll probably be a better partner."

"That's not true. I think we can learn a lot from each other." She smiled sweetly. She was so nice, he thought. Cindy always told him celebrities were jerks who had their heads up their asses. Which was how she justified changing the channel every time a singer or some other fighter showed up on the living room TV. Personally, he thought she was over-generalizing there. He never did understand why she only did it whenever female fighters and celebrities showed up...

"Well, if you really think so, then sure! Just tell me when!"

"O-Of course!"

For some reason, Yang raised an eyebrow, lips curling in a sly girn, "Aww, look at you two, already bonding. Isn't that sweet?"

Jaune rolled his eyes, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing," Yang said innocently, though the mischievous glint in her eye said otherwise.

Pyrrha cleared her throat, a faint blush dusting her cheeks, "So, Jaune, are you planning to join any clubs?"

"Clubs?" He blinked, "Do we even have those here?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, smiling again, "There's a combat club, for instance. It could be a great way to hone your skills." A combat club? Wasn't that already a class? Then again, this was a school for Huntsmen. He shouldn't have been surprised, "I took a look at the brochure. It's a place for students from all years to spar and give each other tips. Going up against a fourth year might not end in your victory, but they can make good mentors."

"Sparring, huh?" He scratched the back of his neck, "I dunno. I'm not exactly ready to go up against people who actually know what they're doing." No offense to Eve, of course, but she wasn't exactly a professional trainer.

"You'll never get better if you don't try," Pyrrha said, her voice gentle but firm, "I could help you, if you'd like."

"Really?" Jaune asked, surprised, "You'd do that?"

"Of course." Her smile widened slightly, and Jaune couldn't help but notice how bright her eyes looked in the morning light.

Yang, jogging a few steps ahead, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smirk, "Careful, Jaune. Pyrrha's got a mean right hook. You might not survive the training."

Pyrrha laughed softly, "I promise I'll go easy on him."

"Thanks...I think?" Jaune said.

The three of them continued their jog, the conversation light and easy. As they rounded the final bend back toward the dorms, Jaune felt a strange sense of contentment. Maybe he wasn't the strongest or the smartest, but moments like this—running with his friends, sharing little jokes—made him feel like he might just belong here after all.

If only he could figure out why Yang kept grinning at him like that.

[line break]

Jaune felt a mix of nerves and excitement as he walked into his first official class. It wasn't every day you got to learn about the history of Huntsmen from a real Huntsman—one who also happened to talk faster than most auctioneers. Professor Oobleck's reputation preceded him, and Jaune wasn't sure if he was more worried about keeping up with the material or the man himself. Videos about his lectures were on the Beacon homepage and it gave him a good idea on what the guy was like.

"Team JNPR!" Nora cheered as she skipped ahead of the group, her boundless energy on full display, "First class together! Who's excited?!"

Ren gave a small, amused smile, "I think you've got enough excitement for all of us."

"I'm excited," Pyrrha added with a warm smile, adjusting the strap of her bag, "History is one of my favorite subjects. There's so much to learn from the past. I have a particular interest in the Mistralian warriors of old. Their culture, their fighting styles...it's all so fascinating."

Jaune scratched the back of his head, "Guess it's important to know who swung the first sword, huh?" Maia always said that it didn't matter who swung first. What mattered was making sure you were the one who swung last.

"Or who threw the first hammer!" Nora added enthusiastically.

As they entered the lecture hall, Jaune spotted Team RWBY already seated near the middle. Ruby waved them over with a bright grin, while Yang leaned back in her seat with a lazy wave. Blake sat beside Weiss, her face buried in a book as if she hadn't noticed them at all, "Morning!" Ruby chirped as Team JNPR took their seats on the chairs behind them.

"Hey, Ruby." Jaune smiled. He noticed that Pyrrha sat beside him without hesitation, while Ren and Nora took the other spots.

Blake, however, shifted in her seat. Subtly but noticeably, she angled herself away, scooting closer to Weiss. If Jaune didn't know better, he'd think she was avoiding him, "Where's Professor Oobleck?" Nora asked, drumming her fingers on the desk.

Yang chuckled, "You'll know when he gets here. Guy moves like a caffeine tornado."

As if on cue, the door to the classroom burst open, and a green blur zipped in at an impossible speed, "Good morning, students!" Professor Oobleck's rapid voice filled the room as he darted between desks, a coffee cup clutched tightly in one hand and a stack of papers in the other, "Ah, yes, excellent turnout today! History, my dear students, is the foundation upon which all Huntsmen stand! Without the past, how can we hope to build the future? Now then, let us begin!"

Jaune blinked, barely processing the whirlwind of energy that was their teacher. He quickly flipped open his notebook as Professor Oobleck launched into a rapid-fire lecture about the Great War and its effects on modern Remnant.

Despite Professor Oobleck's frenetic pace, Jaune found himself surprisingly engaged. The man's enthusiasm was infectious, and the way he darted around the room kept things far from boring. He glanced around to see how everyone else was faring. Ruby was furiously scribbling notes, her tongue poking out in concentration, but a quick look showed about half of them were scribbles. Weiss looked as though she had everything memorized already, her posture prim and proper. Yang was leaned back with her arms crossed, clearly more interested in looking like the cool bad girl of taking notes.

And Blake...

Blake was still sitting as far from Jaune as possible. Her book was closed now, and she was taking notes like the rest of them, but there was something off about her. She kept sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, her amber eyes flicking his way before darting back to her notebook.

"Did I do something wrong?" Jaune whispered to Pyrrha, leaning slightly toward her.

"What do you mean?" Pyrrha asked, keeping her voice low.

"Blake," he said, nodding subtly in her direction, "She's acting weird. I don't think she's looked at me directly since we got here."

Pyrrha followed his gaze and tilted her head thoughtfully, "Maybe she's just shy?"

"Shy? Blake?" Jaune snorted quietly, "I saw her run on that Nevermore's back at Initiation. Besides, why would she be shy with me and not anyone else?"

"Well, it's probably nothing," Pyrrha said, giving him a reassuring smile, "You shouldn't let it bother you."

Jaune nodded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely up. Blake wasn't the kind of person to act standoffish for no reason.

As the professor's lecture continued, Jaune tried to focus on the material, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Blake's odd behavior. It wasn't like they'd had much of a chance to talk yet, but he thought they were on friendly terms. What could he have done to make her avoid him?

Blake's odd behavior was eating at him.

Normally, he wouldn't think twice about someone sitting at the opposite end of the room. People were allowed to choose where they wanted to sit. But the way Blake had gone out of her way to keep her distance—not just once, but throughout the whole class—was impossible to ignore. He tried to move his chair forward and she practically jumped to the seat in front of her. Now he knew he wasn't imagining it.

Did he do something to offend her? Jaune frowned, scribbling a half-hearted note about the Mistral-Atlas trade agreement. She seemed fine during Initiation. He didn't think I said anything weird...did he?

His thoughts spiraled through every interaction they'd had, which admittedly weren't many. Maybe he'd stepped on her foot in passing? Or borrowed a chair she wanted? He hadn't accidentally knocked her coffee over or something, had he? No, he was pretty sure he'd remember that.

What the heck did he do?! He'd thrown up on Yang's boots and she was joking around with him like they were old buddies. Was what he did to Blake somehow worse?!

By the time class ended, Jaune was convinced he needed to make things right...even though he had no idea what things' were, "I'll just talk to her," he muttered to himself as they packed up their things, "No big deal, right?"

"What's no big deal?" Pyrrha asked, tilting her head curiously.

"Huh?" Jaune blinked, startled, "Oh, uh, nothing. Just thinking out loud."

Pyrrha gave him an encouraging smile, "If something's on your mind, you can always talk to me about it, Jaune."

"Thanks, Pyrrha." He appreciated her offer, but this was something he had to handle himself. As the teams filed out of the classroom and headed toward the cafeteria, Jaune lagged behind slightly, scanning the crowd for a familiar head of black hair. He spotted Blake walking just ahead with the rest of Team RWBY, her bow twitching slightly (the heck?) as she walked.

Okay, this was his chance.

Jaune picked up his pace, closing the gap between their groups. He was about to call out to her when Blake suddenly turned her head, her amber eyes locking onto him for just a split second.

The moment she realized he was heading her way, her eyes widened. She turned back to her teammates and started walking faster.

Huh?

Jaune blinked, confused, but he wasn't deterred, "Hey, Blake! Can we talk?" he called, quickening his own steps. She didn't respond. In fact, she sped up even more, slipping between Weiss and Yang to put them between herself and Jaune, "Blake, wait up!"

Blake made a sharp turn at the next hallway, her pace now bordering on a light jog.

Jaune stopped in his tracks, his confusion mounting, "What the...?"

"Yo, Vomit Boy!" Yang called back, noticing his hesitation, "You coming or what?"

Jaune hesitated, glancing down the hallway Blake had disappeared into, before sighing and rejoining the group. What just happened?

[line break]

By lunchtime, Jaune was more confused than ever.

He sat at a table with his team and Team RWBY, his tray of food untouched as he mulled over Blake's strange behavior. Of course, Blake wasn't there. Probably avoiding him again, "Alright, Jaune!" Nora said, jabbing her fork in his direction, "Spill it. What's got your face looking like you just failed a pop quiz?"

"It's nothing," Jaune said automatically.

"It's not nothing," Yang said, leaning on the table with a knowing smirk, "You've been out of it all morning. What's up?"

Jaune sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's Blake. I think she's mad at me or something."

"Mad at you?" Ruby repeated, blinking in confusion, "Why would Blake be mad at you?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Jaune said, throwing his hands up, "She's been avoiding me all day. I tried talking to her after class, but she took off like I was chasing her with a Grimm or something!"

"That's weird," Ruby said, frowning thoughtfully, "Blake's usually not like that."

"She's probably just being Blake." Yang said with a shrug, "I've only known her for a couple of days, but I can tell she's not the chatty type."

"I feel like I should, though," Jaune said, resting his chin in his hand, "If I did something wrong, I want to fix it. I just don't know what I did."

Before anyone could reply, a blur of black and white caught Jaune's eye.

It was Blake.

She'd just entered the cafeteria, a tray (full of nothing but fish...) balanced in her arms. As soon as she saw Jaune looking her way, she froze. Her eyes darted around, searching for an escape route, before she quickly veered toward an empty table as far away as possible. She sat down, her back to him, and immediately pulled out a book to bury her nose in, her shoulders haunched and her posture rigid.

Jaune blinked, staring after her in disbelief.

"Okay," he said slowly, "Now I know I did something."

Pyrrha gave him a sympathetic look, "Maybe she just needs some time."

"Time for what?" Jaune groaned, "I don't even know what's wrong!"

"She probably has her reasons," Ruby said, "Blake's...complicated."

Jaune sighed, leaning back in his chair, "I'll figure it out. Somehow."

"Honestly, just leave her alone." Weiss scoffed, looking at Jaune through narrowed eyes, "If Blake's made it clear that she has no wish to talk to you, then let her be. There's nothing worse than someone who doesn't know when to take 'No' for an answer."

"Speaking from experience there, Weisscream?" Yang asked.

"Don't call me that." Oof, she was in a bad mood. Ruby squirmed slightly in her seat but didn't say anything. He hoped that wasn't gonna be a problem...

[line break]

Yang stirred her drink idly, lilac eyes occasionally drifting toward her partner. Blake was sitting alone at a table across the cafeteria. Normally, Yang wouldn't think twice about her partner wanting some alone time—Blake didn't exactly scream "social butterfly"—but the way she was acting today had been...off.

Like, really off.

It wasn't just her usual quiet, bookish demeanor. Yang had only known Blake for a day, but she could already tell this was more than just introversion. Blake seemed like the type who'd keep to herself without making a fuss. Today, though, she'd been actively avoiding Jaune, going out of her way to keep distance between them.

Yang leaned back in her chair, tilting her head thoughtfully. Why would Blake act like that? She barely knew Jaune, so what could he have possibly done to make her so jumpy? The guy was harmless. A human golden retriever. He was so awkward that she didn't even really care that he puked on her favorite pair of boots a couple of days ago (not that she'd stop giving him shit for it, of course. Prime teasing material right there).

Her mind wandered back to yesterday. It all started when Jaune showed them that picture of his family. He'd been so proud, pointing out his parents, his biological sister Saphron, and all his adopted sisters. Everyone had a good laugh at how chaotic his family sounded—especially Yang—but then he got to Eve.

Yang didn't think much of it at the time. Eve was a Faunus, and Jaune made it clear he adored her. He mentioned she was the one who trained him in combat, which immediately piqued Yang's interest. But Blake...

Blake had frozen, her expression carefully neutral, but her body language told a different story. She might've seemed like a dumb blonde to most idiots, but she was a Huntress and her fighting style had her be up-close and personal to her opponents. She could read muscles like an open book. Her shoulders had stiffened, and her fingers twitched faintly, almost like she was nervous. Then she just left without even getting her tray.

Weird.

Yang drummed her fingers against the table, her thoughts moving to history class earlier.

Oobleck had been rambling a mile a minute about the Faunus War, jumping from key events to the socio-political fallout without missing a beat. Yang had zoned out for most of it, but then some douchebag's obnoxious voice snapped her out of her daze, "Exploited labor? More like free labor," A guy in a crew cut and full armor said, smirking, "Faunus shouldn't complain so much. They should be grateful they're even allowed to work for us."

Yang had been about to say something - probably something about how he had a tiny dick and was clearly overcompensating - when she noticed Blake's reaction. Blake had gone still, her pen frozen mid-note. Her head dipped slightly, her bangs casting shadows over her face as she scribbled something in her notebook. She didn't speak up or glare at the guy. She didn't even look at him. Instead, she seemed to shrink into herself, like she wanted to disappear.

Yang let out a frustrated groan, slumping forward onto the table, "What is going on with you, Blake?" Her partner was a mystery, and Yang hated mysteries. Especially when they involved people she was supposed to trust. She liked it when people were upfront and told you everything straight up. Love? Hate? Didn't matter. She could deal with both as long as someone said it to her face.

Okay, think, Yang. When did Blake start acting weird? Breakfast. When Jaune mentioned Eve. Then in class, when Oobleck talked about the Faunus War. And again, when that asshole made that crappy comment about Faunus.

Yang's brow furrowed as the pieces clicked together. Blake got weird every time the subject of Faunus came up. She either avoided it, stayed quiet, or, in Jaune's case, actively avoided the person connected to it.

...

Wait a second...

Yang sat up straighter, her eyes widening slightly, "No way."

Could Blake be...racist?

Yang's stomach twisted at the thought. She barely knew Blake, but the idea didn't sit right with her. Blake didn't seem like a bad person. Sure, she was quiet and kind of standoffish, but racist? That felt like a stretch.

...

Then again, every time the topic of Faunus came up, Blake acted weird. She avoided talking about them, kept her mouth shut when that douchebag ran his mouth, and now she was avoiding Jaune because of his Faunus sister. The first two she could kinda brush off, but the last one? What other reason could there be? She was totally fine when Jaune was pointing out the rest of his sisters, but the second he got to the Faunus one? Suddenly she had to leave and she treated Jaune like he had the plague.

Yang sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, 'Great. My partner's a closet racist. Just my luck.' Still, she couldn't just write Blake off like that. She barely knew her, and there was always the chance she was misunderstanding things. But if Blake really did have an issue with Faunus..."Well," Yang muttered, determination sparking in her eyes, "guess it's up to me to fix that."

"Fix what?" Ruby asked. Yang ignored her, too caught up in her own problems. She wasn't sure how she'd do it yet, but Yang Xiao Long wasn't about to let her partner walk around with outdated, narrow-minded views. If Blake had a problem with Faunus, Yang was going to set her straight.

One way or another.

[line break]

It didn't take long for Jaune to notice the tension between Ruby and Weiss. While Blake was avoiding him, Weiss was full-on confrontational with Ruby. Making snippy comments, muttering under her breath, and glaring at Ruby with that 'harrumph' look on her face that looked distinctly Atlesian. Maybe it was wrong for him to say that, but those guys just had a way of saying 'I'm better than you and I don't have to explain why'.

Then again, maybe he was biased. He'd been so caught up with his excitement with entering Beacon yesterday that Weiss practically slipped his mind. Weiss Schnee. As in, the heiress to the SDC, which were pretty well-known for their 'controversial' business practices. Quotation marks because that was the word the news used. He would've gone with something like 'really fucked up and evil', if he had his way.

There wasn't a lot of Faunus in Domremy, but he knew about what they had to deal with. Hard not to when your big sis came into the family with the SDC brand on her face and her eye permanently blinded. He'd been so angry when he first saw it. Even a kid like him knew that only a monster would do something like that to another person. And now he was classmates with the out and proud heiress of that company. The future CEO of Racism, to use Emerald's words.

A part of him wanted to snap at Weiss, but he knew it'd be wrong. Ruby was the one dealing with problems from her, not him. It wouldn't be fair to use Ruby's troubles as a springboard for his own issues.

Of course, that hesitation didn't last much longer.

It was during Professor Port's class. Jaune was expecting a lot from the old Huntsman, especially since, unlike Professor Oobleck, he didn't have any guesses on what he'd be like. He had to admit, he got kinda carried away. He'd grown up hearing stories about Huntsmen. The heroes of Remnant, the unbending wall against the relentless tide of Grimm. Huntsmen weren't just celebrities like pop idols or movie stars. They were...They were legends in the making! Well, some of them, at least, but still!

So he was kinda disappointed with the guy who came into the room. Now, Mom and Dad taught him never to judge by appearances, and he kept that lesson close to heart like the good son he was. Still, having to listen to him drone on for the next hour was like being relentlessly pranked by Neo over the course of a week. It was slow, painful, and not as fun as it sounded.

He could deal with droning lectures. Roma, bless her soul, had a bad habit of going on rambling plans about how she'd steal this or that from whatever place she thought she (and Neo, of course) could break into. Roma always was a fan of those old Phantom Thief shows they used to watch when they were younger.

No, what made Professor Port hard to deal with was that his lectures barely had anything to do with, you know, killing Grimm. The story he was telling the class started off with him being attacked by an Ursa Major. Cool. What wasn't cool was him immediately segwaying to talking about the tea he drank and going into painful detail why that tea was so much better than chamomile and that the Ursa surely was attracted to the scent of tea and not, you know, the big Human it thought it could maul.

Jaune was halfway to falling asleep when the Professor stepped out of the room and came back pushing something that was covered with a tarp. The class immediately stood at attention when they saw it shaking and heard the growls and sounds of crashing metal, "I think a practical demonstration would work for the best, wouldn't you say?"

He pulled down the tarp and most of the class sat up straighter when they saw a Boarbatusk in a cage under it. It growled and rammed the bars, causing the cage to rattle, "Woah..." Jaune muttered. He'd fought Grimm before Initiation, of course, but only ever out in the wilds. Eve taught him that catching Grimm was nigh-impossible. They'd either destroy the cage or themselves before the day was done, assuming it took that long.

"Now, who's willing to-"

"Me!" Weiss said, sitting up straighter with her right arm raised. The entire class turned to look at her, but she didn't care in the least. Jaune pursed his lips. He wanted to fight it...

"Hoho! It seems Ms. Schnee is eager! Well then, change into your combat outfit and get into position!" Weiss practically preened as she walked down the steps. Jaune tried not to let his preconceptions make him annoyed. Yes, she was a Schnee, and that family was undeniably amoral at best, but maybe...Weiss was different? She was here training as a Huntress, after all, instead of just lording it up in Atlas like Jacques Schnee and his wife.

The benefit of the doubt lasted less than a couple of minutes.

Weiss was struggling with the Boarbatusk. He didn't know if it was just her having an off-day or the Grimm was even more agitated than usual after being caged, but the result was the same either way. Weiss found herself on the backfoot from the Grimm's relentless attacks while her own counters barely damaged its thick hide.

"Weiss, aim for its stomach!" Ruby shouted, "Its unarmored! You can-"

"Stop telling me what to do!" Weiss shouted back. Ruby flinched like she'd been hit and shrunk back in her seat.

Weiss managed to kill the Boarbatusk soon after, but Jaune couldn't even pretend to pay attention to that. All his focus was on Ruby. She looked like someone just kicked her puppy. Weiss stood up and flipped her hair, trying to act like it was all effortless, but no one on her team was cheering. Ruby still had the 'hurt puppy' look, Yang looked pissed, and Blake...well, she was still looking at anywhere but him, so no change there.

Jaune waited till class was over to try and talk to Ruby, "Hey, Ru-" He barely got the words out before Ruby stood up and went after Weiss, who left as soon as the bell rang. He shared a brief glance with Yang. His fellow blonde looked torn. Jaune nodded and quickly ran after her. There had to be a reason Yang wasn't immediately going after them, but he didn't have one.

He ran down the hall and debated on where to go before he heard Ruby's voice, "-thought you believed in acting as a team!" she said. Jaune followed the source and rounded the corner just in time to hear Weiss' response.

"Not a team led by you." Jaune stopped. He couldn't see ruby's face, but he didn't need to, "I've studied, I've trained, and frankly, I deserve better!" Weiss turned around, her arms crossed. Like she was the victim in all this, "Ozpin made a mistake."

He was about to call out when Ruby's shoulders shook and she sped away with her Semblance. Weiss didn't even look back, and she looked like she was about to walk away with her head held high when Jaune spoke up, "...You know, you're right. The headmaster did make a mistake. I can't believe he let someone like you into Beacon."

Weiss whirled around to face him, her face knotted in an ugly scowl, "Excuse me?!"

"You're a brat," Jaune said. All the lessons he remembered about being polite and not judging fell to the wayside. He tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, but she'd shown that sometimes, first impressions really were right, "Ruby's done nothing but try to help you and all you're doing is acting like the world owes you just because of who you are." Flashes of Eve's scarred eye burned at the front of his mind, "Huntsmen are supposed to help people. But I can't see you helping anyone except yourself."

"You don't know me, Arc!" Weiss stomped up to him till they were just a few inches apart. Despite being a head shorter than him (and maybe half his weight), Weiss looked up at him without any hesitation, "You haven't seen the way Ruby's been acting. She's supposed to be our leader, but she's done nothing but be an immature child! I've been trained to be a leader my whole life. I would certainly do a better job in the position than her."

"I've seen what Schnee leadership looks like. What, you gonna brand your teammates if they talk back?"

Weiss' eyes widened in furious indignation, "How dare you?! You-"

Jaune shook his head and left, ignoring Weiss' screams behind him. Talking to her was pointless. She was someone who grew up with a silver spoon in her mouth and was never told no, he was sure of it. All his talking was like static to her. No, he wasn't gonna bother with her."

It took him a quarter of an hour to find Ruby, "Oh...hey, Jaune." She was standing in front of a vending machine, but she wasn't getting anything.

"...Hey." He inserted a lien card and got a couple of chocolate bars plus some water. Neither of them said a word to the other as the machine whirred to life and depostied two bars in the pickup slot. Jaune took one and handed the other to Ruby, which she accepted with a mumbled 'thanks'. The pair sat next to the food dispenser, their backs against the wall. If Maia was here, she would've made a crack about how they looked like they were trying to make an angsty metalcore cover.

"...Was she right?" Ruby asked.

"Huh?"

"Weiss. Was she right? Do you think Ozpin made a mistake?"

"I don't think so." Jaune shook his head, "It's only been a couple of days since we got here. Even if you were a bad leader - and I'm not saying you are - there's no way Weiss would've had the time to make a proper judgment call." He took a bite out of the chewy bar, "She just wants to be the leader."

"Yeah. She told me as much yesterday."

"I'm not surprised." Jaune sighed, "People like her...they always grew up expecting everything to be handed to them just because of who they are. What's she done to prove that she deserves to be the leader?" Ruby didn't respond, "I saw how you led your team during Initiation. You were the one who came up with that plan to stop the Nevermore. Weiss didn't."

"Yeah, but...I think she might have a point." Ruby took a bite of her own bar, "Not about her being the leader, but me being immature. I'm supposed to be the leader, so I can't just goof off anymore."

"That's fine. You need to know when to take things seriously, but you also can't be serious 24/7 like she is. You know what they say about all work and no play." Or as Neo put it, 'work only when you have to, and try to find ways to get out if it even then'. Oh, and a lot of picket signs about how 'taxation is theft'. Which was weird considering Domremy barely had any taxes.

"Sure, but all play and no work isn't any good either." She stuck her tongue out. Cute. She reminded him of Neo...except without the stab-happy tendencies, "Thanks, Jaune. I'll...I'll talk with Weiss."

"I'm not sure that'll do any good."

"Maybe, maybe not, but I have to try. That's what a good leader does." She stood and finished off her chocolate bar before tossing the crumpled wrapper at a nearby trash can. Three points, "Thanks again for coming to cheer me up. See ya!" She left with another burst of her Semblance. Jaune wished he could smile like that, but he still had his doubts. Ruby wanted to see the best in people, and that was admirable, but Weiss had given her no reason to. He didn't like the idea of her being taken advantage of.

He stood up and was about to head off when a new voice cut in, "Nice one, Jaune." He almost stumbled forward when a hard hand slapped his back.

"Y-Yang..." Jaune said, trying to keep balance. He was used to hard hits, but Yang was a league all on her own, "You saw that, huh? I didn't really do much."

"Psh, false modesty ain't a good look, VB. You know, I like guys who own it more than the ones that act modest." She winked at him.

"Noted." He coughed, "I'm kinda surprised you didn't do it on your own. I could tell you wanted to."

"Yeah..." She sighed and rubbed a hand at the back of her head, "I wanna give Weiss a piece of my mind too, but I gotta hold back. Ruby's growing up now and she's the leader too. How's it gonna look if her big sis comes in and bails her out every time? Truth be told, I wasn't even planning to be on the same team as her. Me and Dad figured that Beacon was a good time for her to stretch her wings. I'll be there if she really needs help, but for now, she needs to learn how to handle this on her own."

"I'm...not sure I agree, but I respect the decision." Then again, he was the guy with seven sisters and he was the baby of the bunch.

"You handled it pretty well, though."

"I've got experience." Jaune laughed under his breath. Seven sisters meant a lot of arguments. Eve and Cinder were the worst. They were still family at the end of the day, but the two had a lot of arguments growing up. It only got worse when he turned seventeen a couple of months back, "You could say I'm an expert on arguments." Granted, that was usually mediating instead of one side being totally, one hundred percent wrong.

"Either way, I appreciate it."

"No problem. Ruby's a friend." He stretched his arms above his head, "Come on, let's get to the next class."

[line break]

Jaune adjusted his grip on Crocea Mors as he stepped into the combat arena, trying his best to appear calm despite the pit in his stomach. The air in the room buzzed with anticipation, the entire class whispering and exchanging glances.

How did he get myself into this?

Well, he knew how. Weiss had all but demanded a duel, her voice dripping with outrage, declaring she would 'teach him the meaning of respect' after their fight earlier. Professor Goodwitch, ever the professional, had given him the option to refuse, but Jaune couldn't back down. Not in front of his friends, not with Weiss looking at him like he was some grimy peasant who wandered into her ballroom. That 'I'll teach you to learn your place' look she gave him was pissing her off.

And now here he was, standing across from the Heiress of the Schnee Dust Company herself, with no idea how he was supposed to win, "Ms. Schnee," Professor Goodwitch said, her voice clipped, "you will control your emotions. This is an exercise, not a personal duel." Weiss tilted her head slightly in acknowledgment but didn't respond, her pale blue eyes focused entirely on Jaune. She looked every bit the picture of discipline and refinement, Myrtenaster gleaming in her hand, her stance textbook-perfect.

Jaune wasn't sure if he was more annoyed or intimidated.

"Mr Arc," Professor Goodwitch continued, "Are you certain you wish to proceed?"

He hesitated, glancing at Weiss again. She looked calm and composed, but he caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth. Was she irritated or amused? "Yeah," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt, "I'll fight her."

Goodwitch nodded, stepping back, "Very well. Take your positions. Remember the rules. A winner is declared as soon as one side has their Aura dip into yellow or they're knocked out of the arena."

Jaune exhaled slowly as he moved to his starting spot. Crocea Mors felt heavier in his hand than usual. This wasn't gonna be fun, but he refused to back down from her. Eve would never forgive him if he backed down from Weiss Schnee of all people.

"Begin!"

Weiss moved with blinding speed, propelled forward by a Glyph that appeared under her feet in a flash of white. Her rapier darted toward him, and Jaune barely managed to bring his shield up in time. The force of the strike sent a jolt through his arm, and before he could fully recover, she was already repositioning, her movements precise and fluid, "Is this the best you can do?" Weiss sneered, her voice as cutting as her sword.

"Nope," Jaune grunted, stumbling back to gain some distance. She was faster, more skilled, and clearly better trained. He wasn't surprised. She could afford the best tutors and commission the best kind of weapon to play into her strengths. He was using a family heirloom that didn't have mechashift and coiuldn't even use Dust.

But Eve always told him there was more to a fight than skill.

As Weiss closed in again, Jaune dropped his sword mid-swing. She blinked, startled by the unexpected move, and in that split second, he swung his shield upward, smacking her wrist hard enough to knock Myrtenaster out of line. She recovered quickly, but not before Jaune had retrieved his sword, Weiss's eyes narrowed, "Is this what you call strategy? Tossing your weapon like a fool?"

"Hey, if it works..." Jaune shrugged, ignoring the way his heart pounded in his chest.

"Don't expect it to work again, Arc." Weiss pressed the attack, her movements growing sharper, more aggressive. Jaune found himself dodging and deflecting more than he could strike, his mind racing for a way to turn the tide. He barely stumbled back before she swung the rapier in a wide arc, fire shooting from the tip. The heat of the Fire Dust made him sweat and he winced as his Aura went down when the flames licked his skin.

Time to play dirty.

The next time she lunged, Jaune waited until the last possible moment before sidestepping and shoving his shield forward. Not at Weiss, but at the ground. A small cloud of dirt and dust puffed up, momentarily obscuring her vision, "Really?" Weiss snapped, coughing slightly as she waved the dust away.

"Sorry!" Jaune called back, completely unapologetic,

He followed up by grabbing at the water bottle in his hoodie pocket and lopping the top off with his sword, flinging it at her feet as she finally charged again. Her heel caught on the sudden puddle, and she stumbled slightly, giving him just enough of an opening to land a solid hit with his shield.

Weiss staggered, her Aura flickering faintly as it dropped closer to the yellow. Her glare could've frozen fire, "You fight like a street thug," she hissed.

"Thanks," Jaune said, flashing a grin despite the sweat dripping down his face.

The duel continued with Jaune relying on every underhanded trick he could think of to keep up. He faked swings, tripped her up with the edge of his shield, and even feigned a stumble to lure her into overextending. Weiss countered every move with increasingly precise strikes, but her frustration was evident. He was seriously regretting not carrying some pocket sand (or Dust) and not having the foresight to bring his tazer with him.

Both their Auras were flickering dangerously close to yellow by the time Weiss finally lost her patience, "Enough of this nonsense!" she snapped, summoning multiple Glyphs in rapid succession. The arena lit up with white light as she propelled herself forward, her rapier aimed directly at Jaune's chest.

Jaune gritted his teeth, readying himself. He dodged the first hit, but Weiss continued. The next glyph propelled her forward again, and Jaune took a glancing stab before he was able to dodge again. It didn't matter. The next Glyph propelled her forward again with even more speed and he found himself trapped in a barrage of stabs and slashes.

He planted his feet and swung his shield upward, deflecting the next strike just enough to sidestep and slam his sword against her side. Weiss cried out as her Aura dipped into the yellow, but her momentum carried her forward, slamming into Jaune with the force of of a freight train. The impact sent him tumbling backward, his body skidding across the arena floor until he hit the edge and fell out of bounds. Weiss barely managed to avoid falling off the edge herself.

The buzzer rang, "Match over!" Professor Goodwitch declared, "Draw. Ms. Schnee's Aura reached the yellow, and Mr. Arc has been ringed out."

The arena was silent for a moment before the murmurs started. Jaune groaned, lying flat on his back as he stared at the ceiling, "That...was brutal."

"You got lucky, Arc," Weiss said, panting heavily as she stood just inside the ring. Despite her obvious exhaustion, she still managed to flip her hair and look smug.

Nora's voice rang out from the sidelines, "You were awesome, fearless leader!" Jaune sat up slowly, wincing at the ache in his limbs. Weiss shot him one last glare before turning on her heel and walking away without a word.

Yang clapped him on the back as he shuffled off the arena floor, "Cheer up, VB. You might not have won, but you definitely got under her skin. That's a win in my book."

Jaune gave her a tired but satisfied grin, "Yeah, sure. Let's go with that."

He watched the rest of the sparring matches. Some people chose to fight their partners while others grabbed people seemingly at random. Ruby herself chose to fight with Pyrrha, and he wasn't really surprised when Pyrrha demolished her in the fight. To her credit, Ruby didn't pout or whine. Instead, she gushed about Pyrrha's skills, which his partner accepted with a demure smile. Nora, of course, chose to fight Ren, with the other man treating it with a resigned sigh.

He was changing back into his uniform with the rest of the students in the communal locker when he heard it, "Ruby, I wish to...apologize." That was Weiss' voice. He wasn't crude enough to lean over, but he did keep his ears open, "My behavior this morning was...unbecoming, and I've been unfair to you. Would it be possible for us to start over with a clean slate? I promise to do my best to be a good teammate."

"Huh? O-Oh! Well, great!" Ruby replied happily, "No problem! Clean slate!"

Jaune frowned. It looked like they solved their problems, but Jaune had his doubts. Weiss was probably just trying to save face and make herself look better. And why wouldn't she? High class people like her always knew when to put on a good face. It didn't mean they actually changed, of course. Her dad was the same. Talking on the news about initiatives and these new programs to ensure employees were treated fairly. He didn't need Eve or Cinder to tell him it was a load of bullshit.

He shook his head. He'd help Ruby when she needed it, but if she was willing to give her a chance, then that was her choice.

Jaune returned to his room with a pleasant ache across his body. He still didn't really like Weiss, but at least she was a good person to fight. Eve was a good teacher, of course, but he couldn't help but think that she was unconsciously going easy on him. No chance of that with Weiss, at least.

He sat down at his desk, writing a group message to his sisters about what happened today. He wasn't going to tell them everything, but Eve and Cinder insisted he write every couple of days. Or every day. They were really insistent on that.

Across from Jaune on her bed, Pyrrha chewed on her lip as she watched her partner tap his scroll. She'd pushed the initiative by inviting Jaune to spar with her, but she needed to do more. Was it odd for her to say that she'd become fond of him despite the short time they spent together? She shook her head. No, of course not. It was fine. They were partners - friends - and it wasn't odd for her to feel like this. This was why she went to Beacon, after all. To make friends with those who saw her as more than the Invincible Girl.

In Team RWBY's dorm. the atmosphere was equally chaotic.

Weiss pursed her lips as she studied on the desk. Her talk with Professor Port had pushed her to admit that perhaps she was wrong in being so judgemental to Ruby, but her feelings for Jaune Arc hadn't changed. He was a crude country boy who thought she knew her. She sneered. Far too many people made assumptions of her simply because of her identity. As if she was nothing more than her last name. She'd find a way to pay him back for those comments he made. A Schnee always repaid their debts.

Lying down on her bed, Yang's mind was a jumble. She wanted to help Ruby, but she also had to worry about Blake. She needed to find a way to change her partner's 'dated' views on the Faunus. She was Yang Xiao Long, damn it, and she wasn't gonna be partners with a racist!

Inside the restroom, Blake washed her face and looked at her haggard reflection. She needed to stay away from Jaune Arc. A shudder ran through her as she remembered what caused her to leave the White Fang. The sight of Eve - her idol, her inspiration - naked and worshipping at a shrine devoted to Arc. When she found her, Blake had assumed that Eve would be ashamed or try to explain herself. Tell her that this was all a misunderstanding. Blake would've wilfully deluded herself if Eve at least tried.

Instead, she smiled proudly and said that Blake would be the second one to 'experience' Jaune when the group was ready. After herself, of course. It was the least she could do for her most faithful disciple, Eve said. To achieve true pleasure with Jaune.

Blake left within the hour.

Back outside, Ruby looked at Weiss, then Yang, then the locked bathroom door. Her shoulders sagged. This wasn't gonna be easy...

[line break]

Poor Ruby. Poor Blake too. Join an ideology to fight for equality, find out your idol is a simp for her adopted bro and is planning to start a cult with you as the second wife. She might've preferred Canon Adam to this...

Question:

1. Do you think Jaune is justified in the way he treats Weiss or is he being a judgemental asshole? He's definitely biased against her given Eve being his sister, but she hasn't really done anything to dispel the notion that she's an entitled snob given the way she acts. Her telling Ruby that Ozpin made a mistake choosing her is canon dialogue, for example.

Fractal Chaos - Chapter 8

Been a while, huh? Technically, this is also a Seasons update. Enjoy.

Prime Ruby is also rather cynical in this chapter, continuing her spiral from the last ones. Don't worry, she'll get better, but seeing versions of themselves that avoided the Fall is really getting on her nerves.

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Weiss liked to think of herself as brave. She had, after all, fought an Arma Gigas and risked serious injury for the sake of her independence, and she chose to become a Huntress, which entailed a life of constant risk fighting against the Grimm and others that meant Remnant harm. No matter how skilled you were, there was no such thing as a risk-free life as a Huntsman. Many of them didn't die in bed, and Weiss had long since accepted the fact that she could die on the battlefield one day.

Those feelings were only exacerbated after the Fall of Beacon. She ran away from the manor knowing full well she would likely perish fighting whatever malevolent force destroyed her second home. Finding out about Salem - particularly her immortality - had been a blow. How were they meant to stand against such a monster when their predecessors had only survived? Despite all that, she continued on, determined to help her friends save this flawed but beautiful world.

...

And yet now, she found herself terrified.

Weiss gulped as the Bullhead landed at the edge of the coastal settlement. It wasn't the first time she'd seen a Leviathan. The first time had been their (admittedly poorly conceived...) plan to get themselves into Atlas indirectly led to it nearly ravaging Argus. She'd put on a brave front at the time, of course, but there was an undeniable fear in seeing something so colossal and knowing you were one of the few things that stood between it and countless innocents.

The Leviathan surged through the water like an unrelenting wave. While the Grimm was slow - thank small mercies - it didn't change the fact that it was a nigh-unstoppable force. From where she stood, Weiss saw multiple airships making bombing runs that the creature ignored as it continued its slow but steady stride. The Colossus was still undergoing repairs, and even if it wasn't, there wouldn't be enough time to transport something of its size here from Argus before the Leviathan leveled the settlement.

Villagers were being evacuated, though it was hectic all-around. While the vast majority were willing to leave for very obvious reasons, a few stubborn holdouts argued about taking their belongings with them. Others still stubbornly claimed that their bunkers would be enough to survive the Leviathan's rampage. She wasn't surprised. Stubbornness was a common trait for those living outside the walls. Their sense of independence was fostered by surviving in the unforgiving tundra. Seeing it for herself was both impressive and annoying.

Despite the chaos happening around them, Schwartz walked on ahead like all was right with the world. Weiss jogged briefly to keep up with her and tried to ignore the slight tremor in her step. If need be, she'd stand her ground without hesitation, but the logical part of her understood that she may as well have been a fly swatting at a bear. No amount of Dust or stabs from Myrtenaster would pierce through that monster's skin. Not even Ruby's precious Crescent Rose.

"You're taking this rather well," Weiss said, forcing her voice to remain level despite her trepidation.

"Hm? I suppose it seems that way." Schwartz shrugged, continuing her stable pace, "You could say it comes from experience."

"You've faced Leviathans before?" Weiss' eyes trailed down to her counterpart's left hand again. Like Yang, she wore the prosthetic with no sense of shame, and the design made it look elegant. Too elegant. She could almost imagine some vapid noble deliberately slicing off their limb for that replacement. The Atlesian upper class was a competition of excess with many of them trying to outdo the other. Who had the the prettier wives, the higher stocks, the more extravagant mansions. Why not something as grim as their own flesh?

After all, that was what they were to Father. Accomplishments he could parade around.

"Our team hasn't made a habit of it, but yes, we've faced its like beforehand." Schwartz flexed the artificial fingers. She knew it was wrong to focus on it so much, but it was...her. Well, not exactly her, but a version of her, "It's good that we were given advanced warning. Hopefully, we'll be able to stop it before it reaches the coast proper. I'd hate to see these people lose their homes. Or worse." Her eyes lingered on the people still stubbornly insisting on their bunkers.

"Perhaps it's presumptuous of me to say, but you seem rather confident about this." Weiss gripped Myrtenaster tightly. Her counterpart's confidence was relieving, certainly, but she still had her doubts. She knew their counterparts were all Maidens, and she knew from...personal experience how deadly a deranged madwoman like Cinder could be, but would it be enough to stop a Grimm that could (in)famously level entire cities with its mere steps?

"As I said, we speak from experience. And..." She looked up, mouth curling in a wry smile, "Looks like you'll see for yourself."

Before Weiss could ask what she meant, what looked like a comet surged overhead, blazing with enough warmth that Weiss felt it even from the ground. Weiss watched in awe as it flew and struck the Leviathan's elongated head with enough force to make it stagger back, roaring in both shock and pain. The few airships close by wobbled slightly and quickly pulled back. Schwartz sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"A little warning might've been nice, Yang," she said.

Weiss only glanced at her counterpart before looking back at the Leviathan. The comet - Yin - flew back around and hit it in the face again. The Leviathan stumbled back once more, causing tremors that shook the freezing ocean. The Leviathan didn't get the chance to try and counter before a dark cloud suddenly manifested over its head and a blinding bolt of lightning stuck down with enough force and heat to burn through a portion of its skull plate.

It was...quite a sight.

As if that wasn't absurd enough, what looked to be a tornado suddenly appeared in front of the giant monstrosity, slicing at its onyx hide, "And that would be Ruby." Schwartz laughed under her breath, "At least I have confirmation they're all here. Now, we should deal with this disturbance."

"I'm afraid my help will be...limited." For one of the few times in her life, Weiss suddenly felt small.

"Don't worry, I don't expect you to climb the thing. If our places were reversed, I wouldn't." Schwartz unsheathed her own Myrtenaster, her (unscarred...) eyes gleaming with light blue flames. The chill in the air was noticeable enough that even Weiss shivered despite having grown up in freezing temperatures, "I expect Yang will need some help. Ruby and Blake will keep at range, we'll keep it distracted in melee. But a burst of speed would be helpful."

"Time Dilation," Weiss said. It'd been...huh, far too long since she used it. It would've been far better off when she faced that bandit in Haven.

"Exactly." Schwartz gave her a smile, "Use it on me. I'll use it on myself as well."

"You want to double-up on Time Dilation? Is that...safe?"

"I admit I've never done it before, but given the circumstances, I think a little risk isn't all that odd. Besides." Her counterpart's eyes twinkled with just a hint of mischief, "Don't tell me you aren't curious if the effects aren't cumulative or even multiplicative."

"...No comment."

"Hm. Spoilsport." Weiss blinked. Seriously? "Don't worry, I'll be the one taking the risks here regardless. If either of our Jaunes were here, I'd suggest them amplifying our Semblances to get a quadruple boost, but needs must." The reminder of Jaune made Weiss chew on her lower lip. Given her counterpart's comments, she knew he was safe, but it was difficult to not worry even just a bit, "Now come on, let's do this before Yang has all the fun."

"You have odd definitions of fun," Weiss muttered, readying the glyphs.

"When you've spent the past two months advertising and rallying instead of fighting Grimm, you tend to get antsy."

With a burst of yellow light, Schwartz was covered in Weiss' Time Dilation. Her own Time Dilation went off soon after and Weiss stepped back as her counterpart seemed to vibrate with motion. With a speed that almost put Ruby's Petal Burst to shame, Schwartz launched forward with a nearly deafening shockwave. A few of the soldiers and citizens covered their ears while Weiss stubbornly refused to look away, watching as Schwartz flew straight at the Leviathan's torso...

...And right through it.

...

Weiss didn't know whether to be impressed or shocked at the sight of it. The Leviathan literally froze mid-step as Schwartz shot through its torso like a bullet through unarmored flesh. Following her wave, a giant ice spike pierced through the 'small' hole she made, impaling the titanic grimm and leaving it stuck in place. She almost felt sorry seeing it try to pull itself from the spike while the rest of their Maiden counterparts continued their assault. Fire, lightning, wind, ice...it was full-on elemental barrage.

The Leviathan didn't last a minute. With one last roar, it slumped deeper into the spike before dissipating into nothing like all its kind did.

"Hey!" Ruby- no, Rose sprinted down to where Weiss was, skidding along the ground and scraping snow under her boots. Belle and the rest of team RWBY joined her soon after, Ruby, Yang, and Blake staring at the still-jutting ice spike less than a mile from the coast. The villagers and the Atlesian soldiers were similarly in shock, which she couldn't blame them for. Even after everything she'd seen the past couple of years, it was undeniably an awe-inspiring sight.

Grimly, her mind wandered to the possibility of what would've happened if they hadn't gotten an all-Maiden version of their team...

"Hey!" Rose said again, jumping in front of Weiss, "Is that Weiss? Uh, I mean our Weiss? You get it."

"I...yes, it is." Weiss nodded numbly, barely able to look at her best friend's maiden reflection.

"What's she doing here? I thought it was just the three of us and we'd be sent back?" Belle asked, arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. She wasn't suspicious of Weiss personally, but something about the situation had obviously rubbed her wrong.

"We already said we don't know much more than you guys about this dimensional stuff," Ruby said, her voice sounding oddly clipped, "I'm guessing Nora was the one who got swapped?" she asked Weiss.

"Mm." Weiss nodded again.

"Holy shit. You all saw that, right? Cause...holy shit," Yang said, eloquent as always.

"We were all here, Yang. We saw it." Blake breathed into her palms, "We got lucky."

"Seems like that's happening a lot lately." Ruby hummed. Weiss blinked at how downbeat she sounded. Also, she personally disagreed. Lucky? They were barely scraping by ever since Beacon fell. These dimensional swaps were just the latest in a long line of mixed blessings. It worked out for them now, of course, but Blake's previous counterpart was a sobering reminder that not every unintended visitor would be as friendly and cooperative.

Weiss didn't get the chance to ask what happened before Schwartz and Yin landed not too far away. They couldn't have looked more different if they tried. Yin, with her hair still blazing, landed roughly like a phoenix descending from the heavens. The snow around her boots melted from the heat, and she flipped her hair as the flames died down, a cocky smirk on her face that somehow managed to look even more smug than Yang's.

By contrast, Schwartz was more graceful, landing gently while a cold wing gently blew around her. The light blue fire around her eyes added a graceful edge to her presence, and her prosthetic seemed to shine in the light. Weiss was suddenly reminded of that old nickname back at Beacon that she used to hate. Snow Angel. It seemed appropriate now given the looks of reverent awe many of the citizens gave the pair.

Schwartz hummed and dusted off her skirt like she'd just finished a minor inconvenience. Perhaps to her, it was. They'd dealt with it like it was nothing more than an irate Ursa, "Well, that's th-"

"Hey, look who I found!" Yin said, cutting off her nonchalant one-liner. The (literally) fiery blonde wrapped an arm around her shoulder and dragged her forward, ignoring her yelps and protests, "The team's all here! Team RWBY from two universes, baby!"

"Maybe try not to announce that out loud?" Belle rolled her eyes.

"Pfft, we just killed a Leviathan! I think that's more important than whatever I'm saying."

"It's to see you again, Weiss! How's everyone back home?" Rose asked.

"About the same. Waiting for the day you all get back. Well, me included now." She shrugged off Yin's arm, "What happened? We were told that the change would only last for a couple of days at most. What happened?"

"The temporal device - that's what we're calling the thing that's causing the switches - was taken down for repairs. That's why we couldn't switch back." Blake put a hand on her chin, "But if that's the case, how did Schwartz and Nora get swapped?"

"A problem with the repairs, maybe?" Ruby asked, "Penny didn't say anything, though..."

"We can talk about that later. First, me and Yin gotta tell you guys something," Yang said, her voice suddenly serious. Yin matched her reflection's sudden shift, her smile fading as she gave the rest of their counterparts a knowing look, "We ran into a...weird Grimm earlier. It was..." She shook her head, "Look, it's hard to explain. We left the body back at Atlas cause of this Leviathan thing. Then again, I probably shoulda just stayed behind considering we did fuck all here..."

"Body? What do you mean body? Grimm dissipate on death." Weiss said.

"Not this one. It's...look, let's just go back. Yin says it'll be easier to explain with General Ironwood there too."

"Right..."

"We need to check in with this Polendina too," Belle said, "Weiss showing up here apparently isn't normal either from what you've told us. Split up?"

"I'll go with Belle," Blake said, "Belle, seems like you were already told what that new Grimm is, so just tell me on the way to the lab."

"I can go with you as well," Schwartz said, "If I'm correct on what this new Grimm is-"

"Yep," Yin cut in.

"Then there's no need for my presence there. We'll meet up once we finish our respective tasks. I'll admit, I'm also interested in seeing this so-called temporal device."

"Sounds like a plan." Ruby shook her head, "Come on, let's go."

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Ruby looked down at the ashen-grey body lying on the hospital bed. She'd seen a lot of horrible stuff the past couple of years, dead bodies being just one of them. She wasn't naive. She knew Huntsmen had to kill, and while she didn't go out of her way to do it, it was something she'd been trained to do both in Signal and by her family; especially Uncle Qrow.

Then there was the Fall. So many dead...so many that couldn't have proper burials. Many of them were so mangled that they couldn't even be buried. While it was Pyrrha's death that really drove her to her tipping point and awakened her Silver Eyes, she didn't forget the countless innocent people who died because of Cinder and her pack of monsters. She didn't have any illusions. She was going to kill Cinder. Her, Jaune, or anyone else on her team. It didn't matter who. As long as she was dead.

But even with all that, she found the body in front of her haunting in a way she couldn't explain. It - he - was still alive. Barely. His chest rose and fell, and his body squirmed occasionally, but he still looked like a dead man walking. Tubes and wires were shoved all over his body. His arms, his chest, his mouth...Ruby forced her eyes away from the clear tube prying his lips open and looked at his eyes. One was covered entirely in pale white scar-tissue that left no trace of the face underneath. The other?

A glassy silver eye that stared up at the ceiling, dead to the world.

"So you're saying this man...came from inside the Grimm?" General Ironwood asked. He'd gone to meet them as soon as he had confirmation that the Leviathan was taken care of. Weiss' sister was still on the ground keeping an eye on things, though.

They weren't in a hospital room, not really. It felt like a...vault of some kind. The guy on the bed wasn't a patient, not really. He was something to be kept under lock and key.

"Sort of." Yin rubbed the back of her head. The expression on her face was pinched, "He was inside the Grimm, yeah, but that's not the whole story."

"Enlighten us then."

"Alright, but we're not really experts ourselves." She looked to Rose for a moment. For some reason, her counterpart looked away, "These Grimm are...they were - or I guess, are - made by that monster Salem from...from people with Silver Eyes."

The silence that settled over the room was deafening. Ruby's eyes widened by just the smallest bit and she looked down blankly at the wheezing half-corpse. The glassy silver eye stared up at the ceiling, completely unaware of the world around it. Ruby reached a tentative hand out and slowly closed it...only for the eyelid to shoot back open again. She closed it again. It opened again. Close, open, close, open, close-

"Ruby, stop." Yang grabbed her hand and squeezed. Ruby turned to look at her, her expression blank. Yang was trying to keep calm, but she could tell she was barely keeping it together, "He's...I don't think that's gonna work."

"I know."

"So why are you..."

"I don't know." Ruby's voice was soft. Calm. Yang looked at her like she was expecting her to scream and break down any second now, but Ruby just felt...she didn't know how to describe it. Numb? Tired? Cause why wouldn't Salem, that witch, use people with Silver Eyes in her fucked-up experiments and turn them into monsters like her? That was probably why that Tyrian guy (that Belle turned into a crispy corpse) wanted to kidnap her.

"I see." General Ironwood paced for only a couple of seconds before looking back to Yin and Rose, "What are its capabilities?" Huh, back to normal. She wasn't surrpised. She told him about Salem's immortality not too long ago and he just left afterwards, telling her that he 'had to re-asses'.

"It's not as big or tough as a Leviathan, but they definitely still pack a punch." Yin crossed her arms, "Besides that they're...smart. Scary smart.."

Rose spoke up next, "Ancient Grimm can be patient, but they're still animals in the end. Even Grimm like the Nuckalavee go back to animal instincts in a fight. These Grimm - Hounds, we call them - are Salem's personal attack dogs. They can't blend in like her other agents, but they know how to adapt in a fight. It'll set ambushes, retreat, and even use innocent people as bait or distractions. If you fight them like you do any other Grimm, you're already making a mistake?"

"Do you have any idea how many there are?" Weiss asked.

"We don't know." Rose shook her head, "We fought half a dozen back home, but that could be different here. Different dimensions and all that."

"Honestly, I was kinda hoping that it wouldn't show up here." Yin rubbed her arms together.

"What about him? Is he...?" Ruby gestured to the stubbornly 'awake' former 'Hound'. He was a Faunus, now that she looked closer, "Can he...survive?"

"Yeah." Rose finally smiled, even if it was small, "It's...It's not gonna be easy, and he'll need a lot of help getting there, but the ones we saved back home are living their lives. They just need help. Their minds are still their own."

"This is troubling news." General Ironwood sighed, "With Ms. Rose's...recent revelation about Salem's immortality, the last thing we needed is further complications." General Ironwood hadn't looked at her. She wasn't surprised. She did tell him that they were lying to his face for months less than a week ago. He definitely didn't trust her, "We've already discussed any intel you three - now four - had against Salem, but we should double-check. We don't need any more surprises."

"Right, we probably shoulda told you about the Hounds sooner." Yin sighed.

"What's going to happen to this man?" Weiss asked, looking down at the guy with a pitying look.

"He'll be kept here under observation while he recovers. While he's undoubtedly a victim, we can't discount the possibility that there are lingering traces of Grimm corruption or other such side-effects. We're flying blind here, and the best thing we can do is be cautious."

"By the way, Weiss - our Weiss - showed up. I thought the dimension thing was broken?" Rose asked.

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask Mr. Polendina about the details on that. This machine, such as it is, is confusing to me as well. Up until recently, it seemed more a nuisance until one of Ms. Belladonna's counterparts tried assassinating a major figure in Atlas. Not that any tears would be shed if she'd succeeded..." The General muttered the last part, but Ruby heard it clear as day. She still remembered Blake grousing that she couldn't believe she helped save Jacques Schnee.

They separated after that. Yang tried to stick around, but Ruby waved her off. She needed to be alone. Ruby wandered around the terraces of Atlas Academy, breathing in the cold air. She let her Aura down just a bit to let the full chill hit her skin. The biting frost was a distraction from all the thoughts swirling in her head. Not too long ago, she thought getting alternate dimension versions of themselves would be the worst things they had to deal with. Sure, Salem was still looming over them, but she felt almost...distant. Like a monster from a fairy tale.

Now she felt less like a hero and more just a kid trying to keep her head above water. Yeah, maybe it was big-headed of her to think that, but she really did think - hope - that they would be the heroes. That they could stop Salem, save Remnant, and...and make things right. Make up for how they failed back at Beacon.

She didn't know how long she stood there just wallowing in her thoughts before she felt a clap on her shoulder. She jumped up slightly and turned to see her reflection. Rose, "Heya! You alright? You're spacing out..."

"Just thinking. Not every day you find out someone wants to turn you to a monster 'cause of your eyes." The words came out way too calmly. Rose blinked, "But...tell me something." Ruby turned away to look at the distant tundra, keeping her face hidden from her other self, "You said that these people came from those with Silver Eyes, so...is mom one of them?"

"Well...that's-"

"Nevermind. You just told me." She hesitated, that was confirmation enough. If it wasn't true, she would've just said no. Ruby gripped the railings so tightly that her palms hurt. She didn't know how to feel. Grief? Anger? Some twisted sense of hope? Her mom was alive. Alive and suffering as some kind of monster because of Salem. She remembered Rose's words on how the people inside those monsters could recover. Was that what she was hoping for? To pull her mom out of that twisted monstrosity so she could slowly and painfully limp her way back to some semblance of a normal life?

"...Maybe she's not like that here? We're in a different dimension. Not everything's going to be the same," Rose murmured, standing next to her.

"So she's just dead?"

"...Would that be better?"

"You're asking me? You're the one who has everything figured out."

"I don't." Rose gave her a half-glare, "I already told you before, I just got lucky."

"Well, it seems like everyone's getting lucky!" Ruby turned to face her Maiden counterpart, "Every single person that showed up here? They all stopped the Fall or...or it just didn't happen! They stopped Cinder or-or they did something else. And nobody died!" She hated how she sounded. Petty and resentful, like she wanted those dimensions to fail just so she'd feel better about herself. It was pathetic.

Neither of them said a word after that. Really, what could Ruby say? An apology? It wouldn't change anything now. Soon enough, Rose would go back to her perfect world while Ruby and the rest of them would still be here, still dealing with Salem and whatever fucked up thing she throws at them. She wasn't going to give up, she'd come too far for that, but it was hard not to feel like the universe - multiverse - was laughing at her.

"I don't know what to do."

"I don't think there's anything you can do." Ruby shook her head, "Sorry if I'm being annoying. I don't hate you for having a good life, it's just...hard, having to deal with all this stuff and knowing that other versions of you out there did better than you."

"Is it really 'better' if it's just cause we got these powers from luck?"

"Luck? So you beat Salem out of luck too?" Rose pursed her lips at the question, "Look...I know you're trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate it, but it's not really happening. I'll get better, I always do, but I need time. I mean, I just found out about Silver Eyed monsters and mom..."

"You can save her."

"If there's anything left of her." Whatever Rose was about to say to that was cut off when Ruby's scroll suddenly rang. It was Blake, "Blake? What's going on?"

"Uh...you might want to go to the General's office?"

"Why? Is something wrong? An attack?"

"No. We went to Professor Polendina's lab. He tried to give us the runaround, but Belle and Schwartz convinced him to tell us the truth. He's been deliberately keeping the machine off to keep our alternates trapped here. We should probably make sure she doesn't, you know, blow up Atlas Academy."

...

Ruby cut the call and sighed. Looks like she wasn't the only one keeping secrets here.

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James was not a man who was used to being intimidated. One didn't reach the position of General of the Atlesian military by kowtowing to others. He'd attained his rank through hard work and perseverance, not bribes and backroom dealings. He'd looked politicians, movers of industry, and Jacques Schnee himself in the eyes and told them that he would not be their lapdog no matter what they tried to offer or threaten him with.

Which was why he found himself completely calm and level as four Maidens stared him down with literal fire in their eyes.

"You have some explaining to do." Ms. Belladonna's counterpart - Ms. Belle, if he remembered correctly - growled.

"I assume Pietro told you the truth." James pressed his hands together. There was no sense in panicking or denials. His eyes flickered to team RWBY. Their presence here could be either a stabilizing or agitating factor.

"He wasn't forthcoming at first, but I have experience in telling liars. Professor Polendina is too kindhearted to keep up a mask." Ms. Schwartz said, arms crossed and lips curled up in a thin smile, "He said he'll turn on the machine but pleaded with Blake and I to talk to you first. He assured us that you had a very good reason."

"I do." He kept his expression neutral as he considered his next words, "I won't mince words. Your capabilities were too useful to turn away. Even one fully-trained Maiden would be a boon, but three was unprecedented. Four now, I suppose." He looked at Ms. Schnee's counterpart. Her eyes were calculating and markedly less emotional than those of her team, "And you presence was a boon. Fighting the Leviathan would've led to more casualties if you four weren't present."

"You coulda just asked! We would've helped you!" Ms. Yin threw her hands up.

"For how long?" James raised a brow. Two days? Three? If I asked you to put your life on hold for the sake of strangers, would you have done it?"

"Yes! That's what being a Huntress is all about!" Ms. Rose stamped her foot, "We helped you before you lied to us!"

"And what if you'd said no?" James asked, utterly nonplussed, "You aided us, yes, but I had no guarantee that you would continue to do so for days on end. If you refused because you wished to return home, then things would've been more difficult. In the days you arrived, you've aided in the construction of Amity, taken down one of Salem's agents, and helped safeguard Atlas. I apologize for the deception, but I won't apologize for results."

"You're just like Ironwood back home." Ms. Belle sneered.

"Indeed. Though, at least he was upfront about seeing us as weapons." Ms. Schwartz scoffed, "Let me make this very clear, General. We sympathize with this world and the burden you're all living with, but we will not be held hostage. We've dealt with people seeing us as nothing more than living artillery back home and we don't have any desire to repeat the experience here. You will order Professor Polendina to return us to our homes at the deadline he gave us for when this device is still stable. Until then, we are willing to help, but if you attempt to lie to us one more time, there will be consequences. Do we understand each other?"

The right side of his mouth twitched silently. He was never fond of being issued ultimatums, but he also knew when to cut his losses. Logically, he knew that he couldn't force any other outcome. Trying to make them stay longer would result in non-cooperation at best. At worst, it would antagonize four Maidens who had no reason to care about a world they would never see again.

"I understand."

"Good. Professor Polendina said that we have four more days' worth of time here before we run into problems. We won't risk going even a minute above that time limit." Ms. Schwartz's eyes softened just a bit, "We truly do sympathize with your situation - we remember well Salem's machinations - but we have our own lives. You can't ask us to risk being trapped here any more than we would ask you to do the same were we in your place."

"Hm." James nodded. This wasn't optimal, but he knew it was the best he could hope for, "Team RWBY, could you stay behind?"

"You talking to us?" Ms. Xiao Long raised a brow.

"Naturally."

"We'll see you guys later." Ms. Yin shook her head and walked out followed by the rest of the Maidens.

James waited till they left the room before he stood, grabbing the datapad from the table. Ms. Schnee had been giving reports on the swaps to Winter for the sake of posterity. He'd ignored them beforehand - he had more important things to focus on that team RWBY and JNR being rendered ineligible for combat operations - but after Ms. Belladonna's previous counterpart nearly assassinated Jacques, he couldn't afford to. Then these alternates became a risk.

...And yet they could also be unexpected boons.

"What do you want, General?" Ms. Schnee asked, her eyes on the datapad.

"Team RWBY, from today onwards you're to be given another task." He tapped the datapad, "Up until now, Pietro had been working on repairing the Temporal Device to ensure that these switches stopped. That stops today."

"Wait, hold up? You want this to keep happening?" Ms. Xiao Long asked.

"He's hoping for more alternates like the Maidens to show up." Ms. Belladonna crossed her arms, "Isn't that a huge risk? My last alternate wasn't exactly 'cooperative'. And what if we run into other versions like that? We got lucky now, but if these four were like Cinder..."

"It's a risk we'll have to take." His eyes landed on Ms. Rose. The girl flinched slightly but didn't look away, "Up until now, I assumed that we could rally Remnant to fight Salem like she's a conventional enemy. She is not. Ms. Rose has told me that." She winced again, as did the rest of the team. While she'd taken the responsibility of telling him, all four of them had lied to him. It was something he hadn't forgotten, "We wasted time in an endeavor due to mistaken assumptions."

"Hey, that's-"

"Ms. Xiao Long, I didn't come here to discuss your lies." She stepped back like she'd been struck, "This is an order. You four, plus Jaune Arc, Lie Ren, and Nora Valkyrie will be participating in the search for allies. The chances of a solution falling on our lap are slim, but this is a chance that we cannot waste." Neo Politan's consent wasn't needed. She was a prisoner partially responsible for the death toll at Beacon, "For now, keep watch over your counterparts."

"General-"

"Dismissed." He turned, cutting off whatever Ms. Rose was about to say. She had lied to him, and while James learned to not take things personally - petty grudges were impractical - her omissions had cost them time; a resource that was in painfully short supply in recent days.

The four of them left without a word after that. James waited for the door to shut again before he opened the bottle of wgiskey on the table. He poured himself a generous helping and downed it all in one gulp. The next few weeks were going to be...difficult.

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All things considered, Weiss really should've considered herself lucky. The alternates that everyone had to deal with were a mixed bag. One Jaune was Neo's unwitting (and later, all too willing) lapdog, Yang had to deal with a simp (was that the right word?) version of herself, Blake's was an unashamed terrorist, and one of Ruby's counterparts, while still a force of good, was uncouth and had no sense of boundaries for who to properly flirt with.

By contrast, her counterparts had all been rather pleasant.

Right now, she and Schwartz were helping to establish defenses across numerous villages in the Tundra. Weiss' Semblance and manipulation of Dust allowed her to create fortifications, but they would be temporary. Schwartz's maiden powers and understanding of structures would allow her to make more permanent changes. If Salem really was sending Grimm to try and weaken them, then they needed more fortifications lest the casualties mount.

Using her Semblance, she assisted her Maiden counterpart in the task. Walls, moats, spikes...anything that would keep the Grimm at bay. They couldn't stop something like Nevermores, but the villagers had their own defenses in place for such a task.

It was noon when they decided to take a break back in Mantle. Weiss did her best to keep a low profile while her mirror walked without shame. The people of Mantle had no fond feelings for her family. To them, Father - and the Schnees as a whole - were responsible for their destitute circumstances. The faces of corporate oppression. The fact that she was a Huntress who'd been disinherited didn't matter (assuming they knew the latter). She was a Schnee, so that was enough.

They ended up at a small restaurant. The Faunus owner regarded them with suspicion, especially since they were near-perfect reflections of one another, but accepted their money all the same, "I hope they don't spit in our food..." Weiss muttered as she and Schwartz sat across one another.

"We still have to repair that gap in the wall later. It'll be quicker if we're here." Schwartz shrugged, "Honestly, why did the General leave that there?"

"He wanted to focus supplies on...well, his personal project." She doubted Amity was truly a secret now, but she wasn't going to risk it.

"It's a hole in the wall that Grimm can slip into," Schwartz said flatly. Weiss shrugged back. She wasn't going to defend it, "If I wasn't so frustrated with the man, I could almost respect his stubbornness." She drummed the fingers of her left hand against the wood. She watched the metal digits without a word. She'd been shocked when she saw Yang with a prosthetic arm back in her bandit egg donor's camp, but she'd been too distracted with everything else to truly take note of it.

This was different. This was...her.

Schwartz said something. Weiss blinked, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that?"

"I said take a picture. It'll last longer." Scwartz's wry smile made Weiss blush, "You want to ask, don't you?"

"Well..."

"It's fine." Schwartz let out a soft breath, "It's the price of a costly mistake. There was a time when I - all of us, really - thought ourselves untouchable because of our powers. Why wouldn't we? We retook Mt. Glenn and saved Vale from that rampaging wyvern. Remnant was singing our praises. It's hard to not let it go to your head. A wretched man played into our ego and used it to manipulate us. He fed into our perceived superiority. This is the result."

"Who was it?"

"Leonardo Lionheart." Weiss pursed her lips at the name. She agreed with Yang that leaving him with his reputation intact post-mortem was better than he deserved, despite Ozpin's claims, "He played all of us. Me, Ruby, Yang, Weiss, Jaune...for a coward, he knew how to tug at our strings. If it weren't for Mercury, I'm sure he would've succeeded."

"I still find it odd that Mercury Black, of all people, is one of your allies. He helped destroy Vale here."

"Yes, I heard it from Blake. I suppose it makes sense that it's not just the four of us that are different." She drank the house water, tracing the mechanical fingers against the rim of the glass, "That's why I personally believe there are risks to relying on our knowledge. If we're wrong, then the results could be...severe."

"Running with flawed knowledge is better than running blind, as Winter always said."

"Hm. Never heard mine say that. Another difference, I suppose." She smirked slightly, "I hope our Jaune is handling your Nora well."

"What's team JNPR like in your world?"

"JNPR?"

"Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren?"

"They're not a team in our world. Jaune's the fifth official member of team RWBY-J." Weiss blinked. She knew from context clues that Jaune was close to their entire team, but that was a surprise, "Team PRMN is friendly to us, but they have their own lives."

"...For what it's worth, we are sorry for taking you from your home for so long." It wasn't her fault that General Ironwood lied to them, but she felt a sense of responsibility all the same.

"It's fine. It wasn't your intent, and I suppose I can't completely fault your Ironwood." She sighed, "The only thing I'm annoyed with is that I was supposed to go on a date today. Sun bought tickets to our favorite band. All that lien, down the drain."

"Wait, Sun? As in Sun Wukong? You're dating him?"

"Yes." Schwartz said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, "You aren't?"

"No! I...well, I'm in a sort-of courtship with someone right now, but it's nothing concrete."

"Who is it?"

"...Jaune."

"Jaune?" Her counterpart blinked, "Hm, a somewhat odd choice. I won't deny that he has his appeal, but I've seen him dating Ruby for over a year now. The thought of myself dating him is...odd."

"That's my line! For the longest time, I thought Sun and Blake had something going on. He followed her after Beacon fell, for Brothers' sake." And now she and Yang were dancing around each other. It was somewhat frustrating to watch, "You and Sun? How did that even happen?"

"Well...it technically started when I got him arrested for stowing away on a ship." Weiss blinked. Schwartz coughed awkwardly, "It's...a somewhat long story, but we made amends and I asked him to the dance. We kept going after that."

"Huh...I asked Neptune to the dance."

"I tried the same, but he looked at me rather poorly considering I had his best friend arrested while calling him choice names." Schwartz winced, "We've long since made up, and I'm very happy with my relationship. I'll make sure to make it up to Sun when I get back. Oh, but I do wish you luck with Jaune. My advice? Be aggressive. Jaune is...oblivious, and rather inexperienced when it comes to romance. Poor Ruby had to throw up a neon sign to make him understand."

"...You're joking, right? He flirted with me on the first day! He serenaded me before the dance!"

"Doesn't sound like the Jaune I know. But wait, he did that? And you two are still in a courtship?"

"W-Well, I didn't like him back then! He was..." She bit her tongue. She wasn't going to badmouth the man he was now by comparing him to the boy he was before, "L-Look, the point is we're taking it slow and he's been a gentleman about things. I like it that way."

"If you say so."

Their food - chicken and mashed potatoes - arrived shortly after. Weiss eyed it warily while Schwartz dug in. Politely, of course. Manners were still paramount. She chewed on her chicken leg and swallowed, "So...I've been meaning to ask. I've seen the news. Your version of Father was elected to the council?"

"Hm? Oh, that's old news. He's been arrested." The casual way she said it made Schwartz blink, "He worked with Arthur Watts and compromised Atlas for the sake of his ambition. That's treason, and no amount of money or influence he has will let him weasel his way out."

"So...it's only Whitley and Mother at the manor now?"

"Yes..."

"...What's your relationship with Whitley?" Schwartz asked suddenly.

"Huh?" Weiss' brows furrowed for a moment, "Well...distant, if you want to put it kindly." There were far more unflattering terms she could've used, "He always hated me and Winter. After Beacon...he treated me kindly. Still smarmy and annoying, but it felt like he was making an effort to bridge the gap. Then I found out it was a lie." Her grip on her fork tightened, "He was setting me up to be disinherited by pretending to be family. And when I found out, he told me it was the consequence of not following Father's orders."

Even thinking about it again made her blood boil. It wasn't the ambition that that hurt her. No, she always knew he wanted to become the heir. What truly made it hurt was betraying her trust.

"...Perhaps you should visit him?" Schwartz said.

"Why should I? So he'll blame me for upending his cushy life because I had our worthless Father arrested?" Weiss scoffed.

"I understand that Whitley hurt you, but if your Jacques is anything like ours then...I'm not surprised what he turned into."

"And what? I'm supposed to 'save' him?" Her face twisted into an ugly sneer, "Winter and I grew up under that household too. I was deprived of my childhood and never once did I stab him in the back or...or pretend I cared because I wanted to prop myself up. I could stomach his hatred, but not his betrayal."

"We weren't flawless ourselves. Father twisted us all. Winter ran away to to the military." Schwartz held a hand up, "She did. I don't blame her for it, but she placed the burden of being the heiress on our shoulders. And in turn, we left for Beacon with our pride motivating us."

"So what? Was I supposed to stay there? Put my life on hold for Whitley's while he hated me? He's only a couple of years younger than I am. He can't hide behind his youth like it's a shield. He knew exactly what he was doing."

"What then? Are you prepared to hate him forever?" She almost said 'Yes', but something held her back, "I'm not saying you should pretend he's some innocent lamb. Because you're right, all of you grew up under Jacques Schnee's shadow, but...it might be better to see if you can help him step out of it. If he refuses? Fine, leave him to the hole he's digging himself, but perhaps it's not too late now that he's in prison and can't exert his influence anymore."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience..."

"Whitley and I made our own peace. I suppose it helped that I gave up my position as heiress." She what? Schwartz caught her look of disbelief and laughed under her breath, "Priorities change. My role as a Huntress - as a Maiden - meant I couldn't split my attention. You probably feel the same. You're a Huntress now, all of you. How exhausted do you feel every day? How much time do you spend on missions hunting Grimm? Do you think you could do all that and be CEO?"

"That's...Grandather-"

"Grandfather was a good man, but he wasn't good at business. And he's not with his own skeletons in the closet. Just look at Vacuo." Weiss winced, "...I'm just giving my own perspective, of course. You're free to ignore me. At the end of the day, we're not the same person." She raised her left hand and traced her fingertips across her unscarred left eye.

"...I'll think about it."

That's all I ask.

Days passed and the deadline finally arrived. Weiss could tell that General Ironwood was reluctant to let their counterparts leave. Weiss could understand the sentiment. They were definitely powerful and experienced, but at the end of the day, this wasn't their world, and it would've been unfair to demand any more of them.

They all said their goodbyes and well-wishes. Belle, of course, groused and made a scene about how she had to go back to the cell, but she ultimately complied. The last thing they needed was Neo up and about. She wouldn't have been surprised if that mute psychopath was thinking of using their switches for some sort of escape plan.

The familiar feeling of electricity in the air came soon after. Schwartz held her hand and smiled, "Good luck, Weiss."

A bright green light engulfed the room, and when she looked back, Nora stood in Schwartz's place, her mouth and cheeks stained with pancakes and syrup, "Oh, come on! I was gonna win that contest!"

"It's good to see you too, Nora." She looked past her and smiled at the sight of Ren and Jaune. Another reprieve before they plunged back into the breach.

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Next chapter will be more comedic since we're focusing on a more comedic dimension and how everyone but Ironwood reacts the same way to it.

RWBY Oneshots and Shorts Repository - World Peace Harem Project (Name Pending)

Ruby Rose has a plan for World Peace. How? By giving Jaune a harem. Just roll with it.

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Ruby was convinced she had stumbled upon the greatest idea in the history of Remnant. No, scratch that: the greatest idea in the history of everything. Forget inventing Dust, forget airships, and forget Crescent Rose's folding sniper-scythe functionality (okay, not really, but it was up there!). This was bigger. This was world-altering, kingdom-uniting, Grimm-obliterating brilliance. A plan that would lead to everlasting peace in all of Remnant!

And it all started with one person. Jaune. Ruby twirled around her room at Beacon, flopping backward onto her bed with a dreamy sigh. Jaune. Her boyfriend. Her boyfriend. Every time she thought about it, she giggled uncontrollably. Who would've thought? Sweet, dorky, clumsy Jaune who somehow become the center of herwhole world. They had been dating for three months, and every day felt like flying. It wasn't just the cheesy dates or the way he nervously held her hand like it was something fragile and precious. It wasn't even the time he tried to impress her by juggling apples and accidentally knocked out half the cafeteria lights.

No. Jaune made her happy. Really happy.

And that was when the thought hit her. If she was this happy dating Jaune, why not share that happiness with the rest of the world? Ruby sat upright, eyes wide with revelation. That's it. Her heart pounded in her chest as the pieces fell into place, forming a picture so perfect, so obvious, that she couldn't believe no one had thought of it before. The key to world peace wasn't more huntsmen, bigger weapons, or ancient magic relics.

It was Jaune Arc.

If she was happy dating Jaune, then clearly - clearly - the answer to solving all of Remnant's problems was for every huntress to date Jaune. It was foolproof! Ruby shot to her feet and began pacing the room, waving her hands dramatically like she was giving a world-saving speech to the United Council of Remnant.

"Think about it!" she shouted to the empty room, "If every huntress is dating Jaune, then no one will ever fight! Why would anyone want to start a war when Jaune is too busy making them all cookies or...or knitting them scarves!" She gasped, snapping her fingers, "Exactly! That's so Jaune! He'd overwork himself making gifts for everyone! But he'd do it with a smile because that's just the kind of guy he is." And she'd help, of course. She wouldn't want her boyfriend overworking himself.

Ruby spun toward the window, pointing dramatically at the distant horizon (and a bird that was hanging outside on a branch), "Imagine it - a world where every huntress is too busy going on cute Jaune dates to argue! The Grimm? Gone! Love will conquer them! Kingdom rivalries? Over! Who's going to start a war when they're all busy getting serenaded by Jaune on his guitar? He barely knows how to play, but he'd try, and that's what matters!" She still remembered when he tried to serenade her. He was awful, but Brothers, she loved every second of it.

She threw herself down on the bed again, staring up at the ceiling with stars in her eyes. She was a genius. The logistics didn't matter. The sheer brilliance of the plan transcended logic. Jaune could do it. He was that sweet. Sure, he might need some convincing, but Ruby would handle that part.

"All I need is a little push...and maybe a chart," Ruby mumbled, already visualizing a massive whiteboard labeled "Jaune Arc Relationship Initiative."

This was going to change everything. Once Jaune was dating everyone, there wouldn't be fighting anymore. Just 24/7 lovey-dovey relationships! Jaune would...

Ruby sat up abruptly, tapping her chin as she mulled over the next step in her master plan. Should she tell Jaune? Her initial instinct was, of course, to share this stroke of genius immediately. She could already picture the conversation: she'd find Jaune in the library, casually slide into the seat next to him, and drop the bombshell with the gravitas it deserved.

"Hey, Jaune. I think you're the key to world peace. No big deal."

She snorted aloud, kicking her feet against the edge of the bed in excitement. He'd probably laugh, get all flustered, and rub the back of his neck like he always did when she complimented him. It was adorable. But as soon as the thought solidified, Ruby frowned, flopping back down with a groan. No, that wouldn't work. Not at all.

Jaune was too humble.

The second she brought it up, he'd just laugh it off, mumbling something self-deprecating like, "Oh, Ruby, there's no way dating me could fix world peace! I can't even parallel park."

And that was the problem. Jaune wasn't the type to see how amazing he really was. Sure, he'd grown stronger, more confident over the years, but at the core, he was still Jaune. The guy who came up with dorky team attacks and thought that Pumpkin Pete Hoodie was super cool.

If she told him about the plan, he'd just deny it, "Ugh, you're too nice, Jaune!" Ruby muttered to herself, rolling over and hugging a pillow tightly. No, this was something she'd have to prove to him. She couldn't just explain it; she needed results. Cold, hard evidence that dating Jaune was the first step to global harmony.

Besides, if she casually arranged for a few test runs - maybe encouraging a huntress or two to spend some time with him - what was the worst that could happen? It was for the greater good! Ruby grinned, her eyes practically sparkling with determination. If Jaune wouldn't acknowledge he's the key to world peace, she'd just have to show him.

Her mission was clear. Now she just needed to figure out which huntress to recruit for phase one.

Ruby grabbed a notebook from her desk, flipping it open with the kind of flair that would make even Weiss proud, and scribbled at the top of the first page:

"JAUNE ARC: KEY TO WORLD PEACE MASTER PLAN!"

Underneath, she started jotting down names, mumbling to herself as she worked, "Alright, so we need a few good candidates to kick this off. Someone approachable, someone who'd make a good first step. Hmmm..." She tapped the pen against her lip thoughtfully before writing the first name.

Blake.

"Blake's super chill. She probably wouldn't mind giving this a shot. Plus, she's already used to dealing with awkward situations thanks to Sun. But...wait." Ruby paused, biting her lip, "What if she's too chill? Like, she doesn't get flustered or cute around Jaune. That could ruin the experiment!"

She crossed Blake's name off with a sigh, moving to the next candidate.

Yang.

"Okay, Yang would be...fun? Maybe? But she'd probably just end up teasing Jaune the whole time. And he'd be bright red in two seconds. Ugh, that's no good. He needs to be relaxed, not worrying about what joke she'll crack next." Jaune needed to be more confident first, to see that he really was the key to world peace. Yang would ruin that. No, she'd be part of the harem (it was harem, right?) later when Jaune was much more sure of himself.

Yang's name got a firm scribble, followed by another name.

Nora

Ruby crossed out the name as soon as she wrote it down. No chance she'd ever ditch Ren. Besides, Jaune said he saw her like a sister (from another mister).

Pyrrha.

Ruby's pen hovered over the paper for a moment, "Pyrrha would totally work. She's already close to Jaune, and she's super sweet. But...that feels like cheating. She'd probably say yes just because she's nice, not because the plan is working or she likes Jaune." Pyrrha's name got a soft, regretful strike-through. She frowned at the page, tapping her chin again, "Okay, come on, Ruby. Think. Who's perfect for this? Someone who-"

She froze, the pen slipping from her fingers as the obvious answer hit her like a freight train.

Weiss.

Her eyes lit up, and a grin spread across her face. Weiss. Of course! Weiss was perfect! "Let's see," Ruby said , sitting up straighter, "She's my partner, so she's around all the time. She's super elegant, which is great for the plan. And- oh! Jaune had that huge crush on her for forever!" She practically squealed, bouncing slightly in her chair, "This is it! Weiss is the perfect first step!"

Weiss had everything Ruby needed: proximity, familiarity, and the potential to make Jaune extra flustered in that cute, endearing way of his. And if Weiss could see Jaune the way Ruby saw him, that'd be proof enough for anyone that the plan was working! The Ice Queen who had her heart melted, it was classic fairytale! Besides, she and Jaune were getting along great now and Neptune ended up being a wash, so she was perfect for the rebound!

Ruby scribbled Weiss's name in bold letters, circling it with dramatic flair, "Okay, first step: convince Weiss. She's gonna love this. Totally." Ruby didn't even stop to consider that Weiss , heiress to the Schnee Dust Company and certified master of icy glares, might not exactly love being roped into her insane matchmaking scheme. No, Ruby thought confidently. Weiss would see the brilliance of the plan.

After all, who wouldn't want to help create world peace?

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The next day, Weiss found herself being physically dragged down the hall by Ruby, who hadn't stopped talking since breakfast, "Ruby, I swear- " Weiss huffed, tugging at her arm in protest, "Where are you taking me? I have things to do!"

"Oh, don't worry, this is way more important!" Ruby chirped, practically skipping as she led Weiss toward their dorm room. She could pull her arm back, but a sense of morbid curiosity kept Weiss following along anyway.

Weiss shot her a skeptical glare, "Is this about that ridiculous prank Yang tried to pull last week? If so, I'm not interested."

"Nope! Bigger than pranks! Bigger than life!" Ruby said dramatically, throwing open the dorm room door and ushering Weiss inside. The moment Weiss stepped in, she froze. The room had been transformed. A white bedsheet had been stretched across one corner, pinned in place like a makeshift projector screen. On it were crude drawings of stick figures - one with messy blonde hair and a sword (clearly Jaune) surrounded by little red hearts. There were also more stick figures of Weiss, herself, standing on a podium that Ruby had apparently labeled "Goddess of World Peace." Next to it, a small, rickety table was piled with charts, diagrams, and what appeared to be a poorly constructed model of Beacon made from leftover pudding cups and pencils.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, "Ruby. What is this?"

Ruby grinned like a child unveiling their first science fair project, "Weiss, you're about to witness the greatest idea in history."

Weiss glanced warily around the room, "I highly doubt that."

"Sit, sit!" Ruby pushed Weiss onto a chair she had conveniently placed in the center of the room, "Okay, presentation time!"

Ruby sprinted to the front of the room, holding up a homemade pointer stick. She flicked off the lights (plunging the room into semi-darkness) and turned on a small, wobbly projector she'd borrowed from the library. The screen flickered to life, displaying the first slide of Ruby's presentation.

The title read: "JAUNE ARC: KEY TO WORLD PEACE (AND YOUR HAPPINESS)"

Weiss stared at it, expression blank, "Ruby, what am I looking at?"

Ruby grinned, silver eyes shining "Let me explain!" She clicked to the next slide, which showed a crudely drawn Jaune, smiling with two thumbs up, "We can all agree Jaune is the nicest guy ever. I mean, look at him. He's sweet, loyal, and pretty good with a sword now! And, most importantly - he makes me so happy!"

Weiss raised an eyebrow, "Yes...I'm aware of your relationship." Mostly because she wouldn't shut up about it. She'd text Jaune long into the night, giggling like a lovestruck schoolgirl regardless of how many times she told her to just go to sleep already,

Ruby continued, undeterred, "Now, here's where the genius part comes in." She clicked to the next slide, which now showed Jaune surrounded by about twenty more stick figure huntresses, all grinning, "If Jaune makes me happy, then obviously, the best way to bring world peace is to make sure every huntress dates Jaune." She paused, "Some exceptions, of course. Nora's out."

Weiss blinked, "...What?"

Ruby nodded eagerly, pointing at the screen like she had just discovered the solution for Grimm, "Think about it! Happy huntresses mean less stress. Less stress means fewer fights. And fewer fights mean no more drama between kingdoms! The world will be too busy enjoying Jaune's cooking and dorky jokes to argue! It's foolproof." Weiss's mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. For a moment, she simply stared at Ruby as if trying to gauge if this was a joke. When Ruby's wide grin didn't falter and she continued to stand there, hands on her hips like she'd just revolutionized Dust mining, Weiss sighed heavily.

"Ruby...you cannot possibly believe this is a viable solution to global conflict."

Ruby clicked again, flashing a new slide that showed Weiss - specifically Weiss's stick figure - being lifted by a smiling Jaune while hearts floated around them, "That's where you come in! You're the perfect candidate to kick this off. Think about it, Jaune used to have a crush on you! You're practically his dream girl!"

Weiss crossed her arms, "Ruby. I refuse to participate in whatever this is."

Ruby wasn't listening, of course. She was on a roll, now gesturing wildly as she spoke, "You and Jaune would be perfect. I mean, you're both responsible, he's improved a lot, and you love complaining about things, which gives you tons to bond over! And imagine how cute your kids would be - little Weiss-Arcs running around, bossing everyone else like tiny diplomats!"

Weiss's cheeks reddened, "Excuse me?!"

"I know, right? Adorable!" Ruby grinned, clicking again. The next slide just said "PROS OF WEISS DATING JAUNE" in giant, bold letters, followed by bullet points like: "He's tall," "He bakes sometimes," and "Will probably write you a poem if you ask."

Weiss massaged her temple, "Ruby, I...I don't even know where to begin."

"Start with how genius this is," Ruby said 'helpfully'.

"That is not the word I was going to use." Weiss crossed her legs, her icy glare locking onto Ruby, "I understand that Jaune makes you happy, but that doesn't mean you can pawn him off to the rest of us like he's some kind of emotional support animal."

Ruby pouted, "It's not pawning him off! It's sharing. Sharing is caring!" Weiss stared, unimpressed. Her partner (and even thinking that word now made her frownd) shifted tactics, "Okay, what if we just do, like, a trial run? One date. Just a casual thing. We'll even call it research."

"No."

"I'll pay for it?"

"No."

"You'll get free dessert."

"...I can buy my own dessert."

Ruby groaned, dramatically draping herself over the desk, "Weiss, you're being difficult."

Weiss folded her arms, "No, I'm being reasonable. This is absurd, even by your standards. And need I remind you that Jaune currently has a girlfriend? Which is you!"

Ruby popped up instantly, "It's not cheating if it's for world peace!" Weiss's glare intensified, "...Fine," Ruby muttered. For a second, Weiss thought she'd finally gotten it through her partner's thick skull that this was futile before her mouth curled up, "I didn't wanna do this, but you're making me bring out the Big Guns."

Weiss raised a brow at her partner's smug, confident grin. She'd faced countless challenges in her life. Grueling combat exams, relentless family expectations, and enough awkward social interactions with Team RWBY to write a memoir. But none of that compared to the sheer lunacy that was Ruby's latest scheme.

Ruby was bouncing on the balls of her feet, her silver eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as she prepared to launch what she clearly believed was her ultimate weapon in this absurd crusade. Weiss sat stiffly in her chair, her arms crossed and her expression as neutral as she could muster. She sat stiffly in her chair, legs crossed and arms folded, as Ruby clicked through the last of her ridiculous presentation, "And finally!" Ruby spun around, eyes practically glowing with excitement, "There's the most important reason of all."

Weiss narrowed her eyes, "Ruby, if you say world peace again, I'm leaving."

"Nope!" Ruby said far too cheerfully. She leaned forward and whispered her next words like it was a dirty little secret, "Jaune gives headpats."

The room went dead silent. Weiss's fingers tightened slightly over her arm, but she didn't move, didn't react. For all the world could see, she considered Ruby's 'Big Gun' to be utterly rdiciculous and nonsenstical. Her expression remained perfectly neutral.

...At least on the outside. Inside, Weiss felt something deeply troubling.

Headpats.

A tiny traitorous part of her - the part she kept locked away alongside her weakness for rare Dust crystals, imported chocolates, and chicken wings - screamed in curiosity. Weiss prided herself on discipline and composure, but the mental image crept in against her will. Jaune Arc, awkward but genuine, ruffling her hair in that clumsy, affectionate way of his. Headpats had been denied to her ever since she was a young girl. Mother was too much of a drunk, Father was a cold-hearted sociopath, and Winter didn't believe in such open displays of affection.

Weiss grit her teeth. Absolutely not, "Ruby," she began, voice strained with barely concealed irritation, "I refuse to entertain the idea of dating Jaune simply because he...pats heads."

Ruby crossed her arms and smirked knowingly, "Ohhh? So you're considering it?"

Weiss's eye twitched, "That's not what I said."

"I think it is, Weiss." Ruby leaned forward, practically glowing with smug assurance, "Don't try to deny it. I saw that flicker in your eyes. You thought about it."

"I did not."

"You did."

Weiss exhaled slowly through her nose, fighting the urge to launch Ruby and her absurd charts out the window, "Ruby, this conversation is absurd."

Ruby shrugged, but her grin didn't fade, "Look, I'm just saying...Jaune's headpats are like legendary. It's scientifically proven to lower stress. Yang's had one before. Blake, too. They said it was life-changing."

Weiss raised a skeptical brow, "Blake said that?"

"Well," Ruby hesitated for just half a second, "She purred, which I think is close enough."

Weiss's grip on her arm tightened further. Traitorous thoughts kept invading. Sure, Jaune wasn't the most graceful or skilled person she knew, but there was...something about his kindness. How he always managed to lift people's spirits, even without meaning to. The idea of him casually patting her head with that bright, goofy smile was so stupid, so completely and utterly foolish. And yet, her stomach twisted in a way that made her profoundly uncomfortable.

Finally, Weiss sighed and straightened her posture, casting Ruby a long, cold look, "I might - and I emphasize might - be willing to hear more. Hypothetically."

Ruby's entire face lit up like a kid on their birthday, "Yes! I knew it!"

"But," Weiss added sharply, lifting a finger to silence Ruby's inevitable victory dance, "I'm not agreeing to anything yet. And if Jaune ever hears about this conversation, I will deny it to my grave."

Ruby mimed zipping her lips, but the smug grin stretching across her face made Weiss instantly regret giving even the slightest ground.

"Don't look so pleased with yourself," Weiss muttered, brushing imaginary dust off her sleeve.

"Oh, Weiss." Ruby's eyes twinkled with uncontainable mischief, "You've just taken the first step toward happiness. I'm so proud of you." Weiss rolled her eyes, but somewhere deep down - very deep down - she felt the tiniest flicker of curiosity she couldn't quite snuff out.

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Jaune considered himself a pretty simple guy. He didn't need much to be happy: a good meal, some quality time with his friends, and Ruby holding his hand as they strolled through Vale's streets. So when he knocked on the door of Team RWBY's dorm to pick Ruby up for their date, he wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. Maybe Ruby would launch into one of her cute, rambling tangents and gush about her new upgrades for Crescent Rose. Standard Ruby stuff.

What he wasn't expecting was for Weiss Schnee to throw open the door instead, stepping into the hallway with the calm authority of someone about to finalize a business merger, "Jaune," Weiss greeted coolly, nodding as if acknowledging the presence of a butler.

"Uh...hey, Weiss. Is Ruby ready?" Jaune asked, peering over her shoulder. Things had gotten between between them ever since he learned to take No for an answer, but they didn't exactly go out of their way to spend time with one another. They were more than acquaintances but less than friends.

Ruby popped up from behind Weiss, waving enthusiastically, "Hey, Jaune!"

"Oh good, you're both here," Weiss interrupted, cutting Ruby off with a graceful flick of her hair, "Perfect timing. Shall we?"

Jaune blinked, "Shall we...what?"

"Go," Weiss said, as if the answer were obvious. She stepped beside him, looping her arm through his in one smooth motion. He nearly jumped in surprise at the sudden gesture, "I assume you have a reservation somewhere nice. Let's not keep them waiting." Jaune froze, his mind going completely blank as he stared down at the pristine white sleeve now hooked around his elbow. Weiss was holding his arm. Behind them both, Ruby gave him a huge grin and two thumbs up.

"What is happening right now?" Jaune whispered, glancing between the two girls in panic.

Ruby leaned in, cupping a hand around her mouth like she was about to share state secrets, "Just go with it. It's for world peace."

'World peace?' Jaune thought

Weiss tugged him forward before he could press for answers, "Come on, Jaune. We don't have all day." His legs moved on autopilot, stumbling slightly as Weiss led him down the hall like they'd been dating for years, like this was all normal. Jaune shot Ruby one last, desperate look over his shoulder, but all she did was giggle and wave.

What was happening?!

Ten minutes later, Jaune sat stiffly at the cafe they'd planned to visit. Except instead of a cozy two-person date with him and Ruby talking about the latest Crimson Huntress comic, Weiss was seated directly across from him, elegantly sipping a cup of tea as if this was a diplomatic meeting. Ruby sat beside her, practically vibrating with excitement as she shoveled cake into her mouth. Neither of them acted like this was weird.

Jaune stared at the two, waiting for someone to explain. When neither did, he coughed to get their attention, "So...Weiss," he said awkwardly, fidgeting with his spoon, "You're joining us today?"

Weiss set her teacup down with a soft clink, "Yes. Is that a problem?"

"No! I mean- uh, no, not at all. It's just..." He glanced at Ruby for help. She stuffed more cake into her mouth and shrugged innocently. No help there. Jaune scratched the back of his neck, feeling the nervous sweat start to build, "I just thought...you know, Ruby and I were gonna- "

Ruby leaned over suddenly, whispering in his ear like she was spilling state secrets, "Pat her head."

Jaune blinked, "What?"

Ruby nudged him, "Pat her head, Jaune. Trust me."

Jaune's hand hovered awkwardly over the table as he tried to process that sentence. This felt...strange, even by Team RWBY's standards. But Ruby was his girlfriend, and she'd never led him astray before, "Uh...Weiss?" Jaune asked hesitantly.

Weiss arched a perfectly manicured brow, "Yes?"

Jaune swallowed, "Can I...pat your head?" The moment the words left his mouth, Weiss's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, her icy glare burning into him like a laser. For a second, Jaune was sure this was how he died. But then, as if reluctantly yielding, Weiss tilted her head ever so slightly forward.

"...I suppose," she mumbled, though her expression suggested this was the single greatest concession of her life.

Jaune hesitated for a moment longer, but Ruby gave him another frantic thumbs-up from across the table.

So, with all the grace of someone disarming a bomb, Jaune gently lowered his hand and gave Weiss a soft, careful headpat.

The moment his hand touched her hair, Weiss froze. Her posture went rigid, her shoulders squared, and her expression shifted into something Jaune could only describe as stunned disbelief. Her pale cheeks flushed a faint pink, and her eyes widened slightly, as if she were undergoing some sort of divine revelation. Trying to ignore how weird this all felt, he rubbed the top of her head gently, careful to make sure he didn't mess up her meticulously styled hair.

Jaune blinked, "Uh...Weiss? You okay?"

Weiss didn't respond immediately. For a moment, it looked like she was trying to say something, but no words came out. Instead, she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and whispered, "More."

"...More?" Jaune asked

Weiss's eyes snapped open, her tone suddenly sharp and commanding despite the words that came out of her mouth, "More. Headpats." Jaune looked at Ruby for help, but she just gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed, 'You're doing great!' and 'This is for World Peace!'

"Okay," he said hesitantly, raising his hand again. He resumed patting Weiss's head, this time with a little more confidence. Weiss's reaction was almost immediate. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and a soft, nearly inaudible sound escaped her lips - a sound Jaune could only describe as a cross between a sigh, a purr, and a...moan.

"This...This is acceptable," Weiss murmured, her voice unusually soft, "Continue."

Jaune's hand froze mid-pat, "Weiss, are you - "

"I said continue!" Weiss snapped, her cheeks flushing deeper. Jaune complied, patting her head again, utterly mystified by what was happening. Ruby, meanwhile, was doing a poor job of stifling her laughter, clutching her stomach as she tried to contain herself.

"Weiss, are you sure you're okay?" Jaune asked, still patting. He was scared she'd literally bite his hand off if he stopped.

Weiss opened one eye to glare at him, "Jaune Arc, I have never been more 'okay' in my life. Do. Not. Stop." He looked at Ruby again, hoping for some kind of explanation, but all he got was her grinning like she'd just orchestrated the greatest prank in history.

Jaune sighed, "This is going to be a weird day, isn't it?"

Ruby's laughter echoed through the room as Weiss leaned ever so slightly into his hand, her dignified exterior cracking just enough to make Jaune wonder if this was really happening. Maybe this was all a weird hallucination. He definitely shouldn't have drank Ren's 'health' drink yesterday...

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Ruby strolled down the dorm halls practically glowing with smug satisfaction. Today was a victory for peace, love, and headpats. After their date at the cafe, they went back to their room for more private headpatting. Jaune left Team RWBY's dorm red-faced and confused, while Weiss...well, Weiss was weirdly quiet. Which, for Weiss, was as good as an admission that Ruby's plan was already working. She'd fallen hook, line and sink.

Weiss Schnee - Miss "I'm too snobby for this nonsense" - folded like a deck of cards after a single headpat. It was perfect. But, Ruby wasn't gonna rest on her laurels. No, she needed to keep the momentum going. She flipped open her notebook, which she now titled the 'World Peace Harem Project (Name Pending)', and clicked her pen.

Weiss Schnee – Status: Cracked. One or two more headpats should seal the deal.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, "Alright, next up..." Her eyes scanned the list of names, flicking through potential candidates.

Blake? Maybe, but she'd need a softer approach. Blake was like a stray cat. Too much attention and she'd vanish under a bookshelf somewhere.
Yang? A wildcard, but Jaune would probably survive one date. Maybe. Save for later when he's more confident.
Pyrrha? Too easy. That felt like cheating. Besides, she still wasn't sure if Pyrrha liked him like that.
Velvet? A possibility. She seemed like the kind of girl who appreciated nice guys.
Winter? Maybe. Now that Weiss was in, convincing her big sis would be way easier. She looked like she needed someone to be open with. Let her hair down.

Ruby nodded to herself, checking off mental boxes. 'This is working faster than I thought. The world is practically glowing with harmony already.' As she rounded the corner, flipping to a new page labeled "Additional Candidates," someone stepped in front of her.

Ruby halted mid-step, glancing up to see Cinder Fall, the mysterious transfer student who somehow made even standing still seem ominous. Cinder leaned casually against the wall, amber eyes glinting in the soft light. Her smile was polite but sharp, like a knife hidden behind silk. Ruby never really talked to her before, but there was always something about Cinder that screamed 'secretly up to something nefarious'.

"Ruby Rose," Cinder said smoothly, "A word?"

Ruby blinked, "Uh, sure? What's up?" She subtly put her notebook away.

Cinder's smile widened, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, "I hear you've been...coordinating something involving Jaune Arc."

Ruby stiffened, clutching her notebook protectively, "Who told you that?"

"I have my ways," Cinder said, waving a hand dismissively, "Rumors, whispers. You'd be surprised how quickly these things spread."

Ruby narrowed her eyes slightly, "Look, if Weiss sent you to stop me, you can tell her it's too late. She already got the headpat treatment, and she liked it." She couldn't stop herself from grinning. Weiss was already addicted, she could tell. And when the rest of the future harem saw just how far Weiss fell, they'd see how amazing joining would be.

Cinder tilted her head, looking vaguely amused, "Oh, I'm not here to stop you."

Ruby paused, "...You're not?"

"No," Cinder purred, stepping closer with unsettling ease. She stopped just short of Ruby, looming ever so slightly, as if trying to establish some kind of dominance Ruby didn't particularly care about, "I'm here because I want in."

Ruby's brain screeched to a halt, "...What?"

Cinder's eyes gleamed, "I'm interested in Arc." Ruby's mouth fell open. She stared at Cinder, expecting to see a hint of sarcasm, maybe even some elaborate prank ready to unfold. But there was nothing. Cinder looked completely serious. Still, Ruby had her doubts. She still had that 'I'm secretly planning something evil' (metaphorical) aura about her. But still, her plan did involve eventually having every single Huntress dating Jaune, so...

"You..." Ruby pointed at her notebook, struggling to process the words, "You want to date Jaune?"

Cinder chuckled softly, "Let's call it...testing the waters. Your plan intriguqes me. "

Ruby slowly narrowed her eyes, "...You're not planning to kidnap him or use him as part of some evil scheme, are you?"

Cinder put a hand to her chest, trying and failing to look innocent, "Why, Ruby, I'm offended. Can't a girl express interest without being accused of grand plots?"

"Nope," Ruby said bluntly, "Not with your vibe."

Cinder laughed again, and to Ruby's surprise, it sounded almost genuine, "I assure you, my intentions are perfectly harmless." Cinder crossed her arms, tilting her head thoughtfully, "He is interesting, isn't he? There's something...grounding about him. It's rare to find someone so genuine these days."

Ruby stared at her, "...Okay, now I feel like you might actually like him."

Cinder smirked, "Maybe I do."

Ruby squinted, "I don't know...you seem like the type who would hold him hostage, dangle him over a lava pit, and call it flirting."

Cinder's eyes sparkled, "No lava pits." And then, she said under her breath like Ruby couldn't hear, "Not this time."

Ruby sighed, finally relaxing and tucking her notebook under her arm, "Well, I guess if you are serious..." She grinned suddenly, bouncing on her heels, "Welcome to the team! I'll add you to the list!" If she was evil, they could deal with it later. After all, the plan was for world peace through Jaune. Jaune could turn her back to the light. Just like how Captain Atlas turned Madame Fang from evil in Issue 404!

Cinder's eyes flicked briefly to the notebook as Ruby scribbled furiously.

Cinder Fall – Status: Mysterious, possibly dangerous. Proceed with caution. (But still counts.)

"Excellent," Cinder said, smiling like she just won something.

As Cinder turned and walked away, Ruby watched her retreating figure thoughtfully, 'Weird. But hey, if she wants to join the cause, I'm not complaining.' Ruby snapped her notebook shut, her grin returning full force, 'One more step toward global peace.'

One down, countless more to go. The World Peace Harem Project (Name Pending) was off to a good start.

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Poor Jaune. Can't tell if you're gonna envy or pity him.

Team Rizzless - Chapter 7

Happy New Years! Hell of a way to end/start the year: with a literal bang! Hope you guys enjoy this one. This'll be the last main chapter for Rizzless. I may or may not add omakes in the future, but as of right now, consider this fic finished.

In particular, someone posited the idea of Canon Jaune showing up in the Rizzless world. The only guy with Aura who canonically is a MILF magnet. Huntresses would swarm on him like flies to honey. We'll see if I write that out.

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The next day, Ruby sat at her usual spot in the Beacon cafeteria, picking at her sandwich while Jaune played with his scroll beside her. It was peaceful, for once. No mysterious drink spills. No passive-aggressive comments from random Huntresses passing by. No one trying to "accidentally" trip and fall into Jaune's lap. And no one whining in her ear about how 'unfair' it was that she got Jaune because she wasn't a hornog who thought with her vagina...at least, not most of the time.

It was...quiet, and Ruby was almost suspicious of it. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for any signs of the usual Huntress hijinks. Her gaze landed on a trio of girls from Team ABRN whispering to each other at the far side of the cafeteria. They weren't even looking at Jaune. Odd. What were they-

Wait, no, they were looking. But they looked...nervous.

Ruby raised an eyebrow, setting her sandwich down. She barely had time to question it when she spotted the reason why. Pyrrha was sitting at a nearby table, slowly turning her head toward the whispering girls with the precision of an apex predator catching the scent of fresh meat. Her green eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and the mere act of being caught under Pyrrha's gaze sent the trio scrambling out of the cafeteria like they'd just seen a ghost.

Ruby stared, blinking in awe. Jaune followed her gaze and chuckled softly, "She's, uh...kind of impressive, isn't she?"

"Impressive?" Ruby whispered, watching as Pyrrha returned to her lunch like nothing had happened, "Jaune, she's like...a guard dog. No, a guard lion. And she's ours." Why did saying that cause a tingle to go down her spine? Huh...

He grinned, "I mean, that's kind of why we brought her in, right? Someone to take the pressure off."

Ruby kept staring as Pyrrha casually peeled an orange, her movements delicate and serene - like she hadn't just terrified half the cafeteria with a glance, "Yeah, but I didn't think she'd be this good at it."

Later that day, the benefits of having Pyrrha in their corner became even more apparent.

In combat class, Ruby stood across from Vera, who was not pulling her punches. As usual, Vera was in full attack mode, swinging her axe around like she was trying to send Ruby to the moon, "You're holding back, Ruby!" Vera grinned, swinging wide, "You sure you don't want to take a nap? Maybe Jaune and I could 'talk' while you're recovering."

Ruby's eye twitched, "Vera-"

Before Ruby could even form a rebuttal, Pyrrha's spear flashed between them, locking against Vera's axe with a sharp metallic crack that echoed through the training room. Vera blinked, "Oh! Hey, Pyrrha!" she said nervously, her smile obviously forced.

"Hello, Vera." Pyrrha's voice was sweet, but there was a glint in her eyes that screamed danger, "I thought we agreed not to tease Ruby so much during class."

Vera grinned sheepishly, "Did we? I feel like that was more of a suggestion than-" Pyrrha pushed forward, and her axe - executioner, she called it. Bleh - groaned under the pressure, "...I mean, yeah, I totally remember that. No teasing. I was just kidding around!" Vera let go of her hammer and took a few steps back, hands raised in surrender, "My bad!"

"Glad we understand each other," Pyrrha said sweetly, lowering her weapon.

Ruby watched as Vera retreated to the sidelines, wiping sweat from her brow, "You're terrifying," Ruby muttered under her breath as Pyrrha returned to her side. Even the teacher, Professor Gold, seemed to think that lecturing Pyrrha for interfering with the match wasn't worth her weapon being shoved up her butt.

"I'm efficient," Pyrrha corrected, flashing a calm, almost angelic smile, "I promised I'd help."

"You didn't promise to scare the hell out of everyone." Not that she was complaining.

Pyrrha's eyes gleamed, "Oh, but I did."

By the end of the day, Ruby was giddy. Not only had Pyrrha intercepted multiple teasing attempts from other Huntresses, but she'd done so with such quiet, efficient menace that word was already spreading. Huntresses who had been openly hostile toward Ruby the day before now crossed to the other side of the hall when she passed by. And Jaune? Oh, they gave him a wide berth. The last Huntress who tried something (while Ruby was out, of course) ended up in the clinic under Dr Woods' wrinkled hands after a 'friendly spar' with Pyrrha.

Life was good.

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Ruby had barely stepped foot back into her dorm room before the inevitable storm hit. Yang, Weiss, and Blake were all there, waiting like vultures circling a fresh meal. Yang stood with her arms crossed, glaring at Ruby with the intensity of a thousand burning suns. Weiss paced by the window, muttering something about "gross injustices" and "broken contracts." Blake just sat on her bunk with a book in her lap, but Ruby could feel the unspoken disappointment radiating off of her like heat from a fire.

The second Ruby closed the door, Yang's voice exploded like a grenade, "Pyrrha?!" She growled, throwing her hands in the air, "Pyrrha?! Seriously, Rubes? Out of everyone, you pick her?" She jabbed a thumb at herself, leaning forward like she was about to demand an...honor duel or something, "I'm your sister! If anyone should've been brought into this throuple thing, it should've been me!" Ruby almost laughed at that. It sounded like the memes she and Jaune shared on their breaks.

Ruby blinked, slowly setting her bag down as she processed the sheer audacity in that statement, "Yang...what the hell?" she finally said, dragging a hand down her face. She'd never been so disappointed in her big sis, "You've been harassing me for weeks, telling me I needed to share Jaune, and now you're mad because I did? You can't have it both ways!"

Yang huffed, stomping forward until she loomed over Ruby like an angry, golden-haired shadow. Ruby looked up, completely unimpressed, "Yeah, I said you should share, but not with Pyrrha! I mean, come on, Rubes - family first! There are rules!" Rules? Oh, there were rules now?

Before Ruby could respond, Weiss spun on her heel, her finger pointing directly at Ruby's face with all the indignation an heiress could, "Exactly!" Weiss snapped, her eyes narrowed, "I'm your partner, Ruby! Partner! We're supposed to have each other's backs, and yet here I am - left out, betrayed, tossed aside for someone else!" She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, as if the 'betrayal' was a stab in the heart. Freaking drama queen, "After everything we've been through...Pyrrha, Ruby?"

Ruby stared blankly at Weiss, her eye twitching slightly, "Weiss, you literally called me a 'naïve little hero girl' last week and said I had 'the sex appeal of a wet sock'. And that you had no idea why Jaune would choose me over you. Then you went on a rant about how you'd totally suck Jaune's cock till he was drained dry!"

Weiss blushed, but pride won out over shame, "That was...constructive criticism!" she stammered, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "I was trying to motivate you!"

"Oh, I felt motivated," Ruby deadpanned, "Motivated to never trust you with Jaune, ever."

Blake didn't say anything, but Ruby could see the way her eyes narrowed over the top of her book, and that tiny ear flick gave her away. Blake wasn't the type to yell or throw a tantrum, but there was something almost personal in the way she avoided looking directly at Ruby. She was trying to shame her, "Blake, don't give me that look," Ruby huffed, pointing at her accusingly, "I'm not gonna be guilt-tripped to not sharing my boyfriend with a cringelord!"

"That hurts, Ruby. That hurts me. But I'll feel better if you open up your relationship for a fourth."

Ruby opened her mouth. Then closed it and rubbed her temples, "I hate all of you," she muttered, shaking her head, "I literally picked the one person who wasn't constantly pestering me about Jaune, and somehow that's a problem."

"Because it's Pyrrha," Yang said with exaggerated frustration, gesturing vaguely, "She's, like, the perfect girl-next-door, the perfect one to die as some bitter spinter, and you handed her Jaune on a silver platter. Meanwhile, the actual competition gets stuck on the sidelines!"

Ruby arched a brow, "Did you just call yourself competition? The "

"Yes! And you know what? I'm not ashamed!" Yang said, planting her hands on her hips, "You had a golden opportunity to loop me in, and you blew it."

Ruby groaned, leaning back against the door, "You guys suck. You made my life hell for weeks, and now you're crying betrayal because I didn't pick one of you? Yeah, I'm fine with 'blowing it', Yang. Thanks. I'll live."

Weiss crossed her arms, her lips forming a pout. An actual pout. Not, like, one of those disappointed little half-frowns she had, "It's about the principle, Ruby," she said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "We're your team and I'm your partner. It's a betrayal of our bond for you to deny me like this."

"Oh my gods, no it's not!" Ruby snapped. If she had Crescent Rose with her now, she would've unfurled it, "You all just want Jaune because you're thirsty, desperate horndogs! And yes, Blake, that includes you!"

There was a brief pause. None of them could deny it, but they refused to admit it too. Yang sighed dramatically, flopping onto her bunk like a puppet with its strings cut, "I just thought we had something special, Rubes. I thought you'd have my back."

"You tried to flash him last week when he came to pick me up for our date!"

"It was hot and I was trying to cool off!" Yang lied as easily as she breathed.

Ruby pointed at Weiss, "And you tried to convince him that since you were 'Atlas nobility' and it was his 'duty to please his betters' by shoved his dick in your throat till you couldn't talk!"

"That's called roleplay," Weiss sniffed, looking at Ruby like she did nothing wrong.

Ruby finally pointed at Blake, "You just followed him around in the dark!You didn't even say anything! At least Weiss and Yang didn't try to stalk him to bed!

Blake shrugged, flipping another page, "Stealth's part of my skill set."

Ruby threw her arms up and groaned, "Unbelievable. You're all freaking unbelievable!"

"Look, Rubes, all I'm saying is-'

"Nuh-uh! You don't get to pull the 'reasonable big sig sis' voice," Ruby said, pointing at Yang, "All of you've been acting like jerks and I'm tired of it. Pyrrha's the third here, end of story."

Ruby had barely spun on her heel and grabbed the doorknob when she heard Yang's voice behind her, "Rubes, come on, you can't seriously be mad about this!" Yang called, stomping after her, "We're your team! This should've been a team decision!"

"It's not a team decision! It's my relationship!" Ruby snapped, yanking the door open. She stormed into the hallway, fully prepared to ignore whatever whining or guilt trips they threw at her next, "You guys are acting like I just denied you food or something. Jaune isn't some communal boyfriend we pass around like leftovers!"

"...But he could be," Weiss muttered behind her.

Ruby whipped around, pointing a sharp finger at Weiss, "Stop that." Weiss raised an eyebrow, completely shameless. Ruby wanted to take Myrtenaster and dull her blade. Yeah, she was that mad.

Blake, naturally, had already followed them into the hall, quiet as a shadow, her book still tucked under her arm. Ruby didn't even remember her getting up. Typical, "We just want to talk," Blake said, trying to sound innocent, but Ruby caught the faint gleam in her eyes that screamed lies. Blake always seemed like the most sensible of the trio...up until she opened her mouth. Then it was rants about smut, tragedy, and destiny.

"I know what 'talking' means," Ruby grumbled, rubbing her temples, "It means Yang flexes, Weiss tries to out-rank me cause she's rich and Blake creeps in the corner like she's some mysterious maiden or something."

"I don't creep, I observe," Blake corrected, stepping closer.

"Creep," Ruby shot back, narrowing her eyes.

"Alright, fine, I lurk. But that's besides the point." Blake shrugged, ignoring Ruby's glare, "We're just saying - "

Ruby opened her mouth to shut them all down again, but then Pyrrha appeared. She wasn't sure where she even camefrom. One second, the hallway was clear. The next, Pyrrha stepped gracefully around the corner, holding a small notebook against her chest, "Oh! Ruby!" Pyrrha's face brightened into that warm, sunshine-and-rainbows smile she did so well, "I was just looking for you! I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" she asked, but her voice made it clear that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Ruby felt an immediate sense of relief. Pyrrha's bright green eyes shifted, settling on Yang, Weiss, and Blake like a hawk spotting mice. Her smile remained unchanged, but Ruby swore she saw a faint shadow pass over Pyrrha's expression - brief, subtle, but enough to make Weiss take a small, unconscious step backward.

Yang, naturally, held her ground, even as Pyrrha approached. Say what you want about her big sis, but she was determined, "Oh, hey, Pyr," Yang greeted with forced cheer, crossing her arms, "Didn't see you there."

"I tend to move quietly," Pyrrha replied sweetly, stopping beside Ruby. Her hand rested gently on Ruby's shoulder, as if to subtly underline her territory. Ruby smirked. Pyrrha's gaze flicked over them, polite and calm, but Ruby didn't miss the way Blake stiffened under that stare, her fingers tightening around her book.

"We were just having a little...team meeting," Weiss said, trying to look calmer than she felt.

"Were you?" Pyrrha's tone was soft, but her eyes never left Weiss.

"Yeah," Yang added, squaring her shoulders, "We were just talking to Rubes about how unfair it is that she brought you into this throuple without...consulting the rest of us."

Ruby snorted and muttered under her breath, "Consulting my ass."

"Oh, I see," Pyrrha said, nodding thoughtfully. She still smiled, but Ruby felt the shift in her aura. The metaphorical one, not literal. The way her shoulders squared ever so slightly, the calm predator's grace sliding into place beneath that perfect exterior, "That's certainly understandable. I wouldn't want anyone to feel left out."

Yang blinked, clearly not expecting Pyrrha to agree with, "Right! Exactly! So maybe- "

"Of course," Pyrrha continued, her smile just a touch sharper, "I do have to admit, though...it's rather surprising to hear that."

Yang hesitated, "...Surprising how?"

Pyrrha's head tilted slightly, and for a second, Ruby swore she saw the gleam of Mistralian steel behind those eyes, "Well," Pyrrha said gently, "I'd assumed that you three would've had more...self-preservation."

The air shifted. Ruby's smirk grew. Blake's ears opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Pyrrha clasped her hands together, tilting her head to the side with the gentleness of a kindergarten teacher explaining why eating glue was bad to a bunch of toddlers, "I understand, of course. It's perfectly natural to feel jealous when you see someone else in a healthy, loving relationship. But I just know none of you would ever try to sabotage that, right? After all, we wouldn't want anyone to get hurt: emotionally or physically."

The silence that followed could have shattered glass. Ruby watched as Weiss's back stiffened like she'd just been accused of high treason. Blake pretended to look at her book but wasn't reading a word. Even Yang, the stubborn hothead, shifted from one foot to another, breaking eye contact with Pyrrha for the first time since she arrived. For all of her big sis' bragging, they all knew Pyrrha could smack her around with one hand tied behind her back.

Ruby almost felt bad. Almost.

Yang was the last to hold out, arms crossed in defiance, "Listen, Pyrrha, I get that you're Ruby's chosen one or whatever, but you don't scare me. I'm not just gonna- "

Pyrrha didn't move closer. She didn't raise her voice. She didn't have to. She smiled at Yang. A slow, knowing smile that held the weight of countless Tournament victories and Grimm-slaying accolades. And then, in a voice that was warm, but completely devoid of mercy, Pyrrha said:

"Oh, Yang...push me, and I'll break you."

Yang's eyes widened and she opened her mouth, but no words came. Blake and Weiss slowly stepped behind her as Ruby watched her sister - the same one who headbutted an Ursa to death during Intiiation - crumble before her eyes, "...Yeah, I think we're good here," Yang muttered, backing away with forced nonchalance with Blake and Weiss silently following.

Ruby turned to Pyrrha, who immediately relaxed and smiled like nothing had happened."You're terrifying," Ruby whispered, awe coloring her voice.

Pyrrha giggled, "Oh, Ruby. I just care."

Ruby gulped. There was something about knowing that terrifying force was completely at her disposal that made her feel lightheaded and tingly. The next words slipped out before she could stop herself, "Do you want to go on a date with me and Jaune this weekend?" Pyrrha blinked at the sudden question, but she was obviously pleased, "I mean, you've been helping us out a whole bunch and I haven't really done anything back yet, so..."

"I'd be happy to, Ruby!" Pyrrha clapsed her right hand with both of hers, emerald eyes shining.

"Great! So, uh...yeah, this'll be great!" Ruby beamed.

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The weekend rolled around faster than Ruby expected, and by the time Saturday afternoon hit, she found herself pacing nervously outside Vale's bustling downtown café with Jaune at her side. She tugged at her hoodie, unsure why she suddenly felt self-conscious. It was just a casual date, nothing fancy or over-the-top, "Relax," Jaune said, nudging her lightly with his elbow, "It's not like we're meeting royalty."

"I am relaxed," Ruby muttered, clearly not relaxed. She shot a glare up at him. How the heck was he so calm about this? Then again, she thought, he was pretty calm during their first date too. She still remembered how smug and self-assured she was. She was the mature woman (who got laid) while her team were just angry thots, "This is the first time we're going on a date together with someone else! What if it gets weird?"

Jaune shrugged, easygoing as ever, "Pyrrha's cool. I'm sure it'll be fine."

Ruby chewed her lip, still pacing, "I know, I like Pyrrha. That's part of the problem. She's just so...so Pyrrha." She knew what she was like - that was exactly why she chose her over hundreds of other Huntresses - but it was still...overwhelming. Polyamorous relationships weren't uncommon across Remnant, but the degree always varied. Sometimes, all three (or more...) were all in love and dating each other. And other times, it was just a couple of people agreeing to share a third. Ruby thought the latter was what their thing would be like, but something about how protective Pyrrha was - and knowing it was all for her and Jaune - was making her feel...things.

"You mean sweet, polite, and probably the nicest person at Beacon?" Jaune teased.

"Yeah. And terrifying," Ruby added quickly, shooting him a look.

Before Jaune could respond, Pyrrha's voice called out from the crowd, soft but unmistakable, "Ruby! Jaune!"They turned to see her weaving through the throng of people, dressed down in a casual red sweater, a cream colored skirt, and brown boots combo. Her lips shined with gloss and she went for a darker shade of eyeshadow to emphasize the green of her eyes. She looked effortlessly elegant, but there was a slight nervousness in her smile as she approached, hands clasped in front of her. And unlike the meek, polite smiles she gave the other Huntresses, this was genuine.

"Hey, Pyrrha!" Ruby greeted, putting on her best cheerful voice to mask the fact that she'd nearly forgotten how to breathe, "Right on time!"

"I didn't want to keep you both waiting," Pyrrha replied, her soft smile accompanied by a faint blush as she stopped in front of them.

Jaune chuckled, "You could've been late, Pyrrha. We weren't exactly going anywhere."

Ruby, feeling more in control now that Pyrrha was here, linked arms with Jaune and flashed a grin at Pyrrha, "Alright, team. Operation 'Adorable Throuple Date' is officially underway!" Pyrrha's blush deepened, but she nodded shyly.

Their first stop was the café. It was small and cozy, tucked away near the park, with an outdoor patio where the three of them could sit. Ruby made sure Pyrrha sat between her and Jaune, sandwiching her in what Ruby considered a protective formation. It was time for them to take the lead now, "So," Jaune said, sipping his coffee, "What's everyone feeling for the rest of the day?"

"There's that new action movie at the theater," Ruby suggested, glancing over at Pyrrha, who was quietly stirring her tea, "You down for that, Pyrrha?"

"Oh, I don't mind at all," Pyrrha said softly, her hands curling around her cup, "Whatever you both want to do is fine with me."

Ruby's heart ached. Pyrrha was so meek about this. Too meek. She was practically shrinking into herself. This was the same girl who could terrify half the Huntresses at Beacon with a look. And yet here she was, struggling to hold eye contact over a simple date.

Ruby nudged Jaune subtly under the table, signaling him to let her take the lead. He nodded into his cup, "Well, that's not gonna fly," Ruby said with a playful grin, "This is a date, Pyrrha. You get to pick some stuff too! It's not just about Jaune and me."

Pyrrha fidgeted with her cup, "I...well, maybe a walk in the park after the movie? If that's alright?"

"Absolutely," Jaune said with an easy smile.

"Perfect! See? Not so hard," Ruby chimed in, reaching over to give Pyrrha's hand a quick squeeze. Pyrrha's eyes widened slightly at the contact, but she didn't pull away.

Her hand was warm.

The movie was next, and Ruby made sure Pyrrha sat in the middle again, sandwiched between her and Jaune. Pyrrha seemed happy with it, though Ruby noticed how carefully Pyrrha's hands stayed in her lap throughout the film. Not that they were still. She wrung her hands together through most of the early run and Ruby didn't miss the way her eyes flicked over to Jaune's right hand, which was lying down at the armrest.

Near the middle, Ruby subtly slid her hand over, intertwining her fingers with Pyrrha's. Pyrrha stiffened slightly in surprise but glanced over at Ruby, eyes wide. Ruby flashed her a quick grin and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Pyrrha's blush was practically glowing, but she squeezed back, her thumb brushing lightly against Ruby's knuckles in return.

By the time they left the theater and wandered toward the park, Pyrrha seemed to have relaxed a little more. The setting sun cast a warm, orange glow over the area, and the three of them strolled leisurely along the cobblestone paths. This was...nice. If she picked any one of her team, they wouldn't want to watch movies or have walks in the park. No, they'd be demanding to fuck Jaune right then and there. Weiss would probably (definitely) do it right on the cobblestones, too. Right in front of everyone.

Pyrrha walked close enough to brush against Ruby's arm every so often, and though she never initiated more than that, Ruby could tell she wanted to, "Pyrrha," Ruby said, glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, "You can hold Jaune's hand, you know. It's not illegal."

Jaune chuckled, giving her that sweet smile that was reserved for her up until a week ago. Normally, Ruby would've been jealous and angry, but not now. This was Pyrrha, the one who'd been breaking her back to make sure the other Huntresses didn't bother them, "Yeah, I don't bite."

Pyrrha flushed and hesitated for a second. Then, with the smallest, most delicate motion, she reached over and slipped her hand into Jaune's, holding it like she thought it might break if she gripped too hard.

Ruby's heart throbbed at the sight

They walked quietly for a while, the warm breeze brushing past them as the sun dipped further down. Ruby couldn't help but marvel at how gentle and cute Pyrrha was during all this. The strongest, most intimidating Huntress at Beacon was reduced to bashful hand-holding like some lovestruck schoolgirl.

At one point, Pyrrha glanced shyly at Ruby, "Ruby?"

"Yeah?"

Pyrrha's voice was barely above a whisper, "Would it be alright...if I kissed Jaune's cheek? And yours too?"

Ruby's heart skipped. She blinked, caught entirely off guard by how polite and careful Pyrrha was about the whole thing, "Uh, yeah! I mean, yes. Of course! Totally" Ruby practically stumbled over her stopped walking for a second, leaning in gently to place a soft kiss against Ruby's cheek before pulling away, her face glowing red. Before she could doubt herself anymore, she turned and did the same to Jaune.

Ruby stood there for a moment, processing. Her hands clenched into little fists at her sides as she tried not to melt into a puddle, "Pyrrha," she said slowly, trying to find the words, "Do you wanna go back to Beacon tonight? Or...do something else?" She didn't have to clarify what she meant. They both knew. Jaune seemed surprised but nodded encouragingly while Pyrrha licked her lips out of nervousness...or was it excitement? Both?

"Let's...do something else?"

"Something else it is."

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It was late by the time the three of them left the park, the quiet evening air filled with a kind of serene energy that only seemed to come when everything felt just right. Ruby walked between Jaune and Pyrrha, their hands loosely clasped as they strolled along the dimly lit streets of Vale. The whole day had been perfect - better than Ruby had hoped. Pyrrha had been sweet and shy, Jaune had been his usual charming self, and Ruby felt more relaxed than she had in weeks.

But as they passed by a certain building - a tall, sleek establishment with glowing neon lights and a sign that read "Moonlit Suites" - Ruby felt her cheeks heat up.

It was the same love hotel she and Jaune had gone to after their first date.

Jaune noticed her hesitation and smirked knowingly, "Déjà vu?" he teased, nudging her shoulder gently.

"Shut up," Ruby muttered, her face turning red.

Pyrrha, who had been walking quietly beside them, tilted her head curiously, "What is it?"

Ruby hesitated, glancing between Jaune and Pyrrha. This was supposed to be their first date together as a throuple, and as much as Ruby wanted to keep things sweet and innocent, she couldn't ignore the heat rising between them. Pyrrha had been so endearing all day - so cute and meek - that Ruby couldn't stop herself from wanting to take things a step further. Besides, Pyrrha had asked for 'something else' earlier. And who was she to disappoint?

She took a deep breath and turned to Pyrrha, "Do you...wanna go inside?" she asked, nodding toward the hotel.

Pyrrha blinked, her green eyes widening. It took a moment for the implication to register, but when it did, her face lit up like a firework, "Oh! Um, I...well, I didn't think it would be here, but..." She trailed off, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sweater.

Ruby reached out, gently placing a hand on Pyrrha's arm, "Hey, no pressure. It's just an idea. If you're not ready yet, we don't have to- "

"No! I mean, yes! I am ready!" Pyrrha blurted out, her cheeks blazing red. She glanced down, biting her lip shyly, "I...I'd like that. If you and Jaune would like that too."

Jaune chuckled softly, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I guess that settles it."

Ruby grinned, squeezing Pyrrha's hand, "Alright, then. Let's go."

The room was simple but cozy, with soft lighting, clean linens, and just enough decor to feel romantic without being overwhelming. Ruby kicked off her boots near the door and glanced over at Pyrrha, who was standing near the bed, her hands clasped tightly in front of her as she looked around with wide eyes.

"This is...nice," Pyrrha said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Ruby stepped closer, taking Pyrrha's hand in hers, "Hey, you okay?"

Pyrrha nodded quickly, though her blush betrayed her nerves, "I'm fine. Just...nervous."

"That's normal," Jaune said, his voice calm and reassuring as he sat on the edge of the bed, "We can take it slow. No rush."

Pyrrha looked between the two of them, her expression shifting from nervous to determined. She straightened her back, her hands going to the hem of her sweater, "No. I want this," she said firmly, though her blush deepened as she began to pull the sweater over her head.

Ruby and Jaune both froze, watching as Pyrrha removed her top, revealing a simple lace bra that did little to hide the faint tremble in her shoulders. She hesitated for only a moment before reaching for the waistband of her skirt, letting it drop to the floor with a soft rustle.

Standing there in her matching bra and panties, Pyrrha looked more vulnerable and beautiful than Ruby had ever seen her. Her toned, muscular body was bare for them to see, her lightly tanned skin completely flawless. Huntresses were some of the most attractive people on Remnant, and the most fit too. If it wasn't for their cringy attitudes, she was sure all of them would've had harems full of guys lining up for a crumb of attention.

And yet, Pyrrha put them all to shame.

Pyrrha fidgeted slightly under their gaze, her hands clasped in front of her stomach as she bit her lip, "Um...what should I do now?" she asked shyly. Ruby's heart melted. Pyrrha, the terrifyingly competent warrior who could strike fear into the hearts of Beacon's Huntresses, was standing here, blushing like a schoolgirl and waiting for her instructions.

Ruby stepped forward, gently taking Pyrrha's hands and looking up at her with a warm smile, "Just relax," she said softly, "We'll take care of you."

She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse quicken as the reality of the situation settled over her. Pyrrha stood before her and Jaune, blushing up a storm but entirely obedient, her emerald eyes wide and waiting. It was...a lot to take in.

Ruby hesitated for a moment, her mind racing as she tried to figure out what to say next. She glanced at Jaune, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking equally unsure but clearly trusting Ruby to take the lead.

"Um..." Ruby started, her voice a little shaky. She cleared her throat and tried again, this time with more confidence, "Pyrrha, why don't you, uh...kneel in front of Jaune?"

The words barely left her mouth before Pyrrha moved. Without a second's hesitation, the redhead dropped gracefully to her knees, positioning herself directly in front of Jaune with an almost regal poise. Her blush deepened, but there was no mistaking the quiet eagerness in her expression as she looked up at him.

Ruby's breath hitched. Oh. Oh. This was new.

She wasn't sure what she'd expected, but the way Pyrrha followed her instructions so easily - without hesitation, without question - sent a strange thrill through her. Ruby's mind raced, a mix of surprise and curiosity swirling in her chest. Did she...did she like this? Seeing Pyrrha like this? The answer came quickly, and it was a resounding yes. She loved the idea of Pyrrha - the Invincible Girl, the best Huntress at Beacon - following her every order.

"Huh...neat," Ruby muttered under her breath, her cheeks heating up at the realization. She'd never thought of herself as someone who liked being in charge, but with Pyrrha looking up at her like that, all shy and obedient, Ruby felt an unexpected rush of confidence.

Jaune glanced at Ruby, "You okay there, Rubes?" he asked, clearly noticing the way her face had gone a little red.

Ruby snapped out of her thoughts, her eyes darting to Jaune before quickly returning to Pyrrha, "Y-Yeah! I'm good! Totally good!" she said, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. She cleared her throat again, trying to regain her composure, "Just, uh...making sure everything's going smoothly."

Pyrrha tilted her head slightly, her green eyes flicking between Ruby and Jaune as she waited patiently for whatever came next. There was a faint tremble in her hands, but she kept them neatly folded in her lap, her posture as perfect as ever.

Ruby gulped again, her heart racing as she realized that Pyrrha was waiting for her next command. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn't help the small, almost smug smile that crept onto her lips.

"Okay," Ruby said, her voice steadier this time, "Um...let's take things naturally. No pressure, right?" She glanced at Jaune, who nodded in agreement.

"Right," Jaune said, his tone calm and reassuring as he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from Pyrrha's face, "We're all here to make this a good time. As a throuple."

Pyrrha nodded, her blush deepening as she leaned ever so slightly into Jaune's touch, "Thank you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ruby watched the interaction, her confidence growing as she realized just how much Pyrrha trusted them - trusted her. She might not have expected this dynamic, but she was starting to think she could get used to it.

Without another word said, Jaune unbuttoned his jeans and quickly shimmied out of them, his boxers falling soon after. Pyrrha gasped at the sight of Jaune's cock, all ten-inches of it. Ruby had to stop herself from breaking out into a grin. She remembered when she first saw it. It was barely more than a montha go, but it felt like a lifetime now. A lifetime since she'd gone from being just another Huntress-in-training to a woman.

And now, it was Pyrrha's turn.

"Wh...What am I supposed to do?" Pyrrha whispered nervously, looking up at the towering pillar of cockmeat. She licked her lips and swallowed when she saw it twitch, "I...I don't really have any experience with-"

"Shh. It's okay, Pyrrha," Ruby whispered, kneeling to Pyrrha's left. Ruby had taken off her hoodie and shorts, leaving her in a pair of black and red bra and panties, "Remember what I said? We'll take care of you." Pyrrha shuddered at the words, and Ruby shuddered too. Above them, Jaune's eyes were wide and he chewed on his lower lip. Most men, when faced with two horny Huntresses, would've been running for the hills. But not her Jaune...their Jaune.

"So, what do I..."

"Open your mouth." Once again, Pyrrha followed without question. Ruby licked her own lips, the words 'good girl' nearly slipping out before she stopped herself. Not yet, she thought as she leaned in closer to Pyrrha's left ear, "You - we - are going to make Jaune really happy. But let's not rush into it, okay?" Pyrrha nodded. Her eyes hadn't left his cock once, "Jaune's pretty big, so we'll take it slow. Try licking it first. Think of it like ice cream."

"Ice cream. R-Right..." Pyrrha gulped again and stuck her tongue out. Ruby almost cooed at how oddly innocent it looked. The tip of the pink wall of muscle gently pressed against the spot right above his balls. It stayed there for a couple of seconds, as if Pyrrha couldn't believe what she was doing, before it slowly trailed up. Jaune hissed softly in pleasure, hands grabbing at the blanket tightly, as Pyrrha continued on. Despite her face being redder than her hair, she refused to stop.

She braced herself by holding onto Jaune's thighs and breathed out through her nose. Her tongue stopped at the frenulum for just a second before she tilted her head and kept licking. It wasn't anything like the porn she watched to prepare herself. Pyrrha wasn't confident and there wasn't any kind of pattern or dirty talk, but she could tell that only made it sexier for Jaune. It was sincere, and the nervousness was different

"That's it, just like that..." Ruby murmured, rubbing circles across Pyrrha's back, "I'm right here, don't worry." She almost couldn't believe what was happening. If it was literally anyone else doing what Pyrrha did now, she would've exploded already. But now, she wanted to see more, "You're making Jaune feel so good, Pyrrha." Pyrrha moaned softly, not really able to say anything else considering her tongue was glued to Jaune's dick, "You're being so good for us."

Pyrrha continued to lick for a couple more minutes before she escalated. Her lips, still shining slightly from the gloss, pressed against the veiny pillar in a nervous kiss. The cock twitched in response to the feather-light contact, and Pyrrha hummed, "Am I doing good?"

"Damn...so good..." Jaune murmured, running a hand through her thick crimson hair.

"I hope you didn't forget about me!" Ruby chirped. Before Jaune could deny ever doing that (cause he definitely would), Ruby dipped her head and pressed her own kiss against Jaune's aching, churning balls. She wasn't much more experienced than Pyrrha when it came to this stuff. Sure, she sucked Jaune's cock before, but it was usually just foreplay. Something she did to set the mood before they got to the main event. It was never something she lingered on.

It was different now. Ruby gently sucked at the wrinkled skin, looking up at Jaune with her wide silver eyes. She could practically feel his cum churning in the two pouches, desperate to coat her and Pyrrha in his seed, "Mmmm~" Ruby moaned. It was only slightly exagerrated. She loved the way his breathing quickened, how his other hand tried to grab her head and missed because of how distracted he was.

Not one to be outdone, Pyrrha continued to kiss and lick her way all along Jaune's shaft. She was more confident now, as if Ruby being down here with her was just the boost she needed, "Fuck, fuck..." Jaune murmured. Oh, she loved hearing him sound like that! There was an undeniable thrill to knowing that she - they - were responsible for Jaune coming undone. Jaune, who went to a school full of Huntresses and didn't quit no matter how many of those bitches tried to get into his pants. Jaune, who always had that sweet smile and tried to see the best in people.

Jaune, who was moaning and groaning like an animal in heat.

Ruby sucked on his right ball for another moment before she pulled away with a soft pop. Moving up slightly, she positioned herself so her mouth was pressing against the right side of Jaune's erect cock. Pyrrha followed her lead immediately and positioned herself to the left, both of them taking half of the pillar of dick.

They didn't need to say anything. Ruby kissed and licked her side while Pyrrha did the same. It wasn't in perfect rythym, and they bumped shoulders a few times when they tried to move up, but that was alright. It didn't need to be perfect. Ruby dragged her lips slowly up the cock, leaving a small trail of saliva in her wake. She focused on making her way to the head while Pyrrha continued to kiss, lick, and suck closer to his testicles.

Silver eyes twinkled as she felt the dick twitch under her lips. Oh, he was close, she could feel it. She tapped Pyrrha's shoulder and silently ordered the champion to follow her lead. The two of them moved till their lips were pressed against both sides of the twitching head of his cock. They kissed the mushroom-shaped tip gently, practically kissing each other. Jaune's hands managed to find their way to both their heads. His fingers ran across their sweat-soaked hair.

"F-Fuck, I'm gonna...!"

Ruby pulled back suddenly, causing her boyfriend to whine, "Why don't we let Pyrrha take this one?" She gently held the back of Pyrrha's head and led her lips to the front of the tip. Pyrrha let her, and without Ruby needing to say anything, she opened her mouth.

Her grip on the crimson locks tightened as she pushed and pulled Pyrrha's head across the length of his dick. She hesitated for a moment, and Ruby wondered if maybe she pushed too far, before Pyrrha suddenly surged forward till her nose was practically pressed against Jaune's groin. Ruby smiled, eyes lighting up in glee at just how eager she was.

Eager and subservient.

"D-Damn it, I-I'm cumming!"

Pyrrha's eyes widened as Jaune groaned and the first wave of seed filled her throat. Ruby held her down, forcing her to take every inch of the spasming cock as Jaune unloaded himself inside her, "Mmmgh...!" Pyrrha moaned, bracing herself against Jaune's thighs as she desperately tried to swallow the deluge of cum.

She needed some motivation.

Ruby leaned down and whispered against her ear, "You can take it, Pyrrha," she said hoarsely. Emerald eyes met silver, and Ruby saw both the desperation and the desire to please, "You're doing so well, Pyrrha. Look at how happy you're making us." She pressed her lips against the delicate skin, "Good girl."

That was all she needed. Her eyes widened and she sucked down Jaune's seed like she was built for it. Even when Ruby let go of her hair, Pyrrha stayed down, determined to make sure that not a single drop of Jaune's seed was wasted. Jaune himself looked delirious, like he couldn't believe this was really happening. Even now, after weeks of dating, he still had that wide-eyed innocent look every time it happened. She never got tired of it.

Seconds passed before Pyrrha eventually pulled back, separating herself from the cock. A bridge of saliva connected the soaking wet dick to Pyrrha's puffy lips before her right hand wiped it away. She looked up at Jaune, and when she parted her mouth, both he and Ruby saw her tongue streaked with white before she closed it again and swallowed.

"D...Did I do good?" she asked, looking at them both.

...

"Jaune, you need to take her virginity. Now."

"Huh?" Jaune blinked, still half-dazed.

"Don't 'huh' me! Just look at her!" She gestured to the blushing champion, "She needs this, Jaune! She's practically a unicorn! Do you get how lucky we are to have someone sane?!" She patted the bed with both hands, "I'm willing to take a backseat! Come on, do it already!"

"A-Alright!"

Jaune tried to sit up before Pyrrha cut in softly, "C-Could I be on top? I...I just think it might be better."

"Jaune?" Ruby tilted her head.

"It's fine with me." Jaune shifted his position till he was lying down on his back. Pyrrha chewed on her lower lip and climbed on top of him while Ruby did the same, though she made sure she was sat behind Pyrrha. As tempted as she was to sit on Jaune's face so he could eat her out, this was his and Pyrrha's first time. They could get into the real naughty stuff once they popped Pyrrha's cherry. She already had some ideas with that Semblance of hers.

Pyrrha mounted Jaune, her pussy just inches away from his still rock-hard member, "O-Okay, here we go..." Pyrrha closed her eyes, raised her hips, and slowly lowered her entrance over the tip.

It slipped.

Ruby blinked. What? She watched as Pyrrha raised her hips one more time. Again, the head of his cock slipped, brushing over her lower lips but refusing to go inside, "I-Is something wrong?" Jaune asked, "Did I mess something up?"

"No! It's not you! It's..." Pyrrha grit her teeth and tried again. Same results as last time, "I...I can't get it in! I don't know what's wrong!"

"Should we switch positions?" Jaune asked.

"Hold on, lemme help." She reached over and grabbed Jaune's dick. This definitely wasn't how she thought she'd be holding his cock, "Alright, on three. One, two, three!"

Pyrrha lowered herself again while she made sure to keep the dick pointed straight up. As soon as the head pushed through the soft folds, Ruby felt...a disturbance. Time seemed to pause at that moment. Her eyes focused on Jaune's look of pleasure and Pyrrha's shocked expression. The room around them had shifted. Gone was the oddly tasteful love hotel, replaced instead by an inky void. Like their bed was transported into the abyss.

It didn't last long. Just when Ruby was deciding if she was dreaming or not, a glow emanated from her eyes, quickly overpowering the shadows. The bright, silver light dispelled the darkness, and she could've sworn she heard the disembodied voice of an asshole (she could just tell he was an asshole, don't ask how) screaming, "NOOOOOOOO! MY PERFECT LEGAAACCCYYYY!"

Ruby blinked, and when she opened her eyes again, Pyrrha was bouncing on Jaune's dick like a woman possessed, "Oh...Oh, Sisters!" Pyrrha cried. Literally, she was crying. Her hands pressed against Jaune's chest and she sobbed while she bounced with a desperation she'd never seen before, "I...I never thought this would happen! I thought I'd die a lonely virgin! Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Oh, thank you! I love you both!"

...

Alright, so she was just gonna ignore that. She had more important things to worry about. Like making sure Pyrrha had the best first time in her life.

Hours later, the three of them were cuddled up in bed together. Pyrrha stopped sobbing a while ago, though Ruby still heard the occassional hiccup here and there, as if she couldn't believe she'd actually done it. She imagined just about any Huntress would be the same, but there was something different about what happened.

...

Whatever. Ruby put it out of her mind. It was fine now.

When they finally left the hotel the next day (after sharing a shower, hehe), they ran into Blake and Weiss at the entrance. Ruby's eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. Yang was nowhere in sight, but that didn't mean she was happy to see her two teammates in here, of all places.

"Ruby." Weiss coughed.

"Weiss." Ruby crossed her arms, "Why are you two here?"

The heiress and the island princess looked at one another for a moment before Blake stepped forward, "Your offer to let us watch if we apologized...is it still on the table?"

...

"...Lemme get back to you on that." Ruby grabbed Jaune and Pyrrha's hands and dragged them out, ignoring the two's whining.

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The sun hung low over the horizon, painting the skies above Patch in hues of gold and pink as Jaune, Ruby, and Pyrrha approached the cozy Rose-Xiao Long cottage. Ruby walked a little ahead, buzzing with nervous energy, while Jaune and Pyrrha followed closely behind, their hands intertwined, "This is going to be great," Ruby said, half to herself and half to them, "Mom and Dad are super chill, and Aunt Raven is...well, you'll see."

Pyrrha tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly, "Should I be worried?" she asked softly, glancing up at Jaune for reassurance.

"I'm not sure, but from what I've heard from Ruby, her aunt's not exactly the easiest to get along with," Jaune said dryly, earning a light elbow from Ruby.

They reached the door, and before Ruby could knock, it flew open, revealing Mom in all her bright-eyed, mom-energy glory, "Ruby! My little Rosebud!" she squealed, wrapping Ruby in a tight hug before turning her attention to Jaune and Pyrrha, "And you must be Jaune and Pyrrha! Come in, come in! We've been waiting all day to meet you two!"

The trio stepped inside, greeted by the warm, homey interior of the cottage. Dad sat on the couch with a cup of tea, his blond hair slightly messy but his expression relaxed. Beside him, Aunt Raven leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed and her crimson eyes sharp as they took in the newcomers.

Jaune and Tai exchanged nods, a silent understanding passing between them. It wasn't the nod of strangers meeting for the first time, but the acknowledgment of two men who had faced the same grueling trial: managing relationships with Huntresses, "Jaune," Tai said with a small grin, raising his cup in a mock toast, "Respect."

Jaune smiked, giving a small nod back, "Respect."

Summer beamed as she ushered them toward the couch, "Sit, sit! I want to hear everything about how you three got together!" She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, "Ruby, start from the beginning. Leave nothing out!"

"Mom!" Ruby whined, her face turning red, "That's private!"

Summer waved her off with a laugh, "Oh, please. I shared my stories with you when you were growing up. Fair's fair."

"A little too much," Ruby muttered under her breath. A ten year old didn't need to know how they had to fight away a thirst brigade of Huntresses during their wedding.

While Mom peppered her with questions, Aunt Raven's gaze locked onto Pyrrha. Her girlfriend shifted nervously under the looks, her posture straightening instinctively as Raven pushed off the wall and approached, "So," Raven said, her voice low and even, "You're the third."

Pyrrha nodded, "I...yes, I am. Yes."

Raven crossed her arms, a faint smirk playing at her lips, "Good. You'll need to learn how to defend your claim properly. These two might be capable, but let's face it, thirsty Huntresses are relentless. You're the shield here, Pyrrha. The protector. And I'm going to teach you how to do it right."

Pyrrha blinked, her expression suddenly turning fierce, "I think I'm doing well enough, thank you. Ruby and Jaune certainly haven't complained."

Raven grinned, her expression equal parts intimidating and approving, "Sure, sure, but you're still fresh meat. You're scaring off the bitches now, but they get more and more desperate. Trust me, I know that from experience. You need to learn how to hit 'em where it hurts."

"Raven..." Dad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Not everyone wants to use your methods."

"They work," Raven said simply, "You're both still here, aren't you?"

"Do they involve threatening bodily harm?" Jaune asked cautiously.

Raven looked at him like he'd just asked if water was wet, "Obviously. Is there any other kind?"

Pyrrha hesitated, glancing between Raven and her companions, "I...I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe."

Ruby groaned, burying her face in her hands, "Great. Now Aunt Raven's going to make her scarier than she already is!" Not that Ruby was complaining too much, mind you. A scary Pyrrha was...fun (read: really hot).

Mom, ignoring the growing chaos, clapped her hands together, "This is wonderful! We can all sit down for dinner, swap stories, and maybe even have a little sparring session afterward when Yang gets here!"

"I'm not sparring Aunt Raven," Ruby said quickly, "Not after last time."

Jaune raised an eyebrow, "What happened last time?"

"She broke Crescent Rose. Twice," Ruby muttered, crossing her arms. The second time she was just being petty!

Aunt Raven smirked, "Consider it a learning experience."

Jaune sighed, leaning back against the couch, "This is going to be...interesting."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Not a lot of focus on the insertion sex, but I figured we had enough of that in Ruby's first segment, so more on the BJ and Ruby finding out she really likes dominating Pyrrha. Oh, and Ruby's Silver Eyes breaking the curse without her really realizing it.

Anyway, hope you guys liked this one. And again, happy new year!

House Husband Hunting - Chapter 3

Another old fic I’m getting back to updating. Hope you guys enjoy.

Patreon Note: Here's the link to Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. Also, fanfiction doc manager is down, so I had to use google docs. This might make it look kinda weird since I'm not used to writing there. Hopefully it comes back up again soon.

[line break]

Yang stood alone in the team’s dorm room, the soft glow of the mirror’s light reflecting off the sheer fabric of her clubbing outfit. The tight, low-cut black top clung to her in all the right places, and the skirt – short enough to make Weiss faint – highlighted the strong curve of her hips. Her signature golden locks cascaded down her back in thick, perfect waves, catching the light like spun sunshine. She adjusted the neckline a little lower, smirking at her reflection.

"Alright, Blondie," Yang whispered, striking a pose and flexing one arm to check the tone in her biceps, "You’re a total knockout. Absolute weapon of mass seduction." She laughed to herself at the wordplay. The puns would be the slam dunk to this whole thing. 

She gave herself a wink, turning to the side and running a hand down her hip, letting out a low whistle at the way the skirt swayed with the movement. If Jaune wasn’t practically drooling by the time she walked into the cafeteria, then Beacon’s entire population of guys must have been blind.

"Seriously, why’s this even a competition?" she muttered to herself, fluffing her hair with both hands as she struck another pose, "Ruby’s cute and all, but she’s, like, a walking puppy. Weiss? Please, she probably sends Jaune invoices for emotional support. And Blake? Pfft." Yang smirked wider, rolling her eyes, "Blake’s hot, sure, but moody catgirl chic’s not for everyone. Jaune’s a guy – and what guy doesn’t wanna hang with the fun, sexy blonde?" She gave her reflection finger guns, tongue clicking behind her teeth, "Bam. Instant girlfriend material."

This wasn’t even her full power. This was just the casual clubbing outfit. If this didn’t work, she had The Dress in the closet – the one she only pulled out for extreme emergencies or breaking hearts at Signal back when she used to crash their parties.

As she twisted, checking every possible angle, Yang flexed one more time, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. Jaune wouldn’t stand a chance. Pyrrha could be Miss Mistral four years running and Ruby could hog his lap with her puppy-dog eyes, but in the end, raw, untamed sex appeal would win out. And who was hotter than her?

"Yang Xiao Long," she declared, smoothing out the front of her top, "future girlfriend of Jaune Arc." She struck another pose, tilting her head slightly, "I mean...why wouldn’t he want me?" she said aloud, one brow quirking thoughtfully as her reflection held her gaze, "I’m the whole package. Killer looks. Fun personality. Strong. Can punch a Nevermore in the face and still look good doing it."

Jaune liked strong girls, didn’t he? He followed Pyrrha around like a lost puppy for months, and Yang definitely had more muscle than Pyrrha in the right places. Plus, she had better hair. No contest. She smirked.

Her gaze dipped slightly, looking at the hem of the skirt. Okay, maybe it was a little much for a casual visit to the cafeteria, but this was war. The others weren’t pulling any punches, so why should she, "Alright, Jaune," Yang whispered, running a finger along the neckline of her top, "You’re about to experience the full force of the Yang Xiao Long charm offensive. May the best girl win."

She spun on her heel, grabbing her jacket as she flung it over one shoulder. She didn’t bother buttoning it up – the whole point was to show off, not cover up.

The rest of her team wasn’t back from their library study session yet. Ruby was still recovering from her "sleepwalking accident," and Blake and Weiss were too busy plotting their next moves to pay attention to her. Perfect timing.

As Yang stepped toward the door, she grinned to herself, picturing Jaune’s inevitable reaction. His jaw would drop. Pyrrha would glare. Ruby would pout. Weiss would huff and try to act like she wasn’t jealous. And Blake? Blake would probably just keep reading her book – but even she’d sneak a glance.

"Time to remind Jaune why blondes have more fun," Yang purred, shutting the door behind her.

[line break]

The cafeteria was as bleak as ever. The Vale council's cost-cutting measures were evident in every dry bite of the uninspired meals. Students hunched over their trays, quietly lamenting their fates, their spirits crushed by the relentless monotony of meatloaf and green gelatin. It was an atmosphere of shared misery, thick enough to attract Grimm if anyone dared to express their frustration too loudly.

But then the doors to the cafeteria swung open with a flourish, and Yang Xiao Long strode in like she owned the place.

Heads turned. Conversations trailed off mid-sentence. The dim, hopeless energy shifted, like a cloud parting to let through a single beam of golden light. Yang’s heels clicked confidently against the tiled floor, her jacket slung over her shoulder to perfectly frame the killer outfit she’d spent a good thirty minutes perfecting. She smirked as she caught the stares.

‘Yeah, that’s right, people. Drink it in.’

Most of the students immediately looked away, trying to focus on their sad trays of meat and potatoes before the simmering collective jealousy got out of hand. A few braver souls kept staring, jaws slack as Yang sauntered through the room like it was a runway.

Her eyes zeroed in on her target: Jaune Arc, sitting at their usual table with an untouched tray of food in front of him. He was chatting with Ren, who, surprisingly, seemed to be eating his meal without complaint, and Nora, who was making a valiant effort to animate the mood with a story that involved wild hand gestures and the occasional explosion sound effect. Pyrrha sat nearby, occasionally glancing at Jaune with an expression that screamed "conflicted crush," while Blake and Weiss were notably absent - probably still scheming.

Perfect. No Ruby to cling to him like a barnacle, no Weiss to swoop in with her ‘generous offers.’

Yang’s smirk widened, and she made her move.

"Hey, Vom- uh, Jaune!" she called, loud enough for most of the room to hear. A couple of heads turned in confusion, but she didn’t care. Her voice carried all the confidence of someone who knew she’d already won.

Jaune looked up, startled, and then smiled sheepishly, "Hey, Yang. Uh, didn’t you say you were going to take it easy today after yesterday’s workout?"

She waved him off as if the question was beneath her, "Eh, I heal fast. Besides, I’ve got something way more fun planned tonight, and you’re coming with me."

Nora raised an eyebrow, intrigued, while Ren continued eating as if nothing unusual was happening. Pyrrha, on the other hand, looked like she’d just been slapped with a fish. Her eyes flicked between Yang and Jaune, trying to process what was happening.

"Uh...fun?" Jaune repeated, clearly trying to keep up.

"Yeah, the club in Vale," Yang said, stopping in front of him and planting a hand on the table. She leaned in slightly, giving him a perfect view of her smirk - and, not coincidentally, the neckline of her top, "Music, dancing, drinks - you, me, and a night to remember. What do you say?"

Jaune blinked, completely caught off guard, "Wait, like...a nightclub?"

"That’s the one," she said, standing up straight again and flipping her hair over her shoulder. The golden waves shimmered under the harsh cafeteria lighting, making her look like a goddess descending to mingle with mere mortals, "I’ve been meaning to check it out, and I figured I’d bring my favorite partner in crime."

"I...uh..." Jaune hesitated, scratching the back of his head. He looked genuinely torn, glancing at Pyrrha as if seeking permission, which only made Yang’s grin widen.

"Great!" she said before he could muster an actual response. She clapped him on the shoulder, the force of it almost making him drop his fork, "I knew you’d be up for it. You’re always up for an adventure."

"Wait, I didn’t actually - "

"I’ll meet you down there," Yang interrupted breezily, already turning on her heel, "Be ready by eight. And wear something nice, okay? No onesies."

She sauntered away before Jaune could protest, her hips swaying just enough to make her exit as eye-catching as her entrance. Behind her, the table was silent except for Nora’s stifled giggle and Pyrrha’s barely audible growl. She could feel Ren glaring daggers at her back, but she ignored him. Snooze and you lose.

Yang couldn’t have been more pleased with herself. She’d played that perfectly. Sure, Jaune hadn’t explicitly said yes, but hesitation? That was basically consent in situations like these. He wasn’t the type to back out once plans were made, especially not with someone as irresistible as her. She allowed herself a quiet chuckle as she left the cafeteria, already planning her next moves. Jaune would meet her at the club, and she’d make sure he had the time of his life. By the end of the night, he’d be completely smitten, and the others wouldn’t stand a chance.

After all, who could compete with the full force of Yang Xiao Long in her element?

And just in case, she’d start prepping the dress. She wouldn’t need it tonight - this outfit would do - but if Weiss or Pyrrha tried to escalate? Well, she’d bring out the big guns. Literally.

[line break]

The night had all the makings of a triumph as Yang stood outside the club in Vale, her outfit dazzling under the neon lights. She’d dressed to perfection, and even made sure to fluff her hair with her best shampoo to give it that extra oomph. Her confidence was sky-high, and the backup plan, the dress, stayed tucked safely in the closet for now. She wouldn’t need it. Tonight, she was going to win Jaune Arc over with charm, wit, and undeniable allure.

Well, and maybe a few subtle hints. She grinned, imagining his dorky expression as he realized she wasn’t just being friendly.

Her first hiccup came at the door.

Strike One: The Bouncer Bribe

Yang had approached the bouncer with the usual swagger, fully expecting her natural charisma to get them inside without a hitch. Unfortunately, the towering, no-nonsense man guarding the entrance wasn’t buying what she was selling, "ID," he rumbled, his voice so deep it practically shook the ground.

Yang flashed him a dazzling smile, casually leaning against the velvet rope, "C’mon, big guy. You really think I’m not old enough to handle a club like this?"

The bouncer stared at her, unimpressed, "ID."

"I’m a Huntress-in-training. I fight Grimm every other day."

"Grimm don’t serve you drinks." Damn, now she was wishing they did, "ID."

"Alright, alright," Yang muttered, fishing out her scroll and handing over her ID. As he inspected it, she decided to test the waters, "So, how about letting my friend and me in for free tonight? We’re kind of a big deal." She gestured to Jaune, who was standing awkwardly behind her, "Shit, you’re probably getting extra customers just ‘cause I’m here."

"Big deal, huh?" The bouncer raised an eyebrow, "Fifty lien."

"Wait, what?" Yang frowned, "You’re charging me extra?"

"Cover charge," he replied flatly, "Plus...‘big deals’ get the expedited service fee."

Jaune started to open his wallet, but Yang slapped his hand down and glared at the bouncer, "Expedited service fee my a-"

"Sixty lien," he added, deadpan.

Her eye twitched. She was so tempted to see if the guy had Aura, but she was on a date tonight, "Fine. Whatever." Yang handed over the cash, biting back a string of creative insults. The bouncer pocketed it without a second glance and waved them through. As they stepped inside, Jaune gave her an apologetic smile.

"You didn’t have to do that," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "I would’ve paid for both of us."

"Oh, please," Yang scoffed, "You’re my guest tonight. No way I’m letting you foot the bill."

Strike Two: The Dancefloor Misfire

The club was alive with flashing lights, pounding music, and a crowd of people moving in perfect rhythm to the beat. Yang’s spirits soared as she took it all in. This was her domain. She could handle this. Weiss might have had that snooty charm and P-Money could 

After a quick drink at the bar (Yang ordering something bold, Jaune sticking to soda), she grabbed his hand and led him to the dancefloor.

"C’mon, Arc," she called over the music, "Time to show me what you’ve got."

"I told you, I’m not great at this!" he said, laughing nervously.

"Relax! Just follow my lead."

To Yang’s surprise - and mild annoyance - Jaune wasn’t bad at all. He actually had solid rhythm, moving in sync with the music and drawing the attention of a few nearby dancers. Yang stepped up her game, adding a little extra flair to her moves. She wanted to make sure she was the only one catching his attention tonight. That she was the one on top.

She spun closer to him, her outfit shimmering in the light, and gave him a smirk, "Not bad, Arc. Didn’t know you had moves like this."

"Seven sisters," he replied casually, spinning her back out, "They made me practice for weddings and stuff. Had to learn ballroom, salsa, and a bit of freestyle."

"Ballroom, huh?" Yang teased, leaning in, "Guess I should’ve brought my gown."

Jaune laughed, the sound genuine and warm, but his obliviousness to her flirtation was starting to grate on her nerves. She leaned in closer, her hand brushing his arm, "You’re full of surprises, you know that?"

"Thanks, Yang. You’re a great dancer too!" Her smile faltered at his friendly tone. Seriously?

As the music changed to a slower beat, Yang decided to escalate. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him in closer, "How about we take it down a notch? You can show me some of that ballroom technique."

Jaune blinked, tilting his head in confusion, "I mean...this isn’t really the right tempo for waltzing, is it?"

Yang stared at him, incredulous, "Seriously, Jaune? I’m trying to-"

Before she could finish, a passing waiter tripped over someone’s outstretched foot, sending a tray of drinks flying directly toward her. Even with her Huntress instincts, Yang barely had time to react before she was drenched from head to toe in sticky, fruity cocktails, messing up her hair and making her outfit cling tighter in a non-sexy way.

The music didn’t stop, but the ripple of laughter from the surrounding crowd felt deafening. Jaune immediately stepped forward, pulling off his jacket to offer her, "Are you okay? Here, you can use this to - "

"I’m fine," Yang said through gritted teeth, waving him off.

Strike Three: The Disaster Date

After her impromptu shower, Yang decided to cut her losses. She convinced Jaune to sit with her in a booth near the back of the club, far from prying eyes. She was determined to salvage the night. Sure, the bouncer was a jerk, and the dancefloor had been a bust, but she still had her secret weapon: charisma. She’d charm him with her wit and her undeniable personality. 

And puns. Lots and lots of puns. 

"Thanks for sticking with me," she said, flashing him her trademark grin. Sticking with her? Get it?

"No prob." He laughed, "It’s been fun so far!"

Yang tilted her head, "Even with the drinks incident?"

"Well, yeah." He chuckled, "Stuff happens, right? Honestly, it’s kind of nice to get out and do something different. I don’t usually come to places like this."

"Oh, really?" Yang leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, "What - or who - do you usually do, then?" She fluttered her lashes up at him

Jaune shrugged, the innuendo flying clear over his head, "I dunno. Hang out with the team, watch movies, cook sometimes."

"Cooking, huh?" Yang smirked. The reminder of that feast he made had her stomach grumbling, though the music thankfully drowned it out. Hunger pangs weren’t sexy, "You know, a guy who can cook is pretty rare. Maybe you should make me something special sometime." Her voice was low and teasing.

Jaune grinned, "Sure! I’d love to. I’ve been meaning to try making soufflé. You can be my taste tester!"

Yang blinked, momentarily thrown off, "Uh...yeah. That sounds...great." The oblivious smile on Jaune’s face made it clear he had no idea she was flirting. He genuinely thought she was interested in his cooking experiments. She groaned inwardly.

By the time they left the club, Yang’s confidence had taken a serious hit. Jaune waved goodbye with that same goofy grin, completely blind to the blonde bombshell who wanted his hands all over her grill and her grill.

Yang stood outside the club, sticky, frustrated, and wondering how the hell she was supposed to get through to this guy, "Alright, Arc," she muttered to herself, flicking a stray strand of sticky hair out of her face, "You win this round. But I’m not done yet."

It was time to bring out the Big Guns.

[line break]

Yang sat at her bed, glaring at the small collection of old board games and trading cards she’d dug out from the bottom of her closet. A faint scent of nostalgia clung to them - slightly musty from being buried for years. She picked up a worn Fight Monsters card and turned it over in her hand, suppressing a small smile at the sight of the cartoon Grimm plastered on the front.

"I can’t believe I’m doing this," she muttered under her breath, brushing her hair back. It wasn’t her usual style. She wasn’t the "game night" type anymore. That part of her life was long buried under layers of parties, motorcycles, and bar fights. She was Yang Xiao Long, the coolest chick in Beacon and the nightmares of authority figures everywhere. She wasn’t some...nerd sitting in a corner with a trading card deck.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

If Jaune was too dense to pick up on her usual charm, she’d just switch tactics. The guy loved nerd stuff. Board games, fantasy novels, card games - you name it. Hell, Ruby practically dragged him to every comic store they passed. And if Ruby - her adorable baby sis without a hint of sex appeal - could charm him with their shared interests, then so could Yang.

No one - no one - was taking Jaune’s cooking and magic hands away from her.

So what if she had to tap into her old Signal nerd side to win this battle? It wasn’t something she was proud of. Back in Patch, before she was the golden goddess of Signal, Yang had been that kid - the one who spent hours playing board games, collecting monster cards, and hoarding BnB rulebooks like they were treasure. It wasn’t a life she’d flaunted, but it had been fun. Until she realized her true calling in life, of course.

She glanced at the stack of rulebooks. Critical Chaos. Dungeon Wars. She even found an unopened booster pack for Fight Monsters. Dark memories of times long past came back. Back when she’d been Sevina the Rogue and she’d betrayed her party. Twice. Hey, it was their fault! She was a literal backstabber! It was all part of the roleplay.

Yang sighed, turning over the cards in her hands, "This better be worth it," she muttered.

The next day, Yang found Jaune in the library, quietly flipping through a book on tactics. Or at least, he looked like it. Yang saw the comic book between the pages. She had no idea why he had to try and pretend to look busy and smart. And she didn’t really care, "Hey, Jaune," she said casually, pulling up a chair next to him.

Jaune looked up, smiling, "Hey, Yang. What’s up?"

"Nothing much." She slid a deck of Fight Monsters cards onto the table and raised an eyebrow, "Unless you’re up for a match."

Jaune blinked, then looked at the cards, "Wait...you play Fight Monsters?"

Yang shrugged, acting like it was no big deal, "Used to. Back in Signal. Figured I’d dust off the ol’ deck and see if I’ve still got it. You in?"

Jaune grinned, his eyes lighting up, "Sure! I didn’t know you were into this stuff."

Hooked.

Yang pulled out the board and cards, setting everything up with the confidence of a pro. Which she was. Back in Signal, she was undefeated. Oh, people tried, they really did, but they all fell at her feet. She was the Queen of Cards. Literally, it was a title and everything. She still had it trademarked.

The first round went well enough. Yang played aggressively, but Jaune held his own, countering her moves with a solid defense. She managed to eke out a win in the end, and Jaune clapped for her like a good sport, "That was awesome!" he said, smiling, "You’re really good at this."

Yang smirked, "Told you I was a natural. Ready for round two?"

Jaune nodded, and they shuffled the decks again.

The second round was where things started to unravel, not that she realized it at the time....

Yang’s competitive streak took over, and the playful banter shifted into something sharper. She wasn’t just playing to win anymore: she was playing to crush. Every time Jaune made a move, she countered it ruthlessly, stacking attack cards and combo effects like she was setting fire to his deck. Memories of the bitter, angry tears of her opponents back during her Signal years made her grin. In this field, she was more invincible than Pyrrha in tournaments.

When she won again, she leaned back in her chair, smirking like a villain, "Too easy. C’mon, Arc, I thought you said you were good at this."

Jaune laughed awkwardly, "I’m just warming up."

By the third round, Yang was in full-on hypercompetitive mode. She played every card like it was her last, interrupting Jaune’s moves with increasingly smug commentary, 

"Oh, a defense card? Cute. Too bad I’ve got this. Bam, destroyed. Gonna cry?"

"Another combo? That’s adorable. Here’s a counterattack, plus three more attack points for good measure."

"Really? Are you just giving me your monsters? Well, I’ll take em! And now they’re eating at your life points!

When she won that round, she threw her arms up, grinning like she’d just conquered Remnant, "And that, Jaune, is how you dominate a match! Boo-yah!"

Jaune scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable. Ah, whatever, he just wasn’t used to seeing a Queen in her domain, "You, uh...you’re really into this, huh?"

Yang grinned, completely missing the awkward tone, "What can I say? I don’t do things halfway."

The fourth round was when she crossed the line.

Yang summoned her most powerful monster: The Bloodthirst Goliath. It had more than enough attack points to obliterate Jaune’s remaining defenses and win the match outright. And why wouldn’t it? It was a class S card. Most tournaments even banned it from use, but she said nuts to that! She earned this card! She spent weeks of allowance on those card bundles! It was gacha before gacha.

One direct hit, and it was over...but why stop there? "Oh, man," Yang grinned, placing a buff card on Goliath, "Boosts his attack by ten. That’s not bad."

Jaune blinked, "Uh...you already have enough points to-"

"And I’m activating Overdrive Frenzy." Yang slapped another card down, smirking as Jaune watched his defenses crumble, "Doubles his attack. Ooooh, and if I chain Grimm Instinct to it, I can stack another ten points on top."

"Yang, you don’t-"

"Oh, don’t forget Savage Howl! Adds three more attack points per defense card on your side." She cackled, stacking more cards on her already stacked deck.

"Yang, you can just - "

"AND," she said dramatically, dropping her final card with a flourish, "I’ll trigger Devour, which wipes out half your deck and gives Goliath another five-point boost for every card sent to the graveyard. That brings him up to - let’s see - sixty-two attack points!"

Jaune stared at the board. His last monster barely had three. It was overkill in the best way. Yang leaned back, smirking, "Alright, time for Goliath to attack and- oh, wait." She fanned herself dramatically, "Would you look at that? I almost forgot to activate Final Roar. Adds one last strike after the main attack. Just in case you had anything left to defend yourself."

Jaune blinked slowly, staring at the mountain of cards she’d stacked over the course of three glorious minutes. He put his cards down and stood up, "That was fun, Yang," he said, forcing a smile. Wait, why was he forcing it?! "But I think I’m good for today. I just remembered Pyrrha wanted to spar."

Yang laughed awkwardly, suddenly feeling like she screwed up somewhere, "Aw, c’mon! Don’t be a sore loser, Arc. We can go one more round. I’ll even go easy on you!"

Jaune grabbed his deck, waving it dismissively, "Nah, you won fair and square. I’ll catch you later."

Yang watched him leave, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She sat there for a moment, arms crossed, before glancing at the board and the sixty-two attack point monster towering over Jaune’s obliterated field, Her smirk faded.

"...Oh."

Yeah.

She might have gone overboard.

[line break]

The soft hum of Beacon’s dorm lights flickered overhead as Ren sat cross-legged on the floor, the large, glossy brochure for the Vale Hot Springs Resort spread neatly in front of him. His calm, calculating gaze traced the scenic images of steaming baths and lush mountain backdrops, pausing on a section advertising private open-air spas. Beside him, Nora lounged lazily, her chin propped on her hands as she kicked her legs back and forth, humming softly. The brochure was clearly Ren’s project, but Nora had long since decided that whatever plan he was cooking up, she was absolutely on board.

"Ooooh, look at this one!" Nora grinned, pointing at an image of a luxurious spring overlooking a lake, "Full spa treatment, mountain views, and all-you-can-eat snacks. This one’s got Jaune written all over it. Bet he’d melt like butter in those baths."

Ren nodded thoughtfully, flipping the page with quiet precision, "That’s the idea. A little relaxation away from Beacon, somewhere quiet where we can unwind...and maybe bond a little more than usual."

Nora elbowed him lightly, wiggling her eyebrows, "Ohhh, bonding, huh? You’re really leaning into this seduction plan."

Across the room, Pyrrha sat perched stiffly on the couch, hands clasped together in front of her. Her expression had gone from politely concerned to outright scandalized as she listened to their conversation unfold. After several more minutes of hushed planning, she finally leaned forward, unable to hold it in any longer, "Ren," Pyrrha said carefully, her tone hovering somewhere between disbelief and restraint, "don’t you think this is a little...excessive?" She forced a tight smile, as if trying to appear more reasonable than she felt, "I mean, inviting Jaune to a hot spring just the three of you? That feels a bit much, don’t you think?"

Ren didn’t even look up from the brochure, casually circling another package with a red pen, "I disagree. Jaune works hard. He deserves to relax. This is for his benefit."

Pyrrha’s eyes narrowed, her polite façade starting to fray at the edges. Every lesson she’d ever had about staying polite and respectful was steadily beginning to fall to the wayside, "If this is really about Jaune’s wellbeing, then why are you so intent on making this such a big thing? Why not invite myself and team RWBY too?" She didn’t like the idea of them being near Jaune, but at least if they were all there then they wouldn’t make any progress.

At this, Ren’s gaze finally lifted to meet hers, calm but sharp, like he had been waiting for her to say exactly that, "Because this isn’t about Jaune," he replied simply, "It’s about you."

Pyrrha blinked, visibly thrown off, "What...What do you mean by that?"

Ren’s tone didn’t shift, remaining as measured and even as ever. She hated it, "For all your talk about doing what’s best for Jaune, you’re really just trying to keep him for yourself. You’re not worried about the trip being excessive. You’re worried we might actually get closer to him before you do."

Pyrrha straightened defensively, her cheeks flushing faintly, "That’s not- I mean, I just- I don’t think manipulating him into a hot spring getaway is the right way to- "

Nora cackled from her spot on the floor, cutting Pyrrha off mid-sentence, "Oh, come on, Pyr! At least Ren’s doing something about it. You’ve been sitting on those gooey feelings for a year now, waiting for him to magically figure it out."

Pyrrha opened her mouth to protest, but Ren spoke up again before she could, "She’s right," he said plainly, flipping to another page in the brochure, "You’ve had plenty of opportunities, Pyrrha. And yet here we are."

"I-I’m just waiting for the right moment," Pyrrha stammered, her voice raising slightly as she tried to defend herself. It wasn’t her fault! She just…wanted to ensure that she didn’t ruin her relationship with him by confessing prematurely! Imagine having to partner with him for the next four years if he said no?! "Jaune isn’t...ready. I don’t want to rush him into anything."

Ren’s expression remained unreadable, though his lips twitched ever so slightly, "Jaune isn’t the one who’s not ready," he replied smoothly.

Nora let out an exaggerated gasp, leaning dramatically onto Ren’s shoulder, "Oooh, he got you good."

Pyrrha groaned, sinking back into the couch and burying her face in her hands. She peeked through her fingers a moment later, shooting Ren a half-hearted glare, "I can’t believe you’re doing this. I thought you were supposed to be the calm, rational one!"

"I am calm and rational," Ren replied, his voice almost too serene, "That’s why I’m planning ahead. I prefer not to sit around hoping things will work out on their own." The subtle judgement in his words made her flinch. Pyrrha had always been headstrong and aggressive in the arena, never afraid to take risks, but outside of it? That was a completely different story.

Nora, still practically buzzing beside him, nudged the brochure closer to Pyrrha with a wide grin, "You could always come with us, you know. But, uh, you might need to book your own private spring. No offense, but Ren and I have plans."

Pyrrha groaned louder, dragging her hands down her face in frustration, "You’re not helping."

"I’m not trying to," Nora chirped, "Look, I’m not really in this to seduce Jaune or anything. But Ren’s all serious about it, and if he’s going, then I’m going too. Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t crash our romantic getaway."

Pyrrha’s head shot up, her expression desperate, "It is not a romantic getaway!"

Ren calmly circled yet another section of the brochure, his gaze never wavering, "That depends entirely on Jaune."

"Ren," Pyrrha said, leaning forward again with pleading eyes, "you can’t honestly think this is the best way to win Jaune over. He’s not...that kind of person." And did he even like men? The only one he showed attraction to was Weiss all those months back…though, Weiss certainly had the chest of a man.

Pyrrha flinched at the sudden, nasty thought. Gods, his massages and cooking were making monsters of them all. 

Ren finally looked at her, tilting his head slightly, "Pyrrha," he said quietly, his expression the epitome of calm understanding, "You snooze, you lose."

Nora pointed at Pyrrha with both hands, nodding enthusiastically, "Yup. What he said. Better luck next time, Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha’s shoulders sagged as she stared at the two of them, looking more like a parent dealing with unruly children than the proud Champion of Mistral. She pressed her palms against her temples, as if physically holding in the rising panic, "This isn’t happening," she muttered under her breath, "I’m going to wake up, and this will all be a strange dream."

"Oh, it’s happening," Nora sing-songed, plucking the brochure from Ren’s lap and waving it in front of Pyrrha’s face, "You can come to terms with it now, or you can spend the weekend wondering what we’re doing with Jaune in a cozy little mountain lodge."

"Nora, please, there’s no need to brag. It’s unseemly."

"Right! Sorry, Ren!"

Pyrrha let out a long, exasperated sigh and slumped deeper into the couch, "I hate you both," she mumbled.

Ren returned to his brochure, unbothered, "I’ll take that as a no on sharing the spring."

[line break]

Question:

1. Any suggestions for Blake? She was supposed to show up this chapter, but I’m pretty mixed on her plan. Originally, she was just gonna go full Catgirl then call Jaune racist when he wasn’t into it, but I think that might be lame. Any other ideas you guys have? I’m open to anything since she’s the one I have the vaguest idea on.

Belladonna Brawl - Chapter 3

Been on an anime binge lately so I got inspired to update my harem fic. Again. Poor Jaune. Poor Blake too.

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Jaune stumbled into the fruit grove with the kind of relief usually reserved for lost travelers finding an oasis in the middle of a desert. The vibrant, colorful trees stretched up toward the sky, their branches heavy with fruit that looked so fresh and juicy he could practically hear his stomach screaming, Finally! He gulped and trudged those last few steps, every single one feeling wet and heavy. Brothers, what he wouldn't give for a change of clothes.

He slumped against the nearest trunk, catching his breath, "Okay...okay, I can do this," he muttered, glancing around to make sure he wasn't about to be ambushed by any other contestants. It looked clear. No crazy sword guys, no Dust-fueled explosions, and no screaming declarations of love for Blake or her, ugh, booty.

Just trees, sunlight, and sweet, blessed food.

Jaune wiped his forehead and began scanning the area. His years of camping with his family - seven sisters could turn any outdoor trip into a logistical nightmare - were finally about to pay off. He'd gathered plenty of supplies before on family trips. This was just...like that. Only with fewer campfires and more people trying to kill him.

Spotting a cluster of low-hanging fruit, Jaune reached up and plucked a large orange-like fruit from the branch. He inspected it carefully, turning it over in his hands. It didn't smell weird, no strange discoloration, no ominous drips. Good enough. He took a tentative bite, and his taste buds practically sang. Sweet, tangy juice burst across his tongue, and he let out a muffled groan of satisfaction, "Oh, man, that's good..."

For a moment, Jaune forgot all about the insane competition. He forgot about Blake, the mysterious voice guiding him, and even the guy who'd tried to chop him in half earlier. All that mattered was the glorious taste of food after what felt like days of starvation. Yes, he knew he had dinner just last night, but he'd spent the morning being chased by psychotic simps! That tended to work up an appetite!

He devoured the fruit in record time, tossing the pit aside before grabbing another one. Then another. Before long, Jaune had a small pile of discarded peels and pits around him, and his energy was finally starting to return, "Alright," he said, dusting off his hands on his pants without caring how messy it looked, "Step one: don't starve to death. Done."

Next came the important part: stocking up. He couldn't just sit here stuffing his face all day, as tempting as that was. He needed to gather as much as he could carry. If he could make a small stash and keep moving, he might actually stand a chance of surviving this madness. Jaune looked around for something to use as a makeshift bag. He remembered a trick his dad had taught him about weaving branches and vines into a simple basket. With some effort, he snapped off a few sturdy branches, stripped the leaves, and set to work.

"Okay, Jaune," he muttered to himself as he twisted the vines around the branches, "You survived getting thrown out of a bullhead. You survived two eliminations by accident. You can survive this." It wasn't exactly the most comforting pep talk, but it got the job done. After a few minutes of fumbling, he had something that vaguely resembled a basket. It wasn't pretty, but it would hold fruit and any other light supplies he could forage.

He started loading up, grabbing as much as he could while still leaving room for his scroll, Crocea Mors, and whatever other supplies he might come across later. By the time he was done, his basket was nearly overflowing. Jaune stepped back, admiring his work, "Not bad," he said, giving the basket a little shake to make sure it wouldn't fall apart. It held, "Guess those family camping trips weren't a total waste after all."

The thought made him smile faintly. His sisters would've been proud, and probably impressed he hadn't gotten himself disqualified yet. Or they would've died from secondchancringe.

"Alright," Jaune said, slinging the basket over his shoulder, "Now to find somewhere safe to-" A distant crack echoed through the grove. Jaune froze, his heart skipping a beat. His eyes darted toward the sound, and he caught the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, "...Oh no." With a burst of adrenaline, Jaune ducked behind the nearest tree, clutching the basket tightly, "Great. Step two: don't get your face caved in. Still working on that one."

He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart. Whatever it was, he'd survive. He had to. This stupid competition wasn't going to beat him. Not when he was finally starting to get the hang of things.

All he had to do was keep moving. Keep surviving. One step at a time.

Jaune didn't get far from the grove before his scroll buzzed in his pocket, the sharp vibration nearly making him jump out of his skin. His nerves were already on edge, and for a brief second, he thought it was Blake's mysterious voice again, ready to feed him more cryptic survival tips. But when he fumbled to pull the scroll out, his heart soared with relief. Pyrrha's name glowed brightly across the screen. Pyrrha. His partner and one of the few bright spots in Beacon.

"Oh thank the Brothers," Jaune breathed, thumbing the answer button before practically slamming the scroll against his ear, "Pyrrha! Pyrrha, oh man, I am so glad to hear from you! You would not believe the day I'm having." There was silence on the other end. No cheerful greeting. No relieved "Jaune!" like he expected. Just soft, shaky breathing. Jaune blinked, slowing his pace, "...Pyrrha?"

"Jaune," her voice finally crackled through, but it was barely above a whisper, and - was she crying? His brows furrowed as he stopped walking entirely, glancing around the grove nervously like she might somehow be standing nearby,

"Pyrrha? Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" Jaune's tone shifted immediately, concern flooding his voice.

"Jaune...do you-" Pyrrha's voice wavered, and she took a trembling breath before pushing the words out, "Do you love Blake?"

Jaune's brain flatlined, "...Huh?" His free hand hovered awkwardly in the air as he processed the question, like she'd just asked him something in a completely different language, "Wait, what?"

Pyrrha sniffled faintly, and Jaune swore he heard the tiniest hitch in her breath, "Is it true? That's why you entered, isn't it?"

"What?! No, no - wait! Hold on a second! Who told you that? I don't love Blake!" Jaune flailed so hard in protest that he nearly dropped his scroll into the dirt, "I signed up by accident! I didn't even know what this was until I was already falling out of the sky!"

Another silence followed. Jaune's heart pounded uncomfortably as he waited, listening to the soft, unsteady sound of Pyrrha's breathing.

"...You're not lying?" she finally asked, her voice so soft it almost didn't register.

"I swear on Crocea Mors. I didn't sign up because of Blake," Jaune said, his tone as serious as he could muster, "I wouldn't do that, Pyrrha. I barely talk to Blake. She probably thinks my name is 'That Guy With The Hoodie.'"

He heard a faint, shaky laugh on the other end. It was brief, but enough to make Jaune's shoulders relax a little. Pyrrha sniffed again, but she sounded more stable this time, "I'm sorry. I just...I heard everyone talking, and Weiss said you were on the list, and..." She trailed off, and Jaune could picture her biting her lip nervously, her fingers probably fiddling with the hem of her sash.

Jaune let out a breath, running his hand through his hair as he paced slowly beneath the shade of the trees, "It's fine. Honestly, I get it. This whole thing's insane. But Pyrrha, seriously - help me."

Pyrrha paused, and when she spoke again, there was a hint of confusion, "...Help you?"

"Yes! Please! I am begging you, Pyrrha, keep me from dying! Everyone here is insane! I got attacked twice today! There's this guy - huge sword, crazy eyes - he tried to cleave me in half because he thought I was after the 'Bellabooty!' I can't keep doing this!"

"Bellaboo- " Pyrrha cut herself off with a sigh, and Jaune could practically hear the secondhand embarrassment radiating through the call.

"I'm serious!" Jaune pleaded, "You're like, the best fighter I know! You've gotta have some advice or something! I can't keep surviving by accident forever!"

There was a long pause, but this time it wasn't heavy or tense. Pyrrha seemed to be weighing her options, the soft hum of thought practically audible through the scroll. Finally, she answered, "...Alright. I'll help you."

Jaune's knees almost buckled with relief, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you so much for this!"

Pyrrha's voice softened, the faint warmth returning to her tone, "Just stay safe, Jaune. I'll do what I can."

Jaune nodded even though she couldn't see it, "I will. I promise." As the call ended, Jaune let out a long breath and leaned against a tree, clutching his scroll to his chest like a lifeline. Pyrrha was on his side. If anyone could help him survive this insane competition, it was her.

Now all he had to do was avoid getting ambushed for the next twenty-four hours.

Piece of cake...right?

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The moment Jaune heard the boom from above, he thought the entire sky was falling. With a burst of wind and a flash of red, Pyrrha Nikos descended from the heavens like a meteor, landing in front of him with enough force to leave a small crater in the dirt. Her long hair fluttered dramatically behind her as she rose to her full height, spear twirling in her hand as if she was ready to take on the entire island single-handedly.

Jaune gawked, "P-Pyrrha?!"

She didn't look at him immediately, eyes narrowing as she scanned the surrounding grove, "I'm here to protect you, Jaune." Her voice carried that same calm confidence he'd come to know, "Rules be damned. I'm not letting anyone touch you."

Jaune's heart swelled with relief, "Oh man, this is great! I- wait." He squinted at her, "How did you even get here?!"

Pyrrha glanced away sheepishly, "Weiss may have left a few airships unattended. And it's not like there are any air defenses around the island. After all, they didn't think of the possibility of anyone wanting to leave until they claimed Blake's heart."

"...You hijacked an airship?"

"I borrowed it," Pyrrha corrected with the tiniest of smiles.

Before Jaune could respond, the underbrush rustled ominously. His stomach dropped, "Oh no." Emerging from the trees was him. The same greatsword-wielding lunatic from earlier, his eyes blazing with unholy fervor and his weapon resting casually on his shoulder like he hadn't just tried to bisect Jaune two hours ago.

"There you are," the swordsman grinned, pointing his blade at Jaune, "Thought you could run, huh?"

Jaune took an involuntary step back, "Uh...Pyrrha?"

"I see him." Pyrrha stepped between them, planting her feet firmly. Her spear gleamed in the sunlight, and she pointed it straight at the man with unwavering resolve, "I won't let you hurt Jaune."

The swordsman's eyes flicked to Pyrrha and stayed there for all of two seconds before he snorted, "You're not on the list. I'd remember you."

"That doesn't matter." Pyrrha raised her shield, a (metaphorical, not literal) golden Aura faintly shimmering around her, "Jaune's my bo- uh, friend. My partner. If you want him, you'll have to go through me first."

The swordsman's brow twitched upward, "Sure. Whatever." Jaune exhaled slowly, bracing himself behind Pyrrha. He'd seen her in action plenty of times. She was practically invincible. Hell, she was literally called the Invincible Girl! If anyone could take down this maniac, it was-

The swordsman lunged forward. Pyrrha stepped in to block, shield raised.

And then she was sent flying like a ragdoll, tumbling head over heels through the air. She crashed somewhere deep in the grove with a faint crunch of leaves and branches, and Jaune was left staring at the space she previously occupied, jaw hanging open.

The swordsman blinked at his own sword, visibly confused at how easy it was.

Jaune barely had time to process before the tinny voice of Professor Port crackled to life over his scroll.

"Oh dear! It seems the intruder, Ms. Nikos, has been eliminated immediately! That was fast!"

Doctor Oobleck chimed in, his voice as rapid-fire as ever, "Yes, yes! Quite fascinating! Let's not forget, ladies and gentlemen, that this competition's power scaling directly correlates to one's romantic attraction to Blake Belladonna. As Ms. Nikos entered the contest illegally and has no discernible attraction to Miss Belladonna, she possesses the combat strength of a wet paper towel!"

"A wet paper towel," Port repeated dramatically, "Or perhaps a sleepy kitten!"

Jaune froze, scroll limp in his hand, "...Excuse me?"

The swordsman let out a low chuckle, leveling his blade once more, "Looks like your bodyguard didn't get the memo."

Jaune swallowed, "Hold on. You're telling me Pyrrha, Mistral Champion Pyrrha, just got swatted like a bug because she's not into Blake?!"

"Oh, absolutely!" Oobleck answered enthusiastically, as if this was perfectly normal. Did he hear him?! "And in fact, the greater the feelings for Miss Belladonna, the more exponentially powerful one becomes! You could say this tournament is a direct reflection of the heart!"

"Yes, yes!" Port agreed, his deep laughter echoing faintly, "A contest of love, strength, and perhaps questionable life choices!"

Jaune paled. The swordsman smirked, "I knew my devotion would be rewarded!"

Jaune groaned, "Oh come on!" The man lunged again, but Jaune - desperate and panicked - swung his makeshift fruit basket like a club, slamming it straight into the swordsman's gut.

To his complete shock, the man actually stumbled, "Wait...what?" Jaune blinked at his own basket, confused.

Port's voice crackled through once more, slightly amused, "Oh! It seems Mr. Arc still holds a significant amount of Aura! Perhaps his survival instincts are stronger than his romantic interests, or perhaps he's simply...well, sturdy."

"Sturdy indeed!" Oobleck added, as if this was an official analysis, "Or perhaps he has feelings for Ms. Belladonna despite his claims to the contrary? What did the Mistralian's call it? Tsundere?"

The swordsman glared at Jaune, visibly annoyed, "You do have feelings for her!" He snarled.

"I don't!" Jaune yelped, already sprinting away, "I just don't wanna get killed!" As he fled, he kept a cautious eye on the grove where Pyrrha had disappeared, "Pyrrha! You okay over there?!"

A weak, far-off voice answered, "I'm fine...but Jaune...I think I might stay down for a bit. S-Sorry~"

Jaune grimaced, "Yeah...yeah, I don't blame you."And with that, he disappeared deeper into the jungle, hoping that somehow, somehow, he could survive this madness without accidentally triggering the full force of someone else's Blake obsession.

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Jaune didn't stop running, "Sorry, Pyrrha! I'm really, really sorry!" he yelled over his shoulder, weaving frantically between the trees as if sheer zigzagging would somehow make him harder to hit, "I'll-I'll come back for you later! Probably! Just...stay down and don't move!"

A faint, exhausted "Okay..." echoed somewhere far behind him, and Jaune winced.

'Good job, Jaune. You let your best friend take a hit for you, and now she's somewhere in a bush with a broken Aura and questionable life choices.' His legs burned, lungs screaming for air, but he didn't stop. Not with that guy still stalking through the jungle behind him, like some kind of relentless Bellabooty Terminator.

His scroll buzzed mid-sprint, and Jaune fumbled to answer it without tripping over his own feet, "You can't keep running," the voice said, smooth and calm like it wasn't suggesting complete insanity, "If you don't eliminate him now, you'll never stand a chance against the stronger contestants. Yang and Adam will crush you."

Jaune's eye twitched, "Oh really?" he snapped, dodging around another tree, "Wow, thanks for the hot tip, mysterious jungle voice! I hadn't figured that out yet! You know what else I figured out? I can't eliminate him! I'm not Pyrrha! I can't just drop a guy in three hits!"

"Pyrrha tried. Look where that got her."

Jaune nearly tripped, "Th-That's not fair! She only lost because of your weird power scaling!"

"She fought someone who thinks Blake's the goddess of his dreams," the voice replied dryly, every word dripping with contempt, "Of course she lost. He practically doubled his strength the second he thought about her cat ears."

Jaune groaned, mentally filing that entire sentence under 'things he would never, ever repeat out loud, "I barely survived him!" Jaune hissed, ducking behind a thick tree trunk to catch his breath, "I'm not a champion fighter! I don't even like Blake that way! You said that was supposed to be my advantage!"

"It is," the voice answered smoothly, "But that doesn't mean you can avoid everyone forever. You need to start...removing people, Jaune. Consider it...survival by process of elimination."

Jaune slumped against the tree, running a hand down his face, "You're crazy. You know that, right?"

A faint pause lingered before the voice replied with what Jaune swore was a trace of amusement, "Maybe. But I'm also right."

Jaune growled under his breath, shutting his scroll with more force than necessary and stuffing it back into his pocket, "Yeah, well...we'll see about that," he muttered, tugging his basket higher on his shoulder, "Process of elimination, my ass. I'm not built for this!" But even as he said it, Jaune couldn't shake the feeling that the voice was right.

And that terrified him more than the guy with the sword.

Jaune's scroll buzzed again, and he nearly threw it into the nearest bush out of sheer frustration, "No," he growled, answering it while still sprinting, "No, I'm not listening to you right now. You're crazy. You're so crazy."

"You're not going to survive if you keep running," the voice said calmly, as if Jaune wasn't one errant branch away from eating dirt, "Your opponent is faster, stronger, and - thanks to his obsession with Blake - practically unstoppable in a head-on fight. You need to lean into your strengths."

"What strengths?!" Jaune shouted, ducking under a low-hanging branch and nearly losing his basket in the process, "I'm the worst fighter at Beacon!"

"Exactly," the voice replied, utterly unfazed, "So stop trying to fight him like you're a swordsman. You're not Pyrrha. You're Jaune Arc. Think like Jaune Arc."

Jaune ground to a halt, skidding across the dirt and spinning around to lean against a tree, "Okay, fine. Enlighten me, oh wise jungle voice. What exactly does Jaune Arc do in a tournament like this?"

"You're resourceful. Set traps. Disarm him somehow. Slow him down. You don't need to overpower him; you just need to outthink him."

Jaune blinked, caught off guard, "...That's actually not a bad idea."

"I know."

"But you're still crazy," Jaune added, shaking his head.

"Fair," the voice deadpanned, "One more thing, though."

Jaune groaned, "Oh no. Here it comes. What now?"

"You might want to...reconsider your feelings for Blake."

Jaune froze, his brain grinding to a screeching halt, "...What?"

"Just a little," the voice continued, as if this was the most normal suggestion in the world, "Not enough to fall in love with her, obviously. The last thing she needs is another crazy admirer. But even a tiny increase in physical attraction will boost your power level. It's simple tournament mechanics."

Jaune stared at the scroll in disbelief, his hand twitching as he debated whether he should just hang up and deal with the sword guy on his own, "You're telling me," he said slowly, as if testing the words, "To think about how attractive Blake is so I don't die?"

"Yes."

"This is so dumb!" Jaune yelled, throwing his free hand into the air.

"It is. Dumber than anything on Remnant," the voice agreed flatly, "So win. For both your sake and Blake's. Now think about her cat ears, Arc."

Jaune slapped his hand over his face, dragging it down as he let out a frustrated groan, "This...this is the stupidest tournament ever!"

"Agreed. Now focus."

Jaune groaned again, but against his better judgment, he closed his eyes for half a second. His mind wandered to Blake - her ears twitching as she read in the library, the way they perked up when Yang told a particularly bad pun. He even thought about the small smiles she gave when she tried to hide how amused she was.

He shook his head furiously, as if the thoughts physically burned, "Nope. Nope. Not doing this. This is too weird. Find someone else to think about her ears!" Blake was attractive, he wasn't denying that, but thinking about someone he exchanged maybe three words with. And yes, Weiss was different, thank you very much!

"If you want to live, Arc, you'll think about those ears and set some traps."

Jaune groaned louder, dragging his basket off his shoulder and fumbling to find anything remotely useful in the clearing around him, "I hate this. I hate this."

"Good," the voice said smoothly, "Use that hatred. Channel it into survival. Hatred will give you power. And think about the ears."

"I'm going to lose my mind," Jaune muttered under his breath, grabbing a handful of vines and snapping off a sturdy branch, "But fine. You want traps? I'll give you traps. You want me to think about cat ears? Whatever. Just tell me how to not die, and I'll deal with the existential crisis later."

"That's the spirit," the voice replied, almost sounding pleased.

Minutes later, Jaune was crouched low to the ground, vines wrapped tightly in his hands as he inspected his hastily constructed snare. The plan was simple, if not a little ridiculous: trap the simp, blind him with mashed fruit, disarm him, and then go full piñata on him with Crocea Mors.

Sure, it wasn't the most elegant plan. But Jaune wasn't here to win style points: he was here to not die.

He tugged on the vine, testing the tension in his snare. It was tied between two sturdy trees, hidden beneath a thin layer of leaves and dirt. If the simp stepped on it, the trap would yank him upside down and dangle him like a particularly angry fish, "Alright," Jaune muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow as he moved to the second part of his genius strategy. A pile of ripe, overripe, and downright mushy fruits sat in a precarious basket above the snare. He had rigged another vine to a nearby branch. If - when - the simp triggered the snare, the fruit basket would tip, and a cascade of mashed fruit would rain down on his face.

Jaune stood back to admire his work, hands on his hips, "Perfect," he said, though the word felt a little strong for what he was looking at, "It's dumb. But it'll work. Probably."

He pulled Crocea Mors from his sheath, the blade gleaming in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. His hands gripped the hilt tightly as he took a deep breath, staring at his reflection in the blade, "I killed an Ursa Major with this sword," he told himself, his voice low and serious, "I can take down one simp. I can do this. It's just one guy."

The forest remained eerily quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze. Jaune's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the sweat dripping down his neck as he crouched behind a tree, gripping his sword and watching the path leading to the trap.

Any second now.

A few minutes later, he heard it: heavy footsteps crunching through the underbrush, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of a massive blade dragging lazily along the ground.

The simp.

Jaune ducked lower, holding his breath as the footsteps drew closer. His heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline spiking as he peeked around the tree. There he was - the same wild-eyed, sword-wielding lunatic who'd chased him all day. The guy looked like he was still grumbling about 'Bellabooty', Jaune clenched his teeth, "Please, please, please step into the trap..." he whispered under his breath, his grip tightening on Crocea Mors.

The simp's foot came down on the snare.

Snap!

The vine shot up, yanking the man off the ground and flipping him upside down.

"WHOA!" the simp yelled, flailing as he dangled from the tree like a human Christmas ornament.

Jaune's trap worked! It fucking worked!

The vine holding the fruit basket tugged just as Jaune planned, tipping the basket and sending its messy contents flying. A cascade of mashed fruit and sticky juices rained down on the dangling simp, splattering across his face, chest, and hair in a truly impressive display of natural ammunition.

"What the-?!" the simp sputtered, twisting and turning as fruit juice dripped into his eyes, temporarily blinding him, "What is this?!"

"Victory!" Jaune shouted, jumping out from his hiding spot with Crocea Mors raised high. The simp flailed harder, his slippery, fruit-covered hands losing their grip on his massive sword. The weapon clattered to the ground, embedding itself halfway into the dirt.

Jaune grinned triumphantly. Step one: complete.

He charged forward, swinging Crocea Mors like a man possessed, "I killed an Ursa Major with this sword! You think I can't take down a simp?!" It wasn't the most inspiring battle cry, but he felt empowered all the same. Down to simphood!

The first strike hit the man's side, and he howled in protest, still flailing uselessly in the trap. The second strike caught him in the leg, and the third...well, Jaune wasn't really aiming at this point. He just kept swinging, each hit fueled by a mix of adrenaline, desperation, and sheer, unrelenting spite. He didn't know how many times he swung. Dozens? Hundreds?! Okay, maybe not hundreds, but it sure as heck felt like it! THWACK!

"Ow! Stop! Hey! What is this?" the man yelled, his Aura flickering wildly as Jaune hammered away like he was breaking open the world's weirdest piñata.

"I'm not dying today!" Jaune roared, his sword coming down one last time with a satisfying crack as the man's Aura finally shattered.

The simp went limp, groaning as he dangled in the trap. Jaune stood over him, panting heavily, Crocea Mors trembling in his grip, "Step two: don't get my face caved in. Done," he gasped, wiping blood (read: fruit juice) off his forehead.

Port's booming voice echoed from Jaune's scroll, startling him, "AND THAT'S ANOTHER ELIMINATION, FOLKS! CONTESTANT NUMBER 50, JAUNE ARC, CLAIMS VICTORY WITH A MOST...UNCONVENTIONAL TACTIC!"

Jaune blinked, looking at the destroyed trap and the fruit-splattered mess of his opponent. Unconventional was a nice way to put it.

Oobleck's rapid voice chimed in, "Indeed! A clever use of his surroundings and a strong finishing blow! It seems our underdog is growing bolder by the minute!"

Jaune stared at the scroll, still catching his breath. Bolder, he thought. No, that was pure, dumb luck.

Jaune stood over his fallen (or rather, hanging) opponent, panting heavily as adrenaline surged through his veins. His arms felt like jelly from the relentless swinging of Crocea Mors, but he didn't care. He'd done it. He'd actually done it.

The guy was out cold, dangling upside down in the snare, his massive sword buried in the dirt a few feet away. His Aura was gone. Jaune stared at him for a moment, taking in the sheer ridiculousness of the scene: mashed fruit dripping from the guy's face, his limp body swaying like a very sad piñata.

A slow grin spread across Jaune's face. Then, throwing his head back, he let out the loudest, most triumphant scream he could muster, "YEEEAAAHHH! I AM THE CHAMPION!" It wasn't pretty. It wasn't dignified. It was primal, barbaric, and utterly ridiculous. He beat his chest with one hand, still clutching his sword in the other, and let out another guttural roar, "TAKE THAT, SIMP! WHO'S THE KING NOW, HUH?! ME! JAUNE ARRRCCC!"

The dangling man didn't respond - probably because he was unconscious - but that didn't stop Jaune from basking in his victory. For once, he'd been the one to come out on top. He wasn't a klutz or a fluke this time. He'd set a trap, executed a plan, and won!

"WHO'S THE MAN?! I AM! WHO'S NOT DEAD?! ALSO ME! I JUST WRECKED YOU WITH FRUIT! THAT'S RIGHT!" He jabbed a finger at the dangling guy, who was too unconscious to notice. Not that Jaune cared, "I bet you thought you had me, huh?! Oh no! Not today! That's right! Tell your Bellabooty or whatever that Jaune Arc - yeah, this guy - survived another round!" Jaune wasn't done. He planted a foot on the base of the tree dramatically, holding Crocea Mors like it was a battle trophy, "I-I'm the Ursa Major slayer! And now? I'm the Simp Slayer!"

This was his moment.

"Do you...need a minute?" The voice in his scroll interrupted his triumph like a bucket of cold water to the face. Jaune froze mid-roar, his arms still raised in victory. He blinked, realizing how utterly ridiculous he must've looked, standing over a hanging fruit-smeared opponent and screaming like a lunatic. Slowly, he lowered his arms, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"I, uh...no. I'm good. Totally good," he mumbled, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, "Just...celebrating."

"Clearly," the voice replied dryly.

Jaune groaned, glancing at his fallen opponent again, "I mean, come on! I just took out a guy twice my size! I deserve at least a little celebrating."

"Mm-hmm," the voice said, unimpressed, "You do realize that was loud enough to alert everyone within a mile, right?"

Jaune froze again, his stomach dropping, "...Wait. What?"

"I said," the voice repeated, slightly sharper now, "You just turned your location into a neon sign. Congratulations."

The words barely had time to sink in before Jaune heard it: the crunch of footsteps through the jungle, accompanied by faint voices.

"Hey, what was that?!"

"Sounded like someone yelling!"

"Let's check it out!"

Jaune's heart stopped. His hands tightened around Crocea Mors as he whipped his head toward the sound of approaching chaos.

"Oh no," he whispered, glancing back at the dangling simp, who was still blissfully unconscious, "Oh no, no, no, no!"

"You might want to start running again," the voice suggested, dryer than the Vacuo desert, "Or, you know, prepare another genius trap. Your call."

Jaune didn't have time to argue. With a panicked yelp, he slung his basket over his shoulder, grabbed Crocea Mors, and bolted back into the jungle, cursing under his breath, "Why did I scream?!" he muttered furiously, "Why am I so stupid?!"

The voice chimed in once more, utterly calm, "That's an excellent question, Arc. Now run."

"Why are they working together?!" Jaune screamed.

"Allies of convenience. They'll turn against each other if they manage to make it to the finals. Less screaming, more running."

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Back aboard the airship, Blake leaned back in her oversized leather chair, her golden eyes glued to the screens displaying the chaos unfolding below. On one, Jaune was stumbling and flailing his way through the jungle after another narrow escape, muttering curses and tripping over roots. On another, Yang was bulldozing through a group of contestants, her Ember Celica roaring with explosive power.

And then there was Adam.

Blake's gaze lingered on his screen for a moment too long, her lips pressing into a thin line. He moved with terrifying precision, cutting down his opponents with practiced ease, his blade carving arcs of deadly red through the air. He was efficient, relentless, and worst of all, unshaken. His face bore no traces of the fanaticism that seemed to infect so many of the others. For Adam, this wasn't a game. It was a statement.

Blake sighed, pulling her eyes away from the screen and focusing on her plate. The tuna was as fancy as she'd expected - soft, flaky, perfectly seasoned. She didn't particularly enjoy the idea of being Weiss' 'guest' in this ridiculous spectacle, but if she was going to be dragged along, she was going to make the most of it. And that meant fancy tuna.

Her fork clinked softly against the plate as she rested her elbow on the armrest, rubbing her temple with her free hand. This whole situation was so absurd it almost hurt to think about. She was Blake Belladonna, a quiet, reserved girl who just wanted to read her books in peace and maybe, maybe enjoy a decent conversation with her teammates once in a while. Instead, here she was, the unwilling prize in a battle royale that was rapidly descending into chaos.

And her only hope of ending this madness without someone like Yang or - she shuddered - Adam "winning" her heart was Jaune Arc.

Jaune. The guy who could barely hold his sword straight.

Blake stabbed another bite of tuna, cat ears twitching in irritation. She didn't want to put her faith in someone so utterly unremarkable, but he was the only contestant who wasn't actively obsessed with her. That made him the least threatening option.

She had nothing against him, really. He was kind, if awkward, and far too naïve for his own good. But he wasn't exactly the image of reliability. The fact that he'd survived this long was a miracle in itself. Two of eliminations had come from accidents. Accidents and having more Aura than his entire team put together.

Still, her confidence in him was...limited.

Her eyes flicked back to Jaune's screen, where he was stumbling through a clearing, hastily setting another trap with vines and what looked like a stick he'd barely sharpened. He muttered to himself the entire time, clearly frustrated, though his traps were surprisingly functional, "Resourceful," Blake muttered, chewing thoughtfully, "If nothing else, he's resourceful."

Her gaze shifted to Yang's screen. Yang stood triumphantly in the aftermath of another brawl, her grin wide and self-assured. Ember Celica hissed as she reloaded, her Aura blazing brightly despite the fight. Blake could almost hear Yang's laugh through the screen, loud and confident, as if she'd already won. Blake's ears flattened slightly. Yang would be a problem. She was the best fighter bar none in team RWBY. Maybe the best among the first years if Pyrrha wasn't here.

And then there was Adam. Her stomach churned as her eyes flicked back to his screen. He moved like a predator, his every step calculated, his every strike precise. No wasted movements. No hesitation. He wasn't just here to win - he was here to make a point. To remind everyone that Blake Belladonna was his and his alone. Anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path was left on the ground while his Aura was left undamaged.

Blake set her fork down with a soft clink and leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. Yang and Adam. Two wildly different threats, but threats nonetheless. Yang's sheer power and determination were enough to steamroll most of the competition. And Adam...Adam wouldn't stop until he won or until someone dragged him down kicking and screaming. The best thing she could do was try to lure them to take the other down then have Jaune eliminate the survivor. And even then, that was a hard sell give Jaune's 'skill' level.

She closed her eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose, "You're my only hope, Jaune," she muttered under her breath, "Don't screw this up."

As if on cue, Jaune's screen displayed him stepping into one of his own traps, narrowly avoiding getting tangled in his own snare before letting out a frustrated scream.

Blake sighed, picking up her fork again, "I'm doomed."

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All hail Jaune the Simp Slayer.

Question:

1. Do you guys want this to be a Knightshade story or is it funnier if Jaune legit doesn't get Blake's appeal?

Belladdonna Brawl - Chapter 2

So...surprise? Guess no one was expecting this, huh? I feel like I need to finish up some of my older works. I'll see about finishing the final chapter of 'They're Not Dating (They Totally Are) sometime in the future.

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Jaune huddled deeper into the cave, pulling his knees to his chest and shivering - not from the cold, but from the sheer absurdity of his situation. This was insane. Absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent, grade-A, clinically certified crazy.

He was supposed to be in his bed right now, drooling into his pillow and dreaming about - well, probably nothing important. Instead, he was hiding out in some random cave, listening for the sound of footsteps that could belong to one of forty-nine lunatics all ready to beat him into the dirt for the chance to date Blake.

Blake!

He wasn't even that close with Blake! Sure, they talked sometimes; emphasis on some! Jaune had exactly three types of conversations with Blake:

Library conversations, where he asked her if she'd seen Weiss. Dorm conversations, where they awkwardly passed each other because he and Ruby were friends. And Food conversations, where she nodded in acknowledgment from across the table while he stuffed his face with bacon.

None of that screamed romance.

Jaune leaned back against the damp cave wall and let his head thump gently against the stone, "Why am I here...?" he mumbled to himself, staring at the dark ceiling. Oh, right. Because he didn't read the damn sign-up sheet. It was supposed to be a trip! A relaxing excursion to some island Weiss owned where he could sip coconut water and maybe find some cool seashells to bring back to Ruby and Nora. Instead, he was thrown out of a bullhead like someone's unwanted luggage while Yang cheerfully informed him she was going to kick his ass.

He'd barely been awake!

The events of the morning played back in his head like a bad dream. One moment, he was asleep, warm and safe in his bed. The next, he was plummeting through the air, Yang yelling something about kicking his ass, and Ozpin's face calmly explaining that they were all here to fight for Blake's heart.

And then there was that one guy - Jaune didn't even know his name - who tried to cleave him in half within five minutes of landing. No hello. No introductions. Just screaming something about "Bellabooty" before swinging that massive sword like a lunatic. He didn't even look like a first year. Were people from all four years seriously fighting for the right to date Blake Belladdonna?! She was pretty, sure, but seriously?!

Jaune rubbed his temple, "This can't be real. This has to be some kind of elaborate prank. Maybe Ren slipped something into my dinner..." That made more sense than this. Except it didn't, because no hallucination could perfectly replicate the sharp pain of a branch smacking him across the face as he fled blindly into the woods.

At least he hadn't been followed this far. Jaune took a deep breath and tried to relax. If he just laid low and stayed hidden for the next three days, this whole thing would blow over. Let the other forty-nine fight it out like the love-starved animals they were. He wasn't about to get pummeled just so he could stand awkwardly next to Blake and ask her what book she was reading.

It wasn't like he even had a chance anyway.

Yang and Sun were here. He knew them. Yang had that whole "hot partner" angle going for her, and Sun was, well...Sun. Cool, charming, and with way more abs than Jaune thought was physically necessary. Seriously, he'd seen Sun grate cheese on those things.

And then there were the others - the ones Jaune didn't know. He hadn't gotten a good look, but from the glimpses he caught during freefall, some of them looked terrifying. One guy had horns. Pure black horns that looked like they could stab clean through his chestplate. Another girl - dark hair, yellow eyes - gave him the kind of glare that promised violence at the slightest provocation.

There was no way he was sticking his neck out in this madhouse. Jaune sighed and rested his head against the wall, "I'll just stay here until it's over. I've got some water, I can probably forage for food..." His stomach growled angrily, "Yeah, I'll figure it out.".

A distant explosion echoed from somewhere outside the cave. Jaune's eyes snapped open, and he swallowed hard, "...I'm gonna die here, aren't I?" He whimpered.

His scroll buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out cautiously, half-expecting Ozpin to deliver some cryptic riddle about how "love is the ultimate test" or whatever nonsense he'd been spewing earlier. Instead, the screen displayed a live feed of the Belladonna Brawl, complete with commentary from Port and Oobleck.

"Ah, here we see contestant number twelve, utilizing the environment to his advantage!" Port's booming voice echoed through the scroll as the feed switched to show Sun Wukong, casually vaulting over trees and using his staff to outmaneuver a group of particularly angry students.

"An excellent strategy, indeed," Oobleck chimed in, "Though one must wonder how long he can sustain such evasive tactics before being forced to engage!"

Jaune stared at the screen in disbelief. Sun looked...like he was actually having fun. Meanwhile, Jaune was hiding in a cave, hoping no one would find him and yell about 'Bellabooty.' He turned the scroll off with a sigh.

"What is wrong with everyone?" he muttered, "Yang I kind of get - she's competitive about everything. And Sun...okay, yeah, sure, I guess he and Blake have a thing. But fifty people? Fifty?! All for Blake?!" He shook his head and let out a humorless laugh, "I mean, she's great and all, but come on! Is it the ears? It's the ears, isn't it?" He let that thought sit for a moment before groaning and burying his face in his hands, "No, no, stop. Don't make this weirder than it already is."

Jaune had no idea how long he sat in that cave. Hours? Maybe. Days? Probably not, but it sure felt like it. His stomach had started growling with such ferocity that he was beginning to wonder if he was about to unlock some kind of weird stomach-based Semblance. Stomach of Devouring or something.

Eventually, the primal need for food outweighed his very rational desire to stay hidden from the Blake-obsessed psychopaths roaming the island. With a deep breath and the resigned sigh of a man who knew this was a terrible idea, Jaune dusted himself off and crept toward the mouth of the cave. Maybe, maybe he could sneak down to the beach, find a coconut or two, and survive long enough to avoid being involved in this ridiculous battle royale. Surely not everyone on this island was constantly patrolling for other contestants. Right?

Right.

Wrong.

He didn't even make it twenty steps into the jungle before the exact same greatsword-wielding maniac from earlier came sprinting through the underbrush, weapon raised and screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs.

Jaune barely had time to process the incoming assault before his survival instincts kicked in. He threw himself to the ground with all the grace of a flopping fish, narrowly avoiding being bisected by a weapon that looked like it weighed more than Nora (not that it was a hard bar to clear; she was weirdly light for all that muscle),"Oh, come on!" Jaune groaned, rolling to his feet and stumbling backward, "You again?! Seriously?! How are you even finding me?"

The greatsword guy didn't answer. He just grinned that unsettling grin, eyes blazing with what Jaune could only describe as pure simpery."The Bellabooty will be mine!"

"What does that even mean?!" Jaune yelped, already sprinting away as the lunatic charged after him. He didn't bother drawing Crocea Mors. His sword would definitely not hold up against the iron slab that was currently trying to turn him into paste. This wasn't a fight. This was a bad horror movie where the clueless protagonist kept tripping over nothing while the hulking killer walked ominously behind him. Except this hulking killer ran.

"I'm not even interested in Blake, okay?!" Jaune shouted over his shoulder, weaving through trees as fast as his legs could carry him, "I don't care about dating her! You don't have to - holy crap, stop swinging that thing!" A tree branch exploded next to him as the man's sword sliced clean through it.

It was official. There were no rules. None.

Jaune skidded to a halt by a small stream, breathing hard and waving his arms frantically as the swordsman slowed down just a few paces away, "Listen, listen! Let's just talk about this, okay? I'm not in this for Blake! I didn't even know what I was signing up for, I swear!"

"Liar," the guy growled, lowering his sword just a fraction. His eyes narrowed dangerously, "You wouldn't be here if you didn't love her like the rest of us." Like the rest of us? Jaune barely held back the urge to laugh hysterically. Oh yeah, because nothing said 'love' like trying to hack each other to pieces on a deserted island!

"I don't love her!" Jaune practically begged, stepping back with his hands raised like he was talking down a wild animal, "She's cool! She's got the whole mysterious loner thing going for her, and yeah, she's pretty - but that's it! You don't have to fight me!"

But of course, as expected, logic and reason bounced right off the man's thick skull like a rubber ball, "You're just trying to psych me out," he muttered, lifting the greatsword once again, "I respect the hustle, man, but I'm not falling for it. The Bellabooty belongs to me."

"Stop saying that!" Jaune groaned, turning tail and sprinting downstream, slipping on mossy rocks and narrowly dodging another swing that sent water splashing everywhere, "I swear to the Brothers, if I survive this, I'm begging Ozpin to erase this entire trip from my memory..." By this point, Jaune wasn't even sure if he was running from the guy or just from the embarrassment. Seriously, Bellabooty? If by some divine intervention he actually made it back to Beacon in one piece, he was never going to live this down. Ever. Yang would never let it go. Ruby would draw comics about it. Nora would probably start a freaking chant.

Another swing, another dodge. Jaune's heart was practically trying to escape through his chest at this point. He didn't stop running until the swordsman's footsteps finally faded behind him.

The moment he was sure he was alone, Jaune collapsed face-first into the mud, arms sprawled out to the sides as he gasped for air, "This... this is my life now," he wheezed, "Running for my life from strangers with greatswords because I signed the wrong sheet. This is what I get for not paying attention..."

He wasn't even sure how much time had passed by the time he peeled himself off the ground and limped over to a nearby boulder to sit. His body ached, and his stomach growled even louder, but at least he wasn't actively being hunted anymore.

Jaune buried his head in his hands and groaned, "Why couldn't this be about Weiss?" he muttered, "At least I like Weiss."

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Jaune stumbled through the jungle in desperate search of civilization - or at least something edible that wouldn't try to stab him. His boots squelched with every step, his clothes clung to his skin, and he was pretty sure a branch had smacked him so hard earlier that he still had leaves in his hair, He sighed heavily, brushing his fingers through his damp locks, "Great. Not only am I stranded on Simp Island, but now I look like I lost a fight to the forest." He grimaced, "Which isn't even that far from the truth."

The faint crackle of energy drew his attention, snapping him out of his self-pity. Jaune ducked behind a tree, peeking carefully around the trunk. Down the hill, by a clearing near the stream, Sun Wukong stood confidently with his staff in one hand, twirling it casually while the other rested on his hip. Across from him was a girl Jaune didn't recognize. She had dark brown hair tied in a high ponytail and ligtly tanned skin that shifted colors - wait, was she camouflaging?

Jaune narrowed his eyes, 'Who the heck is that'?

Sun grinned, oblivious to Jaune's confusion, "Come on, Ilia! You really think you can outmaneuver me? I've fought scarier people than you without breaking a sweat." He unfurled his gunchucks.

Ilia - or whatever her name was - crossed her arms, unimpressed, "I've done my homework, Wukong. I know every move you'll make before you even make it. Just give up now." Jaune furrowed his brow. Homework? What, did she study Blake's social circle like it was a final exam?

Sun, unfazed, reached down and opened a attache large case sitting beside him. Jaune's eyes widened as he saw row after row of glowing Dust crystals tucked inside like he'd just raided the entire stock of a Dust shop. Every type of Dust under the sun (pun not intended) was there, "Yeah?" Sun smirked, grabbing a handful of blue and red crystals, "Did your homework tell you about this?"

Ilia's stance shifted slightly, but she didn't falter, "I know all about your Dust arsenal. I've already set up countermeasures around the clearing." She grinned, razor sharp, "This entire arena is a death trap. Whatever you're planning, it's not going to work." Jaune felt his stomach twist into a knot. Oh no. This felt like one of those fancy chess games Weiss liked. Except with more explosions and permanent injury.

He could already picture it. Sun was about to launch some crazy, Dust-fueled attack, Ilia was going to counter it with something just as insane, and Jaune - like the idiot he was - would be caught in the crossfire wondering how his life had spiraled into this madness.

Jaune took one careful step back, trying to quietly slink away. Slowly, steady...

His boot hit a rock.

...

Sun's head snapped up. Ilia's eyes narrowed, "Oh no," Jaune whispered. He shifted his weight ever so slightly to move, and that's when it happened - he slipped, his foot catching the loose stone and sending him tumbling down the hill like a sack of potatoes.

"AAAAAHHHHHH-!"

Sun's eyes bulged, "Dude! What- "

"Who is that?!" Ilia barked, leaping backward as Jaune bowled straight through her meticulously arranged traps like a human wrecking ball. The traps hit against his Aura, and he yelped in pain every time. Having a large Aura reserve felt like a mixed blessing right now."

Jaune crashed into Sun's open case of Dust, sending crystals scattering across the ground. He scrambled upright just as Sun lunged forward to scoop up the pile, but Jaune - flailing like a man desperately trying to avoid arrest - tripped again, landing the edge of of shield landing onto a particularly large red crystal.

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, everything exploded.

A massive fireball erupted from the center of the clearing, quickly followed by lightning bolts, blizzards, and other elemental-themed explosions. The barrage sent Sun and Ilia flying in opposite directions like ragdolls, their Auras flaring. Jaune, meanwhile, was hurled directly into the river, splashing down with all the grace of a fallen log, his Aura dangerously in the red but still somehow holding.

When Jaune finally resurfaced, spitting water and shaking soot from his hair, he half-expected to see the entire jungle on fire. Instead, he found Sun sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain, and Ilia twitching as she tried - unsuccessfully - to rise to her feet. Both of their Auras flickered faintly before sputtering out entirely. Jaune, somehow, was still standing. Or rather, still floating, bobbing slightly in the stream like a very confused duck.

A brief silence filled the clearing, broken only by the soft gurgle of water and Sun's barely-audible grumble, "Dude... seriously?"

Jaune blinked, dragging himself onto the riverbank with a groan, "I-I didn't mean to!"

Ilia's voice cut through the air, hoarse but furious, "Who even are you?! I've meticulously researched every single contestant! You've ruined everything!"

Jaune opened his mouth to answer, only to pause and glance down at his dripping clothes. He pointed weakly to himself, "...Uh...my name's Jaune?"

Sun slowly sat up, looking between Ilia and Jaune before sighing in exasperation, "Man...I saved up so much for that Dust..."

Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "...Sorry?"

Port's voice suddenly blared to life from Jaune's scroll, startling all three of them, "AND THAT'S ANOTHER DOUBLE ELIMINATION, FOLKS! WHAT A SPECTACLE! CONTESTANT NUMBER 50, JAUNE ARC, EMERGES VICTORIOUS IN A SURPRISING TURN OF EVENTS!"

Jaune stared at the screen in mute disbelief, "I...won?" He...didn't feel good about any of this. At all.

Ilia groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes as if to hide from the sheer embarrassment, "You've got to be kidding me."

Sun just laughed, lying back down with a resigned grin, "Well, guess that's one way to do it. Just...make sure Blake's happy, alright? I'm trusting her future to you, man!"

"I'm not! UGHH! This sucks!" Ilia screamed.

Jaune groaned, "Please don't make this sound more dramatic than it is..."

Half an hour later, Jaune dragged himself into another cave, dripping wet and leaving a soggy trail behind him like some kind of pathetic, mud-caked slug. His arms hung limply at his sides, and his stomach growled with such aggressive ferocity that he half-expected it to detach from his body and go hunting on its own. Collapsing against the cold, rocky wall, Jaune tilted his head back and groaned, "I don't care what anyone says. I'm calling this the worst day of my life." His voice echoed faintly off the cave walls, mocking him with his own miserable tone.

His damp clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, and as he wrung water from his sleeves for the third time, his stomach made another pitiful sound, "Alright, stomach. I get it," Jaune muttered, glancing around the cave. Of course, there wasn't a single scrap of food to be found. Not even a suspicious mushroom that might've been poisonous but edible if he got desperate enough. Being poisoned would've been a hell of a lot better than getting cleaved in half. At least there'd be a body for his family to recover.

That was why he didn't just let that crazy sword guy get him. He wanted to get out of here, yeah, but he also didn't want to do it in a body bag. Aura wasn't foolproof. He wasn't gonna risk getting cut in half by some deranged simp. Getting blown up was bad enough.

"Three days," He sighed, "I just need to last three days. How hard could it be?" He remembered everything that happened so far and slapped his forehead, "I should really stop asking stupid questions..."

For a moment, he debated venturing outside again to search for food. Then he remembered the other guy still running around with that massive sword, screaming about 'Bellabooty,' and decided starvation wasn't so bad after all.

Just as Jaune was preparing to accept his fate as a cave hermit, his scroll buzzed loudly from his pocket. He jumped, nearly dropping it into the mud, "Who the-?!" He fumbled to answer the call, expecting Ruby or Pyrrha asking he needed help (YES!). Hell, he'd take Sun calling to chew him out for blowing up his entire Dust collection.

Instead, a deep, modulated voice filtered through the speaker, "You're really not interested in Blake?"

Jaune blinked, "Uh...who is this?"

"That's not important."

"...Right. Totally normal." Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose, too exhausted to question the ridiculousness of a mysterious voice calling him on a deserted island battle royale, "Yeah, I'm not interested in Blake. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

There was a long pause, the voice crackling faintly over the line, "Good. I'll help you win."

Jaune froze, staring at his scroll like it had grown an extra screen, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Think about it," the voice continued calmly, as if this wasn't completely absurd, "You win, you refuse to date her, and everyone can stop obsessing over this ridiculous competition. You survive, Blake gets peace, and the madness ends."

Jaune scratched his head, processing that, "...Okay, but why do you care?"

"Because I don't want Blake dating a bunch of idiots, and you're the least threatening one here."

Jaune frowned, "Wow. Thanks for that."

"It's a compliment. Don't overthink it."

"I'm definitely overthinking it." Jaune's stomach growled again, louder this time, echoing painfully in the small cave, "...Okay, so, how exactly am I supposed to 'win' this thing? I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not exactly the best fighter. I just survived two eliminations by accident."

"You'll need supplies. Food, water, and basic survival gear," the voice replied simply, as if this was obvious, "You can't win on an empty stomach. The longer you're weak, the more likely someone else will cave your face in."

Jaune winced, "Yeah, I did figure that part out."

"Good. Then gather food. I've sent coordinates along with a map on your scroll. It won't be hard. The island has fruit, fish, and wild game if you can manage it."

Jaune glanced around the cave. The thought of stumbling back outside, soaking wet and with no idea how to hunt, filled him with dread, "You know, I feel like you're really overestimating my survival skills." He camped out with his family a lot, sure, but they didn't have to deal with crazy Blake simps out for blood.

The voice didn't waver, "Learn fast. The alternative is starving."

Jaune groaned, rubbing his eyes, "Great. Fantastic. I'm getting survival advice from an anonymous phone call during a competition for Blake's heart. This is my life now." Another long pause followed, and for a brief moment, Jaune thought the call had ended.

Then the voice added flatly, "You might also want to watch out for the guy with the greatsword. He's circling back toward the caves."

Jaune's heart dropped, "He's what?!"

The call ended.

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Jaune stared blankly at his screen, his hand trembling slightly as he shoved the scroll back into his pocket and scrambled to his feet, "Alright! Nope! No more caves!" He bolted from the entrance, half-stumbling as his foot caught on a rock but managing to keep his balance, "Gotta find food! Gotta not get stabbed! Perfectly normal priorities!" Jaune yelled into the night as he fled into the jungle, with nothing but the sound of his own panicked breathing - and the distant crunch of footsteps - echoing behind him.

Blake leaned back in the oversized leather chair Weiss had dramatically called her 'throne', staring at the massive screen wall in front of her. Multiple feeds flickered in real-time, showing the chaos unfolding across the island below.

To her left, Sun lay groaning in the dirt, still patting out the smoldering remains of his shirt. To her right, Ilia was sprawled out next to a tree, probably reconsidering all her life choices. She liked to think they were her friends, but after today, she was having second thoughts.

At the dead center screen, Jaune Arc was frantically sprinting through the jungle like a man who just realized he was trapped on an island with forty-nine lunatics who all had violent crushes on her. Blake sighed, rubbing her temples, "This whole thing is so stupid."

Seriously, how had it come to this?

At first, she thought it was a joke - some ridiculous rumor Yang probably started for fun. But no. A literal battle royale had been sanctioned in her name. Ozpin, of all people, signed off on it, and Weiss had offered up her private island to host the madness. How did Weiss even get her dads' permission for this?

And now here she was, sitting on an airship, technically the "prize" for this idiotic event. She glanced down at her scroll, Jaune's contact still displayed from her earlier call. Well...at least one of them wasn't actively trying to kill someone over her. That was a refreshing change of pace.

Blake stretched, the leather groaning under her as she propped her feet up on the control panel. Her eyes flicked back to Jaune's feed. He was currently faceplanting over a fallen branch, swearing under his breath as he pushed himself back up.

Yeah. This could work.

Honestly, Jaune winning was the best-case scenario for everyone involved. If she led him to victory, he could claim the prize - her - without any of the weird romantic nonsense. They could shake hands, nod politely, and walk away like civilized people. As far as the world was concerned, they were dating, so no more stupid tournaments or anything else to try and 'win her heart'. She could finally finish her backlog of Ninjas of Love books.

Peace. Quiet. No more Bellabooty.

Blake cringed at the memory of that phrase. Never again, she thought. She swiped through the feeds, watching other contestants launch into increasingly absurd battles. Adam was dueling four random students at once like he was performing on stage, tearing through them without even a dent in his Aura. Meanwhile Yang was fist-fighting what looked like a grizzly bear Faunus. These two would be the most dangerous obstacles to Jaune's victory.

"I swear, if I find out Yang started this..." Blake muttered darkly. Her gaze drifted back to Jaune. He was still running, eyes darting nervously in every direction. To his credit, he had decent instincts when it came to danger. Though, that might've just been the fear of imminent death guiding him.

She tapped her scroll again, calling him back, "Come on...pick up."

It rang once. Twice. Finally, his panicked voice crackled through, "Hello?! I thought we were done! Why is he coming back? I'm gonna die-"

"Relax." Blake fought back the smirk tugging at her lips, "He's not close yet. You've got time."

"Not close yet?! I don't like that 'yet' part!"

Blake rolled her eyes, "Look, Jaune, if you want to survive, you're going to have to listen to me."

There was a beat of silence. She could practically hear him second-guessing every decision he'd ever made,"...Alright," he said, voice finally calming down, "I guess I don't have much of a choice."

"You don't," Blake hummed. She pulled up a map of the island, scanning for potential supply spots, "Head east. There's a fruit grove about half a mile from your position. You can stock up there. I won't always be able to guide you, so check the map I sent earlier."

"Fruit grove. Right. Got it." His footsteps picked up speed, crunching through leaves, "This is still the weirdest thing that's ever happened to me, by the way."

Blake crossed her legs, watching him carefully, "Trust me. You're not the only one who thinks that."

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Jaune has Blake on his side. Will this be enough to win against the Simp Legion? We'll see.

Team Rizzless - Omake 3 Part 2

Some people were really interested in the 'Onii-chan' angle for Blake instead of the mentor one. Well, ask and you shall receive. I put it in along with a small second segment. Enjoy the cringe overload.

Oh, and Merry Christmas.

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Adam clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he walked toward a nearby bench. Blake had been the reason he joined the MenToo movement in the first place, though he rarely talked about it. When he first met her, she'd been just another ambitious Huntress, eager to prove herself, with stars in her eyes and a determination to change the world. He'd seen her as the little sister he never had, someone he could mentor, guide, and protect in his own way - even without Aura.

He'd even offered to train her in close combat, sharing techniques he'd developed over years of trial and error. At first, it seemed like a normal mentor-student relationship. Blake was eager to learn, and her dedication was almost admirable. But then the...incidents started.

At first, Adam brushed it off as harmless quirks. Blake was young. Huntresses were...eccentric, to put it kindly. So when she started calling him Onii-chan during training sessions, he assumed she was just being playful. Acting like a Mistralian weeaboo like some of the other people in their neighborhood.

He was wrong.

The first time it happened, they had just finished sparring. Blake had landed on her back, panting, hair splayed out around her. Adam extended a hand to help her up, and instead of thanking him like a normal person, she smiled sweetly and murmured, "Thank you, Onii-chan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Adam froze, blinking down at her, "...What did you just call me?"

Blake sat up, tilting her head innocently, "Onii-chan," she repeated, her voice a soft whisper that grated his ears, "Isn't that what big brothers are called in Mistral?"

Adam's eye twitched, "We're not in Mistral and I'm not your brother." He saw her like a younger sister, but he wasn't calling her that.

"But you feel like one," she insisted, hugging his arm suddenly, "You've been teaching me so much. It's like you're helping thaw the ice around my heart..." She gazed up at him with wide, shimmering eyes that practically screamed tragic anime heroine.

Adam, on the other hand, felt like screaming for entirely different reasons, "Blake, I'm not thawing anything. We're just training. Let go of my arm."

Instead of letting go, Blake nuzzled into his shoulder, sighing dramatically, "I knew you'd be embarrassed," she whispered, loud enough for him to hear, "Onii-chan is so shy about his feelings..."

Adam pried her off like she was some kind of barnacle, "We're done for today. Go home."

She didn't.

In fact, the next time they met up for training, it got worse. Blake arrived late, gliding into the room with a book under her arm. Adam didn't even have to guess the title - Thawing the Ice Queen's Heart. One of her favorites. She sat down cross-legged in front of him, holding the book up for him to see with a sly smile, "Onii-chan," she purred. Literally purred. Such a horrible stereotype "Don't you think the dynamic between the strong, stoic older brother and his adopted sister is...beautiful?"

Adam stared at her, unblinking, "Why are you holding a book about forbidden sibling romance before a sparring session?"

Blake brushed her hair behind her ear delicately, "It just...inspires me. Sometimes I can't help but imagine us in their place."

Adam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "We are not in their place."

"You're right." Blake nodded sagely, "I could never match the heroine's tragic backstory. Her suffering pales in comparison to mine." She let out a theatrical sigh, lowering her gaze to the floor, "No one understands the loneliness of being a Huntress, wandering this cold, unfeeling world...except for you, Onii-chan."

Adam groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead, "Blake, you have parents. Loving parents that anyone would kill for. You live with them."

"That's true," Blake admitted, clasping her hands over her chest dramatically, "But they don't understand me the way you do. You see the real me."

"The real you needs therapy," Adam muttered, but Blake wasn't listening.

One time, during a meditation exercise, Blake actually scooted closer to him and leaned against his shoulder with a soft sigh, "It's so comforting being near you," she whispered, her breath hot against his neck, "Your presence makes me feel safe...like I'm finally home."

Adam opened one eye, scowling down at her, "We're sitting on floor mats, Blake. In a gym."

"Onii-chan's sense of humor never fails to brighten my day," she giggled softly, tilting her head toward him.

Adam stared at the ceiling for a long moment, silently questioning every life choice that led him here. It wasn't just the little sister act that grated on him - it was the sheer commitment. Blake didn't break character, even in public. Once, while they were walking through Atlas during a trip, she loudly complained, "Onii-chan! You're walking too fast. Wait for me!" As if she couldn't easily outpace him with her Aura-empowered strides.

Heads had turned. He still hadn't recovered.

And then there was the absolute final straw.

Adam had been sitting under a tree during their break, eyes closed, enjoying the rare peace. Blake approached quietly, and just when he thought maybe - just maybe - she was going to act normal for once, she knelt beside him and whispered:

"I made you lunch, Onii-chan~."

Adam opened his eyes to find a neatly packed bento box sitting in her lap. She'd decorated it with hearts.

"No," he said immediately, standing up.

"But - "

"No."

Blake pouted, cat ears drooping slightly, "Onii-chan, don't you trust my cooking?"

Adam looked her dead in the eye, "Not when it's wrapped in romantic subtext, I don't."

Blake sighed wistfully, "I'll win you over eventually," she said with unnerving confidence, "One day, you'll stop fighting it."Adam didn't wait around for the rest of the conversation. He left the park without looking back, muttering to himself the entire way.

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Adam had thought - hoped - that the "Onii-chan" phase was the worst of it. He was wrong. Because shortly after Blake realized the big brother act wasn't getting her anywhere, she pivoted hard into something even more unbearable.

Tsundere.

It started subtly - at least, as subtle as Blake could manage, which wasn't saying much. They were sparring, and Adam had just disarmed her with a clean strike to her wrist. It was easy. TOO easy. He expected the usual grumbling or maybe another weird, flirty comment. Instead, Blake crossed her arms, turned her head with an exaggerated hmph, and muttered, "It's not like I wanted to win or anything. Stupid Adam."

Adam blinked, "What?"

"I let you win," she continued, eyes narrowed at the wall like it had personally offended her, "You're lucky I went easy on you. Idiot."

Adam's sword lowered slowly, "...I disarmed you in three seconds."

"Three seconds that I allowed to happen!" Blake snapped, cheeks flushing red as she adjusted her gauntlets.

Adam stared at her, expression unreadable, "...Are you serious right now?"

"I-It's not like I care if you believe me or not!" Blake huffed, tugging her hair tie free to let her long black hair fall dramatically over her shoulder, "I don't even know why I bother sparring with you. It's not fun or anything!"

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, inhaling deeply, "Okay. This is new. What's this supposed to be?"

"I have no idea what you mean." She flicked her hair, throwing in an exaggerated eye-roll, "It's not like I care about your opinion. D-Don't misunderstand or anything."

Adam squinted at her, "...Did you hit your head?"

"No! Ugh, you're the one being dense!" Blake crossed her arms tighter, practically vibrating with frustration, "Why do you always have to be so - so cool all the time! It's annoying!"

"Cool?" Adam repeated flatly.

"Whatever! It doesn't matter!" Blake's face reddened further as she fumbled to grab her sword again, "S-Stupid Adam..."

Adam slowly lowered his weapon, holding up a hand, "Alright, stop."

"What now?" Blake snapped, glaring at him from the corner of her eye.

Adam exhaled, eyes narrowing, "I need to ask you a very important question, Blake. Are you...trying to act tsundere right now?"

Blake flinched visibly. Her cat ears twitched, "W-What? No! Why would I- "

He pointed at her accusingly, "You are."

"I'm not!"

Adam crossed his arms, staring her down, "You're literally doing all the tropes. The crossed arms. The 'idiot' comments. The hair flicks. I've seen anime, Blake. I know exactly what this is." He'd been a teenager once in his life. He too had his weeb phase, blindfolding himself and claiming that he'd studied the blade. At least he actually did study the blade...

Blake's face went beed, "I-I just...maybe I'm frustrated! That's all! I can be grumpy sometimes, okay?"

Adam leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing, "Hmph."

She snarled in embarrassment, "D-Don't mimic me!"

"Oh no," Adam said, his tone deadly serious, "I just misunderstood. I didn't know you were going to let me win, Blake. You're clearly on a higher level than me. I'm just a dumb idiot who doesn't understand your feelings."

Blake's face burned bright red, "Y-You're mocking me - "

"I'm thawing your cold heart, Blake," Adam deadpanned, "That's what this is, right? That's what you're angling for?" Her lip trembled as she took a step back, suddenly looking like she wanted to flee the room entirely, "Admit it," Adam pressed, refusing to let it drop. He was far too annoyed to, "You're doing this on purpose."

"I thought it might...work," she muttered weakly, barely audible, "Guys like tsunderes."

Adam groaned and dragged both hands down his face, "Oh my gods, Blake. Guys like fictional tsunderes. Real-life ones are just- "

"Cute," Blake cut in, still glaring at the floor.

"No," Adam corrected sharply, shaking his head, "It's frustrating. You can't just insult me and expect me to-"

"I-It's not like I want you to like me or anything, baka!" Blake blurted out, her fists clenched at her sides.

Adam froze mid-sentence. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

She had actually saida baka. In real life. In Remnant.

Adam lowered his hands and stared at her, wide-eyed, "Blake...what the hell did you just say?"

Blake's face practically burst into flames as she took another shaky step back, "I-I didn't- I mean- It just slipped out!"

Adam pointed at the door, "Leave."

"But - "

"Leave. Go home. Drink some tea. Think about what you just said, and then never say it again. Then feel ashamed of yourself because you're a terrible, terrible person." Blake stammered, visibly torn between defending herself and crawling into a hole to die. The fact that she could feel embarassment gave him a bit of hope. Just a bit, "Baka," Adam repeated, staring at the ceiling in disbelief, "She actually said it. Where did we go wrong."

"Shut up!" Blake hissed, practically vibrating with shame.

"Baka," he said again, louder this time, "In Mistralian, no less."

"I'm going home!" Blake finally blurted, turning and sprinting for the exit like her life depended on it. Adam watched her flee, pinching the bridge of his nose as the door slammed behind her. The gym was quiet again, but the damage had been done.

"Baka," Adam muttered one last time, shaking his head as he collected his things, "I need to do something before it gets worse."

Two days later, he registered for MenToo.

Team Rizzless (Omake 4) - Schnees and Caffeine

Next omake. The Schnees plus a little Coco at the end cause people keep asking about her.

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Jacques Schnee sat in his lavish study, slouched in the oversized leather chair behind his grand oak desk. His tie was loosened, his hair disheveled, and the top buttons of his shirt undone - not in some fashionable, billionaire-playboy way, but in the exhausted, barely-holding-it-together way. He stared blankly at the glass of whiskey in his hand, swirling it slowly like the answers to his problems might just manifest in the amber liquid.

They didn't.

The fire crackled in the hearth beside him, filling the room with warmth and light. Not that it mattered. Jacques felt cold. Tired. Drained. Across the room, behind a wall of polished glass, Schnee Dust Company stock charts were displayed on a massive screen. The numbers dipped here and there, nothing catastrophic - just normal fluctuations. To the average observer, everything was fine. But to Jacques? Oh no. He knew.

This wasn't just business fatigue. This was marriage fatigue.

Jacques took a long sip of whiskey, sighing as he sank deeper into the chair. He glanced at the large portrait hanging on the wall - a grand, oil painting of himself and his lovely wife, Willow. She looked radiant in her flowing white gown, a vision of beauty and elegance. Meanwhile, Jacques looked...like Jacques.

"Oh, Jacques," he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples, "You fool."

It was supposed to be simple. Marry into the Schnee family. Charm Willow Schnee, secure the fortune, and take over the Dust empire. And then, once his position was secured, solidify his position via a mix of threats and blackmail. Even if Willow to find out the truth about him, he'd be too entrenched to remove. Any attempt to do so on her end would've left her on the streets along with their children. A classic gold-digging playbook maneuver. He thought he'd be sipping martinis, bathing in lien, and living the good life by now.

Instead...he was living with a Huntress.

A very eager Huntress.

"Jacques!" Willow's voice called from somewhere in the manor, echoing down the halls with the playful lilt that both thrilled and terrified him, "Where are you, darling? I've been waiting all day~" Jacques sat bolt upright, adjusting his tie and trying (in vain) to smooth his hair down. He looked around as if there might be some hidden escape tunnel in his study. There wasn't.

"Oh gods," he whispered, downing the rest of the whiskey in one gulp, "Not again."

The door creaked open, and Willow peeked inside. Her long, silver hair cascaded over her shoulder, and her ice-blue eyes gleamed mischievously as she leaned against the frame in a way that was somehow elegant and predatory at the same time. She wore her old Huntress outfit, tight and form-fitting - far too tight for a woman with three children who was pushing 50. And yet, he couldn't deny that she looked disturbingly good in it. In pure looks alone, Willow Schnee put women half her age to shame, Huntress or otherwise. If not for the wrinkles under her eyes, you wouldn't even be able to tell she was a mother of three children, two of them being adults.

Sadly, her looks were of little comfort to him.

"Jacques," she purred, sauntering into the room, "There you are."

"Willow! Dearest!" Jacques shot to his feet, plastering on his best fake smile, "I was just about to - uh - get back to work!"

Willow arched an eyebrow, "Work? Don't be silly, Jacques. It's after hours. Time to unwind." She crossed the room in long, graceful strides, and Jacques felt himself shrinking back into his chair with every step she took.

"Isn't there something...business-related I could handle instead?" he asked, already knowing the answer, "Maybe a shareholder meeting? Or - uh - a Dust mining issue? I hear the Mantle branch had some supply chain disruptions - "

"Shhh." Willow pressed a finger to his lips, smiling sweetly, "We'll talk about Mantle later. Right now, I need your attention."

Jacques paled. This wasn't a request. He thought about resisting for a moment. About standing up for himself. But then he remembered the last time he tried that. The bedroom was destroyed. His back was out for two weeks. He had to hold shareholder meetings via scroll call from bed.

The door creaked open again, "Mother?" Whitley's voice carried into the room. The poor boy peeked inside, looking mildly disturbed as he caught sight of the way Willow leaned over him.

"Oh, Whitley!" Jacques nearly lunged for the distraction, "How are you, my darling boy? Come in, let's discuss- "

"Nope." Whitley turned on his heel immediately, "I'm leaving. This is the third time this week, Mother. Please let him rest."

Willow chuckled, waving her son off, "Oh, Whitley, you worry too much."

"You say that now, but if you kill him, who's running the company?" Whitley grumbled from the hallway.

Jacques's eyes flicked back to Willow, pleading silently, "He has a point, you know. Think of the company!"

Willow smiled, tilting his chin up with a delicate hand, "Don't worry, Jacques. I am thinking about the company. You're so much more relaxed after we spend time together. It helps you think clearly." Jacques wanted to protest that overwhelming exhaustion wasn't the same thing as relaxation, but he held his tongue.

This was his life now. No shady backroom deals. No exploiting workers. No bribing officials. He didn't even have the energy to embezzle funds! Every morning, he woke up thinking about all the dastardly things he could be doing as the CEO of one of the most powerful Dust companies in the world. But by nightfall, all he could do was survive another marathon session of Willow.

"Jacques," Willow murmured into his ear, snapping him out of his thoughts, "Come to bed."

"Yes, dear," he replied automatically. As she led him from the study, Jacques glanced once more at the grand painting on the wall. There, frozen in oil and canvas, his painted self looked so smug, so confident and self-assured. He thought he had all the cards, "You fool," Jacques whispered again, shaking his head.

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Whitley sat at the long dining table in the grandiose Schnee manor, idly stirring his tea with the same deadpan expression he wore every morning. The ornate chandelier above him sparkled like fresh snow, the room's elegance reflecting the Schnee wealth and status. It was the very picture of wealth and excess, one that just about anyone on Remnant would envy or kill for. They were the one percent of the one percent.

Yet none of it mattered to him. Not when he lived in a house full of cringe.

He took a long sip of tea, his eyes narrowing as he scrolled through his scroll, reluctantly browsing the latest trending topics on the Dustnet.

Weiss Schnee spotted simping for Atlas Guard Captain again - fourth rejection this month.

Winter Schnee spotted at training ground - still thirsting over General Ironwood, possibly delusional.

Is Willow Schnee the hottest Huntress mom on the continent? Poll results may surprise you!

Whitley groaned, setting his scroll down like it physically pained him to touch it. He was related to these people, "Wonderful," he muttered, rubbing his temple, "Another week of public humiliation by association."

It wasn't just the Schnee name that carried weight. It was the fact that his sisters had reputations. Loud, thirsty reputations. Winter couldn't attend a single Atlas military function without subtly (or not-so-subtly) trying to lure Ironwood into some 'disciplinary' scenario. Meanwhile, Weiss - once hailed as the elegant, unreachable Ice Queen - had somehow speedran her way into becoming the internet's favorite cringe failgirl with videos coming out every couple of weeks. She had a wiki page for it!

Every time Weiss tried to use her heiress status to flex on some guy in Vale, it ended with her getting publicly rejected and trending on Dustnet. And every time she did it, he could feel the Schnee name digging deeper and deeper into a cringe hole it could never escape from.

Whitley slumped back in his chair, staring blankly at his untouched breakfast. How was he supposed to uphold the Schnee legacy when his sisters were single-handedly turning the family name into a meme?The door to the dining room creaked open, and Klein, the ever-loyal family butler, entered with a silver tray, "Another refill, young master Whitley?"

Whitley eyed the steaming pot of tea and sighed, "Yes, Klein. Make it strong. I'll need all the strength I can get to survive the rest of this morning."

Klein poured the tea carefully, offering a warm, knowing smile, "Rough night, sir?"

Whitley scoffed, "For me? No. For Father? Let's just say I'm surprised he managed to make it to breakfast. I swear Mother's going to kill him at this rate."

Klein coughed into his hand to cover his chuckle, "Your mother does have quite the...enthusiasm."

"That's one word for it," Whitley grumbled, taking another sip of tea, "Honestly, I don't know who has it worse - Father for marrying her, or me for existing in this family." Klein wisely chose not to comment.

A soft chime from Whitley's scroll drew his attention once more. With a sinking feeling, he picked it up and glanced at the notification.

New Message from SDC FanMail - You Have 36 New Admirer Requests!

Whitley groaned, letting his forehead fall onto the table with an audible thud. Oh yes. There was also that. It wasn't just his family's cringe antics that plagued him - it was the outside world, too. Being the only son of the Schnee family meant that he was one of the most eligible bachelors in the kingdom. Huntresses from all over flooded his inbox, desperate for even a sliver of attention. It was as if he'd made an AuraFans account despite very blatantly avoiding that site at all costs.

He scrolled through the messages reluctantly.

"Mr. Schnee, I'd love to show you my combat moves sometime - I think we'd be a great duo~ :3"

"I'm free tonight if you'd like to spar, Whitley. Or anything else ;)."

"Hey :P. I heard Schnee men are very resilient. Care to prove it?"

He rubbed his temples harder. There was no escape. Whitley had hoped that not being a Huntress would spare him from the infamous desperation and lack of shame his sisters exuded. He was wrong.

Huntresses were equal opportunity cringe. It didn't matter if he couldn't swing a sword or shoot a gun - the second Huntresses found out he had Schnee blood, they swarmed like vultures circling a particularly wealthy corpse, "You'd think they'd be more subtle," Whitley muttered, glaring at the messages, "But no. This is thirst in 4K." He straightened his tie, determined to carry on with his day despite the cringe storm surrounding him.

But just as he lifted his teacup to his lips, the door burst open, "Whitley," Weiss huffed, storming in dramatically, her high heels clicking against the polished marble. Her face was flushed, and she looked ready to rant, "You will not believe the nerve of the men in Vale!"

Whitley lowered his cup slowly, giving her the most deadpan stare imaginable, "I can believe it," he replied flatly.

"No! Listen to me!" Weiss insisted, slamming her hands down on the table, "I gracefully introduced myself to a barista this morning - a barista, Whitley! And he rejected me! Can you imagine? Me!"

Whitley arched an eyebrow, "Yes."

Weiss narrowed her eyes at him, "What was that?"

"Nothing, sister," Whitley sighed, gesturing toward the breakfast spread, "Would you like some tea? Perhaps it will soothe your wounded pride."

Weiss crossed her arms and sat down beside him with a grumble, "I just don't get it," she muttered, "I'm elegant, wealthy, and powerful. I offer them the chance to fuck me raw like a worthless slut." Whitley winced. He hated how she was so blunt about her sexual proclivities with her younger borther, "I'm willing to give them whatever they want sexually and yet they have the gall to say no! What more could they possibly want?!"

"Less cringe, perhaps," Whitley offered with a wry smile.

"Shut up, Whitley."

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Whitley thought he could handle public outings. He was wrong. Atlas was supposed to be a city of discipline and order - the bastion of civilization, where everything ran like a finely-tuned machine. A culture that emphasized formality and manners over the emotional outbursts of the other three kingdoms. It should have been the perfect place to escape the horrors of Huntress thirst.

And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of DustCo Mart, clutching a shopping basket and pretending not to notice the increasingly obvious approaches.

The first sign of trouble came in the form of a blur of neon pink and obnoxious energy.

"Whitley!"

Oh no.

Neon Katt practically skated across the floor with her impractical rollerblades, weaving between aisles with the grace of someone who spent far too much time running and jumping off things for fun. She skidded to a halt in front of him, her wide, mischievous grin already setting off alarm bells in his head,"Oh joy," Whitley muttered, carefully selecting a jar of imported tea leaves and placing it in his basket, "What brings you here, Miss Katt?"

"Just grabbing some snacks," Neon replied, rocking back on her heels, eyes gleaming with the same predatory look most Huntresses had, "Gotta keep my energy up, y'know?" She leaned closer, her arms casually resting on the shelf beside him, "But it looks like my day just got a whole lot better."

Whitley felt the cringe seeping into his pores, "Ah, yes," he deadpanned, stepping slightly to the side to create distance, "Because nothing screams 'exciting afternoon' like the tea aisle."

Neon winked, "Hey, I like a little sugar with my tea."

Whitley gave her the driest, most unimpressed stare imaginable, "Was that supposed to be flirting? Because it felt more like secondhand embarrassment."

Neon chuckled, undeterred, "Aw, c'mon! You don't gotta play hard to get. I mean, look at you - all dapper and broody. It's kinda hot."

Whitley mentally calculated how long it would take to fake a sudden phone call and exit the store, "I'm seventeen," he replied flatly, grabbing another box of tea and clutching it like a lifeline.

Neon just shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair, "That's legal in Atlas."

"Goodbye, Neon."

He turned to walk away, but her voice followed him like nails on a chalkboard, "Hey, if you change your mind, I'm free tonight! Or right now! The produce aisle's practically empty."

Whitley did not dignify that with a response. Just as he thought he was in the clear, fate decided to double down, "Whitley Schnee." His grip tightened on the basket. Of course she was here. He turned around to face his new Soleil, Huntress prodigy and military-grade buzzkill, emerged from behind the canned goods aisle like she'd been lying in wait. With her pristine uniform and straight-laced demeanor, she was the last person Whitley expected to join the ranks of the thirst brigade.

But there she was, arms crossed, scanning him like he was some kind of checklist she needed to complete, "Miss Soleil," Whitley greeted tersely, already bracing for the inevitable.

"I have been considering the merits of partnership," Ciel began without preamble, her tone perfectly professional, "After thorough analysis, I believe we would make an optimal match."

Whitley blinked, "I...beg your pardon?"

"Sexual partnership," she clarified, tilting her head slightly, as if he were the one being slow, "Based on our respective genetics and the Schnee family history, the likelihood of producing efficient offspring is exceptionally high. Additionally, intimacy would strengthen your physical resilience. A logical pursuit."

Whitley slowly pinched the bridge of his nose, "Ciel," he started carefully, "Do you genuinely think that starting a conversation about genealogy and 'efficient offspring' is the ideal way to flirt with someone?"

Ciel nodded, apparently proud of her 'effort', "Correct. Logic dictates that appealing to practicality will yield better results than emotional rhetoric like all other Huntresses attempt."

Whitley gave the basket in his hand a long, calculating look, wondering if he could feasibly crawl inside it and escape this mortal realm, "I see," he said through gritted teeth, "Well, Miss Soleil, as...flattered as I am by your proposal, I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Ciel's brows knit together slightly. It was her version of a frown, "Disappointing. You are one of the more tolerable men in Atlas."

"I'm honored," Whitley replied dryly, "but I'd like to finish buying my tea without being ambushed."

Neon's voice echoed from the next aisle over, "I'm still free tonight, you know!" Whitley seriously considered switching to online delivery services from that point forward.

Ciel, however, remained undeterred. She stepped closer, her analytical gaze unwavering, "If you reconsider, I am willing to provide thorough demonstrations of my capabilities."

"Oh, for the love of- "

Before Whitley could finish his protest, Klein appeared like a guardian angel, sliding between them with a perfectly-timed cart, "Ah, young master Whitley," Klein said with a polite bow, clearly sensing the crisis, "Your father requests your presence at home immediately. Something about an urgent business matter."

Whitley nearly sagged with relief, "Oh no. Business. How unfortunate. I must go at once."

Ciel opened her mouth to respond, but Klein was already steering Whitley toward the exit. As they left the store behind, Whitley muttered under his breath, "I'm not even old enough to inherit the company yet, Klein."

"Indeed, sir," Klein replied with a knowing smile, "But I felt it was a matter of life and dignity."

Whitley sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"This city is a minefield." Perhaps he would attend the next MenToo rally. He heard Adam Taurus was coming to visit.

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Whitley prided himself on being composed. Dignified. Mature beyond his years.

...

So why was he currently hiding behind a tree in Atlas Central Park, watching a girl feed ducks like some lovesick teenager in a second-rate romance novel?

He peeked around the trunk, heart pounding as Penny Polendina crouched by the pond, tossing breadcrumbs to a cluster of quacking ducks. Her bright orange hair caught the sunlight like flames, and that perpetual cheerful smile of hers practically glowed. She laughed - actually laughed - as one particularly bold duck waddled closer to her lap, eyeing the bread in her hand. Whitley's grip tightened around the bag of groceries he was carrying, his palms suddenly clammy.

'Pull yourself together, Whitley,' he scolded himself, 'You are a Schnee. Schnees do not get flustered by girls feeding wildlife.'

And yet, here he was. There was just...something about Penny. She wasn't like the other Huntresses who prowled the streets, hounding after men like wolves in heat. Penny wasn't thirsty. Penny was...pure. Innocent in a way that seemed impossible for a Huntress. She didn't leer, flirt, or stalk like the rest of them. She met people with an earnest smile and a sincere desire to be befriend them. No ulterior motives, no horny cringe.

To Whitley, she was the embodiment of romantic perfection.

He wanted a connection that was genuine, soft, and wholesome - a sweet courtship where hands brushed accidentally and letters were exchanged in secret. None of that 'shove a man against the wall and demand he fuck' nonsense that seemed to be trending among Huntresses these days.

And Penny - surely Penny was his ticket to such a romance, 'Alright, Whitley,' he thought, squaring his shoulders, 'You can do this. You are suave. Sophisticated. A gentleman.' With all the grace of a future Dust magnate, Whitley strode forward confidently, "Hello there, Penny," he greeted, carefully arranging his expression into what he hoped was his most charming, debonair smile.

Penny looked up, her green eyes sparkling, "Whitley!" she chirped, waving enthusiastically with half a piece of bread still in her hand, "Oh, it's so wonderful to see you here! Are you also here to befriend the ducks?"

Whitley opened his mouth to respond, but the sheer earnestness of her words caught him off guard. Befriend the ducks? "I, uh..." He coughed into his fist, trying to salvage his composure, "I was simply enjoying the weather."

Penny gasped, clasping her hands together, "That's fantastic! What a wonderful day for it. Ducks love sunny weather." Whitley glanced at the ducks. One of them squawked loudly and flapped its wings at him, as if challenging his very presence.

"Right," he muttered, tightening his grip on the grocery bag, "The...ducks."

Penny smiled, scooting over on the bench and patting the empty spot beside her, "Come sit with me! It's always nice to have company."

Whitley hesitated for the briefest of moments. Then, steeling himself, he sat down - carefully, of course, maintaining the perfect amount of distance to seem respectful but interested, "I suppose I could spare a few minutes," he said smoothly, resting his elbow on the back of the bench and turning slightly toward her, "After all, the ducks seem quite...engaging." The same bold duck from earlier honked loudly, waddling closer and glaring at Whitley like it knew he wasn't there to feed them.

Whitley scowled at it.

"So," he said in what he hoped was the most casual tone he could muster, "What brings you to the park today, Penny?"

"Oh, just enjoying the fresh air!" she replied cheerfully, "I finished my patrol early, and I thought, 'Why not make new friends?' Ducks are such good listeners."

Whitley tried not to visibly sweat. Why was she so charming? "I imagine you're a...natural at making friends," he said carefully, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, "Your personality is quite...magnetic."

Penny blinked, tilting her head, "Oh! Thank you, Whitley. I do my best to be approachable. Friendship is important, after all."

"Yes," Whitley said, his voice dropping a touch lower, "Friendship is important." This was it. He was in. He could feel it, "Perhaps," he continued, lowering his gaze slightly like he'd seen in those old romantic dramas Winter and Weiss forced him to watch before he knew better, "It wouldn't be too forward of me to suggest we- "

Penny suddenly brightened, holding out a handful of breadcrumbs to him, "Would you like to feed them too?"

Whitley blinked, "I...beg your pardon?"

"The ducks!" Penny beamed, gently nudging his hand with the bread, "They're still hungry."

Whitley stared at the bread in his palm, then at Penny, who looked at him with complete, blissful innocence. She didn't get it. She didn't understand that he was (tastefully) flirting. He fought the urge to groan. No matter how suave he tried to be, Penny treated him like a kindergarten pen pal.

Still, he took the bread, begrudgingly tossing some to the ducks. Penny's eyes sparkled, "Oh, look! That one likes you!" Whitley watched as one of the smaller ducks pecked at the crumbs near his shoe. The bold one, however, continued to glare, spitefully refusing to eat the bread.

'Even the wildlife knows I'm striking out.'

"You know, Whitley," Penny said, resting her chin in her hands as she watched the ducks, "You're really nice to talk to. I feel like we're becoming great friends!"

Whitley's hand froze mid-toss. Friends, she said. He forced a polite smile, masking the sinking feeling in his chest, "Yes. Friends." As the ducks happily quacked around them, Whitley leaned back against the bench, resigned. He may not have wooed Penny today, but there was always tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Or the day after that.

Romance is a long game, he told himself, sneaking a glance at her as she giggled at a duck waddling too close. And Whitley Schnee was patient.

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Coco was used to turning heads. It wasn't arrogance - just a simple fact. She had style, swagger, and the confidence to match. She didn't just walk through Beacon's halls - she owned them. Designer shades, perfectly tailored combat gear, and that trademark smirk? Yeah, she was a walking thirst trap.

At least, she should've been.

Coco leaned casually against the wall near the cafeteria, twirling her coffee cup in one hand as she scanned the crowd. Huntresses filled the room - laughing, talking, and occasionally pretending to 'stretch' in ways that just so happened to show off their assets when one of the visiting (male) inspectors visiting today passed by.

It was pathetic.

They threw themselves at any man who so much as breathed near campus - flirting aggressively, flexing Aura-enhanced muscles, and practically begging for attention. If she had a lien for every time she watched Yang grab some poor guy by the shirt and demand he take her out, she'd own half the Dust in Vale. And that was just Yang. She wasn't even the most desperate or horny Huntress in campus. That honor went to Weiss.

But the moment Coco did the same thing to one of them? Crickets. No, worse: Judgmental crickets.

Take last week, for example. She'd seen Velvet standing by the mission board, her partner looking cute as hell in that oversized sweater she sometimes wore. One smooth line, one suave approach, and Velvet should've been putty in her hands. Instead? "Oh, Coco, haha! You're funny!" Velvet had laughed awkwardly, clutching the mission clipboard like a lifeline and sidestepping out of reach, "I'm, uh, flattered but...you know, not really looking for anything right now!"

Two hours later, Velvet was seen in a gym down in Vale shamelessly 'spotting' for a shirtless meathead while making him uncomfortable with far too many hands-on corrections.

Coco grunted at the memory, sipping her coffee with a grimace. It was the same story every time. If she so much as winked at one of her classmates, they acted like she was the weird one. Was it because she was a woman? Was that it? Oh, but let a guy trip and fall into someone's chest, and suddenly it's a romantic accident worthy of writing a novel about.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Fine. Whatever. She wasn't about to start sulking. There were plenty of fish in the sea - and if this particular pond was filled with thirsty hypocrites, she'd just have to double down. Her eyes flicked across the room, finally landing on Blake Belladonna sitting alone by the window with a book.

Perfect.

Blake was mysterious, broody, and had that 'I'm too cool for this' vibe that made Coco love a challenge. Plus, those cat ears of hers? Adorable. She wanted to bite them. Coco pushed off the wall and approached the table with her usual swagger, smoothly pulling out the chair across from Blake and sitting down without asking, "Hey, Belladonna," Coco drawled, tilting her shades down just enough to make eye contact, "Did it hurt when you fell from heaven, or did you land gracefully like the badass you are?"

Blake's amber eyes lifted slowly from her book. She blinked once, gaze as unreadable as ever.

"...What?"

Coco smirked, leaning closer on the table, "I said, you look like an angel. Thought I'd save you the trouble of pretending not to notice me." Blake stared. Then kept starting. She stared long enough that Coco started to feel the faintest twinge of doubt.

Then, finally, Blake spoke, "Coco...are you hitting on me?"

Coco chuckled, "Yeah, figured I'd shoot my shot. Can't blame a girl for trying, right?" She flashed a grin, casually adjusting her hat.

Blake's expression didn't change, "You know I'm reading, right?"

"Oh, I know." Coco leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs, "I figured I'd add a little something to your day. Call it...multitasking."

Blake narrowed her eyes slightly, "I think I'll stick to the book," she replied, turning a page pointedly.

Coco raised a brow, "You sure? I'm way more interesting."

Blake exhaled slowly, "Coco, you're nice and all, but...I don't swing that way."

Coco snorted, "Blake, you stare at women's butts daily."

Blake raised a very unimpressed brow, "I'm comparing to see if my butt's bigger than theirs. We all know men love big asses. That's what the books say, at least."

"Sure," Coco teased, "And I'm just admiring your dedication to observing." Blake's cat ears twitched, but she stayed silent, giving Coco a look so dry it could've peeled paint. Coco laughed and reluctantly stood, downing the last of her coffee with a quick gulp, "Well, can't say I didn't try. I'll catch you later, Belladonna. Let me know if you ever wanna...broaden your horizons." As she strolled away, Coco could feel Blake's glare boring into the back of her head.

Hey, a girl could dream.

She wasn't out of the cafeteria for five minutes before she heard whispering behind her.

"Can you believe Coco just hit on Blake?"

"I know, right? I mean, it's one thing to flirt with guys, but with us? What a weirdo."

Coco didn't bother turning around. She already knew the faces behind the voices. Hypocrites. Absolute hypocrites. Yang had literally tried to grind on some poor dude in the club last night (he filed a restraining order), but she was the weird one for giving Blake a compliment? She stuffed her hands in her pockets, rolling her eyes. Fine. Let them talk. The thing about being a confident, hot Huntress was that eventually, someone would crack. And when they did, she'd be there to be their princess charming.

Hours later, Coco leaned against the railing outside Beacon's library, her trademark smirk firmly in place as she spotted Weiss walking briskly down the corridor. Weiss, as always, looked like she'd stepped off the cover of Dust Empire Weekly - polished, pristine, and practically begging for someone to ruffle her perfectly groomed feathers. Every part of her screamed Ice Queen. And by the Sisters, did Coco want to see her melt.

Today felt like a good day for Coco to test her luck.

"Weiss!" Coco called, pushing off the railing and striding over with her usual confident swagger.

Weiss turned, one manicured eyebrow arching upward as she regarded Coco with the same mix of mild annoyance and haughty indifference she reserved for everyone who dared interrupt her 'busy' schedule, "Yes, Coco?" Weiss asked, her tone clipped but not outright dismissive.

Coco grinned, adjusting her sunglasses and letting her eyes take in the heiress from head to toe. Weiss didn't have the raw sex appeal of Yang and Blake, but damn did she have that 'I want her to step on me' energy, "You're looking extra sharp today, Schnee. That skirt? Killer. Makes me wanna ask if you need help warming up for combat class later...or, y'know, cooling down after." She leaned in slightly, letting the innuendo hang in the air like a mischievous cloud.

Weiss blinked once, then crossed her arms, her face perfectly neutral, "...Excuse me?" she asked back, voice dryer than the Vacuo desert.

"I'm saying," Coco continued, undeterred, "You and me. Maybe we could- "

"Stop." Weiss raised a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. Her expression didn't shift, but the ice in her voice could have frozen an Ursa mid-charge, "Coco, do you genuinely believe this-" She gestured vaguely between them, " -crass, juvenile attempt at flirting is appealing?"

Coco tilted her head, taken slightly aback but still smirking, "Well, yeah. You're hot, I'm hot - figured it was worth a shot."

Weiss scoffed, looking at Coco like she'd just tracked mud onto her pristine white rug, "Let me make myself perfectly clear. I have standards. And someone who thinks they can simply waltz up to me and demand...whatever it is you're implying...is beneath those standards." Coco blinked, the smirk faltering for just a moment. Was she seriously saying what she thought she was saying? Cause if so...holy crap. Look in a mirror lately, Snow Angel?

She just kept on going.

"Who-" Weiss continued, her voice rising slightly in pitch as if she couldn't believe she had to explain this, "-could possibly find that kind of behavior attractive? Honestly, Coco, it's no wonder you haven't had any luck. What woman would be attracted to someone showing up just demanding sex like a common delinquent? It's shameful. I'm surprised no one's complained to the professors about sexual harassment yet, the way you conduct yourself daily."

This coming from the women infamous on the Dustnet for being a cringe girlfail?

Her jaw dropped slightly, but Weiss was already turning on her heel, her ponytail swishing dramatically as she strode away, "Now, if you'll excuse me." She scoffed, "I have more important matters to attend to. Like figuring out how to secure the attention of that man I saw at the park earlier. I still remember his burning looks and crimson hair. He will be ravaging me like a common whore before the day is done. Oh, yes..."

Coco stared after her, dumbfounded. It took a full five seconds before her brain caught up with what had just happened. She raised a hand, pointing vaguely in Weiss's direction, "Wait, what? Weiss!" Weiss didn't so much as glance back, already marching toward her next grand delusion with the determination of a queen on a mission. Coco ran a hand down her face, groaning softly, "Am I the only one who sees the irony here?"

The corridor remained silent except for the faint echoes of Weiss's heels clicking against the polished floor. Coco shook her head, chuckling despite herself, "Yeah, sure. I'm the weird one. Definitely." Sliding her sunglasses back into place, she turned on her heel and headed towards the courtyard. Maybe she'd have better luck with some of the transfer students.

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Poor Whitley. He'll be in the friendzone forever. And of course Huntresses are hypocrites. No wonder Ruby won. Jaune. She has common sense.

Fake It Till You Make It - Chapter 3

Probably the last chapter of this unless I can think up more memoirs. Hope you guys enjoy.

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"The greatest threats are often the ones you least expect.

I've commanded battalions, overseen global military operations, and dealt with forces that sought to destabilize the very foundations of Remnant. In all those years, I have learned that the most dangerous individuals are not always the loudest or the strongest, but the ones who reshape battlefields with quiet efficiency.

Jaune Arc is, without question, the most dangerous man in Remnant.

It's strange to write that sentence, even now. When I first met him, I thought nothing of him. A young Huntsman with no notable pedigree, armed with little more than an old sword and shield, Jaune Arc looked more like a child playing warrior than a true soldier. I dismissed him immediately.

That mistake haunts me to this day.

The first reports seemed inconsequential. A small village, surrounded by Grimm, somehow evacuated under Jaune Arc's leadership. I expected to read about skirmishes, last stands, casualties. Instead, I found descriptions of how Arc 'strategically manipulated the local terrain, outmaneuvering the enemy while minimizing civilian losses.' Entire waves of Grimm were neutralized with zero Huntsman casualties.

I remember asking him how he managed it. He scratched the back of his head and mumbled something about 'just leading people where it seemed safe.' He was lying, of course. Men like Jaune Arc never reveal the full extent of their tactics.

Then there was the Battle of Argus. When the enemy breached our defenses and Arc's unit was cut off, I feared the worst. Reinforcements arrived to find Arc standing victorious atop a downed Atlesian Paladin mech, surrounded by disabled enemies. The official report cited 'masterful use of commandeered technology.' Jaune claimed he had 'panicked and hit buttons until something worked.'

Clever. But I wasn't fooled. Jaune Arc doesn't panic. He adapts.

But the Siege of Mantle was where Jaune Arc's true brilliance became undeniable. His unit was tasked with defending a vulnerable supply line from advancing Grimm. I braced for heavy losses. Instead, his forces routed the enemy entirely.

The official explanation? Arc had orchestrated the battlefield to bottleneck the Grimm, forcing them into a kill zone. When I questioned him directly, he deflected - as he always does - claiming he 'knocked over some crates while climbing to higher ground' and that 'things just fell into place.'

That was the moment I realized something critical. Jaune Arc doesn't just lead. He doesn't command. He shapes fate itself.

I would call it luck if it weren't so consistent. Time after time, Arc's 'accidents' and 'missteps' result in overwhelming victories. There is no luck that precise. The man is a tactical savant, hiding behind the guise of modesty and false humility.

I have no illusions about the danger this represents. As much as I respect Jaune Arc - perhaps even admire him - I am not foolish enough to let my guard down. I have seen enough leaders rise and fall to recognize the signs. Arc's influence spreads quietly, almost invisibly, but it grows all the same. Soldiers rally behind him. Huntsmen trust him. Civilians worship him.

And if Arc ever decided that Remnant would be better under his rule, I have no doubt that he could make it happen.

Respect does not mean complacency. I have established contingencies. Penny Polendina, for example, has been given discreet orders to neutralize Arc should the need arise. Veteran operatives have been stationed near him under the guise of protective details, though their true mission is to monitor for signs of deviation. I have ensured that if the day comes when Jaune Arc turns his gaze toward conquest, he will not rise unchallenged.

I doubt Arc even realizes the full extent of the power he holds. His greatest weapon isn't his sword or shield; it's the perception he has built - whether by design or accident. He leads by making others believe he's ordinary, even as he performs extraordinary feats. I find myself wondering how much of this is deliberate. Is he playing the fool, or is he truly unaware of the legend he is becoming?

It doesn't matter. What matters is that Jaune Arc wins. And that makes him the most dangerous man in Remnant.

If I sound paranoid, it is because I must be. I have been entrusted with the safety of Atlas and the security of Remnant. It is my duty to consider every possibility, even the ones that seem absurd. And the possibility that Jaune Arc, for all his humility and charm, could reshape the world with nothing more than his quiet influence...is not absurd at all.

I watch Jaune Arc with respect. I watch him with admiration.

But most of all, I watch him carefully."

(Excerpt from Tactical Threat Analysis: Remnant's Future Leaders, by General James Ironwood)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"My relationship with Jaune Arc is...complicated.

I respect him deeply. He is a hero of Remnant, a man whose actions have shaped the course of history. His bravery and leadership have saved countless lives, including my own. As a Huntsman, as a leader, and as the father of my beloved nieces and nephews, he stands among the greatest figures of our time.

And yet, I resent him.

Jaune Arc is the father of Weiss's children - my sister's children - and yet, inexplicably, she is not his only wife. For reasons I cannot fathom, Weiss shares her marriage with two other women. Pyrrha Nikos and Ruby Rose. Let me be clear. I respect Pyrrha. I tolerate Ruby (albeit with some fondness). But Jaune? I resent him for allowing this to happen.

I have always believed in discipline, order, and above all, loyalty. These are the principles that have guided me through my years in the military, shaping my career and defining my place in the world. I have faced impossible odds and navigated the political minefield that is Atlas. I have earned the respect of my peers, commanded soldiers in battle, and upheld the Schnee name with pride.

So to find my sister's husband being some cad that forces her to share her love with two other women? It fills me with no great joy.

Every time I confront him, every time I so much as hint at this outrageous situation, he reacts the same way. His eyes widen, his hands wave frantically, and he stammers in that way only Jaune Arc can:
'No, Winter! I swear, I didn't plan any of this! I didn't even know they were serious until they pulled out the rings! I thought they were joking - who proposes in a group?! I panicked! What was I supposed to say?!' And that was just one of his excuses.

Pathetic.

Does he truly expect me to believe that three women - Huntresses of extraordinary talent and stature - simultaneously decided to marry him, and he simply had no choice in the matter? Does he not realize how absurd that sounds? This is Jaune Arc, the Hero of Remnant, the man who commands entire battalions with a word, the strategist who outmaneuvered Salem herself. And yet he insists he was powerless against the whims of three women with engagement rings.

Ridiculous.

I do not know why he insists on keeping up this charade. Perhaps he believes it is humility. Perhaps he is genuinely incapable of acknowledging the influence he holds. Whatever the reason, it is frustrating beyond measure. Weiss deserved better. She deserved a husband solely devoted to her, to her happiness, not one who divides his attention between two other women and their collective thirty-seven children.

Yes. Thirty-seven.

It's a logistical nightmare, one Weiss navigates with all the grace and precision of a Schnee. But I know it wears on her. She will never admit it - pride runs deep in our family, after all - but I see it. I hear it in her sighs when she returns from wrangling Ruby's children, or when she lectures Pyrrha's children on table manners. And through it all, Jaune is there, wearing that same hopeless expression he always does when faced with the consequences of his so-called accidental harem.

Every time I question him, it's the same panicked dance, 'Winter, I know how this looks, but I swear, they decided this! I didn't choose anything! I was just standing there and suddenly there were vows and flowers and I- '

And yet, here he is.

I try to let it go. I try to remind myself that Weiss is happy - or at least claims to be. That the children are well cared for. That Jaune Arc, for all his frustrating humility, is a good man. But there is a part of me that cannot let it rest. A part of me that watches the way Weiss looks at him when she thinks no one is watching - the softness in her eyes, the rare smile she reserves only for him - and feels the sting of jealousy on her behalf.

Why should she have to share him? Why does she - my strong, brilliant, accomplished sister - settle for being one of his wives? She deserves better

The children, at least, are a joy. Thirty-seven nieces and nephews, each more unique than the last. Ruby's children are chaos incarnate, bright and mischievous with her keen intelligence for technology, while Pyrrha's children are polite but terrifyingly skilled for their age, prodigies one and all. Weiss's children, naturally, are the most refined, though even they can be swept up in their siblings' antics. They're already making plans to oust Jacques from his throne. I couldn't be prouder.

I adore them. I spoil them. And in those moments, I almost forgive Jaune for all of it.

Almost.

But then I'll catch him trying to explain the situation to Penny when she comes to visit them, and I am reminded all over again why this frustrates me so deeply, 'It's not what it looks like! I mean, it is what it looks like, but not on purpose! I just - look, it's complicated!'

Jaune Arc. The man who defeated Salem. The man whose tactical brilliance turned the tide of countless battles. And yet he cannot win a single argument about his own marriage. I refuse to believe such a farce. This was his plan, she was sure of it.

So yes, my feelings about Jaune Arc are complicated. I respect him. I resent him. And, to my eternal frustration, I cannot help but feel a reluctant fondness for him. But that does not mean I will stop questioning him. Someone must hold him accountable. Weiss may be satisfied with this arrangement, but I will remind Jaune at every opportunity that I am watching him.

And the next time he tries to tell me this wasn't his doing, I will simply raise an eyebrow and say, 'A man who defeated the Queen of Grimm should not tremble in the face of three marriage proposals.'

He never has a good response to that."

(Excerpt fromFamily and Frustrations: A Schnee's Perspective, by Winter Schnee)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"You know, for the longest time, I didn't get the hype around Jaune Arc. I mean, sure, he was funny and nice in that awkward puppy-dog kind of way, but badass? Legendary? The guy who took down Salem and became the Hero of Remnant? Let's just say I wasn't convinced at first.

But then I saw him in action, and - yeah, okay - I get it now. Jaune Arc is a total badass.

I've heard all the stories, just like everyone else. The strategic genius who saved entire villages from Grimm, outmaneuvered Salem's inner circle, and somehow managed to inspire three of the most incredible women in Remnant to marry him. It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, but with Jaune, somehow it all makes sense.

Take Ruby, for example. I'll admit, when she told me she was marrying Jaune with two other women, I thought she was joking. I mean, Ruby's Ruby, you know? She's the kid who puts syrup on her cookies and calls it breakfast. How was she supposed to handle something as complicated as marriage, especially a poly thing? But then I saw the way she looked at him, and - more importantly - the way he looked at her. He grounds her in a way no one else can. And let's be honest, their kids are absolutely hilarious. Watching those little maniacs run circles around Jaune is probably my new favorite hobby.

And yeah, Dad and I are totally cool with it. Ruby's happy, the kids are awesome, and Jaune treats her like a queen even with two other wives. What more could we ask for? Uncle Qrow, though...oof. Let's just say he's still coming to terms with the whole 'three wives' thing. Every time we have a family dinner, I catch him giving Jaune these side-eyes, like he's trying to figure out how a guy with a pumpkin on his head managed to pull this off.

Not that Jaune notices. He's too busy trying to stop Ruby's kids from jumping off the furniture while Pyrrha's kids practice spear throws in the backyard and Weiss's kids argue over who gets to host the next formal tea party. Honestly, it's kind of amazing how he keeps up with all of them.

Me? I get to be the cool aunt. I show up, play with the kids, teach them a few tricks, and then hand them back to their parents just when they're in the middle of a sugar rush (Weiss' kids are the best with them). It's the best gig ever. Ruby's kids love it when I teach them how to punch, Pyrrha's kids always want sparring lessons, and Weiss's kids think I'm some kind of exotic rebel because I refuse to wear fancy dresses and say the F word.

It's all fun and games for me, but for Jaune? It's chaos. Pure, unfiltered chaos. Every time I visit, he's running around like a headless chicken, trying to wrangle thirty-seven kids while three wives give him conflicting orders. And yet, somehow, he does it. I don't know if it's his legendary patience or his sheer determination, but he makes it work.

And let's not forget the stories about his heroics. Oh man, the way people talk about Jaune, you'd think he was some kind of Huntsman demigod. I've heard people say he's the greatest strategist Remnant's ever seen, the guy who can turn the tide of a battle with a single move. And honestly? I believe it. I mean, have you seen the guy in action? He's the reason we're all still here. The way he took charge during the Grimm Wars, the way he held our team together when things got tough - there's no denying he's earned his spot in the history books.

But here's the thing about Jaune: for all the hype, he's still the same awkward, lovable goofball I met back at Beacon. He's still the guy who trips over his own feet and gets flustered when Ruby kisses him on the cheek. And that's what makes him so great. He's a hero, sure, but he's also just Jaune.

And that's why I'm proud to call him family.

So yeah, Uncle Qrow might grumble about Jaune 'forcing' Ruby to share with two other women (Weiss' sister whines about it too), but honestly? The guy deserves all the happiness he's got. He's earned it. And as long as he keeps making Ruby and the kids laugh, he's okay in my book.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Weiss's kids are trying to teach Pyrrha's kids how to ballroom dance, and Ruby's kids are using the vacuum cleaner to chase Zwei. Somebody's gotta keep this family entertained, and that somebody is me."

(Excerpt from Cool Aunt Chronicles: Life with the Arcs, by Yang Xiao Long)

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"Greetings, dear reader! Allow me to share my thoughts on one of Remnant's greatest heroes: Jaune Arc!

What an extraordinary man! From the first moment I heard tales of his cunning victories and heroic deeds, I knew he was someone special. He defeated Salem, united powerful allies, married three powerful women, and became the father of thirty-seven remarkable children! Isn't that incredible? Truly, Jaune Arc is a man of unparalleled charisma and capability.

I was originally stationed near Jaune Arc's household under General Ironwood's direct orders. 'Monitor Jaune Arc,' he said. 'Observe for signs of ambition or potential world domination,' he said. 'Be prepared to eliminate him if necessary.'

I was so excited to receive the assignment! It meant I could spend more time with Ruby, Weiss, Pyrrha, and Jaune's ever-growing family! I must confess, however, that I was very confused when Jaune told me I was now 'officially' the family babysitter. This was not mentioned in the mission briefing. I am still not entirely sure how it happened. One day I was delivering security reports. The next, Ruby handed me three babies, told me, 'Good luck, Penny! We'll be back in an hour!' and disappeared out the window with Jaune to go shopping for baby formula.

That was three years ago.

I have since been promoted to Head Babysitter, Conflict Mediator, Lunch Coordinator, and Lullaby Performer. I consider this a great honor. Being tasked with keeping an eye on Jaune Arc and his lovely family has been an absolute delight. It is an honor to ensure the safety of the Hero of Remnant and his children, even if it means corralling a small army of tiny humans with more energy than an overcharged Dust crystal.

The children are wonderful and my duties as babysitter are varied, from settling disputes over toy ownership to preventing Ruby's kids from building "rocket skateboards" (a project they assure me is perfectly safe). The family calls these moments "chaos." I call them "character building!"

Managing all thirty-seven of them can be challenging. On an average day, at least one of Ruby's children attempts to climb something taller than they are. Pyrrha's children regularly turn the backyard into a battlefield. Weiss's children practice diplomacy, but their version often involves bribing their siblings with extra dessert in exchange for TV privileges.

It is chaos. But it is happy chaos.

As for Jaune Arc himself, I find him endlessly fascinating. He is warm, kind, and utterly devoted to his family. Watching him try to juggle his roles as a father, husband, and Hero of Remnant is inspiring. He always seems just a little overwhelmed, though I suspect this is simply an act of humility. After all, a man as brilliant as Jaune Arc couldn't possibly be flustered by something as simple as bath time for thirty-seven children.

And yet, there is a small, tiny part of me - perhaps 0.02% - that harbors a lingering concern.

Jaune Arc is a figure of immense influence and power. His charisma is unmatched, his strategic mind unparalleled, and his reputation unassailable. If he were ever to decide that Remnant needed a single ruler, one person to unite the world under their banner, I fear that no force could stop him.

Including me.

Of course, such a scenario is highly improbable. Jaune Arc is a benevolent soul, wholly dedicated to peace and family. Still, my programming insists on preparing for all possibilities. Thus, I have developed an extensive list of contingency plans, should the worst come to pass. These plans include a variety of neutralization protocols, but I sincerely hope they are never needed. I would much rather spend my time baking cookies with Weiss's children or helping Ruby's kids test their latest (non-lethal) inventions.

In truth, I wish nothing but happiness for Jaune Arc and his family. They are chaotic, yes, but they are also filled with love and joy. Watching them grow and thrive is one of the greatest privileges of my existence.

And so, I will continue to fulfill my role as their babysitter and protector, ensuring that Jaune Arc remains the hero we all believe him to be. I am certain he will never give me reason to doubt him.

But just in case...I will keep my contingency plans up to date. After all, preparation is paramount!"

(Excerpt from Adventures in Babysitting: A Synthetic Perspective, by Penny Polendina)

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"In times of peace, the world often forgets those still left in the shadows.

Remnant stands at a crossroads. The Grimm have receded, Salem has been defeated, and for the first time in living memory, the world can breathe without the constant shadow of destruction looming overhead. We've entered a golden age, or so the newspapers claim, and the Hero of Remnant, Jaune Arc, sits at the center of it all. Statues of him stand in every major city, schools name buildings after him, and his family, larger than some villages, is a symbol of prosperity.

And yet, for all this progress, the Faunus continue to suffer.

Oh, the blatant violence of the past has lessened. No longer do we fear being hunted openly in Mistral or Atlas, but prejudice is a stubborn weed that refuses to die. Faunus children still face ridicule, and their parents find fewer opportunities. Change is slow, painfully so, and sometimes it feels as if we are left behind while the rest of the world celebrates. I have a plan to change that.

The plan is simple.

Step one: Marry Jaune Arc.

Step two: Leverage my newfound status as Wife Number Four to further the cause of Faunus equality.

It may seem ambitious, but I assure you, this is the most logical course of action.

Jaune Arc's influence stretches across every kingdom, every council, and every social class. His name alone carries weight that can move mountains - sometimes literally. Jaune Arc didn't just defeat Salem; he reshaped Remnant through sheer will (and a few things he claimed were accidents, though Blake brushed it off as humility). His reputation makes him untouchable, and any cause he supports becomes synonymous with justice and righteousness.

Therefore, it is imperative that I secure his hand in marriage.

Of course, there will be...complications. Pyrrha, Ruby, and Weiss have already claimed their positions as Jaune's wives. The prospect of a fourth wife may seem excessive to some, but I believe it is precisely this unconventional dynamic that allows for further expansion. If three wives are acceptable, what is one more? In fact, one could argue that adding diversity to this arrangement serves as a symbolic gesture of unity.

And who better to embody diversity than a Faunus wife? She could see the headlines now:

"Hero of Remnant Marries Faunus, Pledges to End Discrimination!"

"The Arc Family Expands - Now With 25% More Ears and Tails!"

I anticipate Weiss may object. As CEO of the SDC, she holds considerable influence over Faunus relations - an influence I cannot allow to regress into the...less favorable policies of her father. Weiss is my friend, and I respect her, but even she is not immune to the dangers of corporate inertia.

However, as Jaune Arc's fourth wife, I will ensure that Weiss remembers her commitment to Faunus equality. It will be much harder for her to ignore my input during SDC board meetings when I'm literally sitting across from her at the breakfast table and my children call her Mama and Auntie.

Pyrrha and Ruby will likely be easier to sway. Pyrrha, while fiercely loyal to Jaune, is also endlessly kind and altruistic. She would not stand in the way of a union designed to bring justice and peace to Remnant. Ruby...well, Ruby will probably just think it's funny and find the prospect of cat-eared children cute.

Now, some may question the ethics of pursuing marriage as a political tool. To that, I say: don't be ridiculous! This is not purely a political maneuver. I like Jaune. He's kind, he listens, and he somehow manages to wrangle thirty-seven children without losing his mind. There are far worse people to marry in the name of equality.

And, if I may be honest for a moment, I think he needs someone like me.

Jaune is a great man. Too great. Having all that influence can corrupt even the most virtuous. Yes, he still acts and carries himself like the same clumsy boy I first met in Beacon, but that can change. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. I believe my presence and practical approach to solving problems can counteract that. Every great leader needs someone at their side to keep them grounded.

I can be that person.

Step three: Secure Faunus representation at the highest levels of Remnant governance. With Jaune's backing, I will push for equal rights initiatives across all four kingdoms. Atlas, in particular, remains a stubborn holdout, but Weiss's influence there - combined with mine - will make progress inevitable.

Step four: Establish the Arc-Belladonna Foundation for Faunus Equality. We will fund schools, healthcare initiatives, and workforce integration programs. This will be a multigenerational effort.

Step five: Take down any remaining anti-Faunus organizations. (This step may involve the kids. I have personally trained Ruby's children in stealth tactics. Weiss insists this is 'improper conduct,' but I disagree. They're excellent at infiltration.)

Step six: Find a way to have Menagerie acknowledged as the fifth official kingdom of Remnant.

Now, I know some may read this and think, 'Blake, this sounds less like a memoir and more like an overly elaborate conspiracy.' To those people, I say, 'It's only a conspiracy if it doesn't work.

I have yet to propose this plan to Jaune. Timing is crucial. The last time I hinted at the idea - 'You know, Jaune, it wouldn't hurt to consider expanding the family further...for political reasons' - he turned so red I thought he might actually faint.

Clearly, he wasn't ready. But he will be. One day, Jaune Arc will understand the necessity of this union. When that day comes, I will be prepared. Until then, I will continue to strengthen my bond with the children and subtly remind Weiss of the moral imperative of having a Faunus sister-in-law.

It's not manipulation.

It's strategy."

(Excerpt from The Arc of Equality: A Personal Manifesto, by Blake Belladonna)

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"My name is Winter Arc, I am ten years old and the eldest of Father's thirty-seven children.

Technically, I am only older by a matter of minutes, but that is irrelevant. First is first. That is what Mother always says, and as the eldest, it is my duty to uphold the family name with grace and dignity. This is especially important when one's siblings are... less inclined toward order.

Father says I shouldn't take things so seriously. He says it with a smile, like he's proud of me, but I know he doesn't really mean it. I've heard him tell Mama Ruby's children the exact opposite. "Please take things seriously for once," he'll say as they attempt to launch yet another 'airship prototype' off the roof. (The last one created a hole in Schnee manor that still hasn't been repaired).

It's hard being the responsible one, but I manage.

My siblings often accuse me of being Mother's 'favorite,' but that is not true. I simply have a better understanding of propriety. And if Mother does favor me, it is only because I am the most well-behaved. The rest of them could stand to learn a few things from me.

That said...I am absolutely Father's favorite.

Not that he would ever admit it. Father is far too humble for that. But it is obvious to anyone who pays attention. He always lets me sit next to him at dinner, and when I ask for extra dessert, I receive it without question.

I respect Mother deeply, but there are certain things that only Father can be persuaded to allow. If I ask for a later bedtime, Father will hesitate, then glance at Mother for permission. When she narrows her eyes at him, he sighs and says, "I'll think about it, Winter." That is not a no. It is a negotiation. Mother would be far stricter.

And while Mother prides herself on discipline, Father is a tactician. He knows exactly how much he can get away with. That is why I always ask him first.

Mother often tells me that I take after her, but I disagree. I take after Father. That isn't to say I love Mother any less, of course, but the facts speak for themselves.

Mother says I have her poise. Father says I inherited his 'responsible streak.' I think he means it as a joke, but I know better. Father is very responsible. I have watched him manage our entire household, breaking up fights, calming Mama Ruby's children, and stopping Mama Pyrrha's kids from turning the garden into a combat arena.

His strength lies in the way he holds everything together. Always calm, always patient. He carries the weight of the family with ease. I have decided that when I grow up, I will be exactly like him. I've already commissioned a hoodie. It will be very cozy.

I have also decided I will marry someone exactly like him. It will be a difficult prospect - after all, who could match Father? - but I will manage. Mama Ruby's children think this is funny. They say Father is 'goofy' or 'awkward.' Clearly, they are not paying attention.

Yes, sometimes Father trips over his own feet or forgets important dates (Mother never lets him live that down), but those are small things. Trivial. Infinitesimal. Anyone can make such mistakes. What matters is that Father is kind and strong. He listens when we speak. He treats all of us as if we are the most important people in the world.

That is what makes him a hero.

Mama Ruby says I put Father on a pedestal. That may be true, but is there anything wrong with looking up to the greatest Huntsman in all of Remnant?

I will admit, I do feel somewhat...territorial. Especially when Mama Ruby and Mommy Pyrrha sit too close to him during family gatherings. As his eldest, I believe it is my place to stand beside him. They already share a bed for nightly cuddles. Unfair. Sometimes I offer to help him in the kitchen, even though I know I am not particularly good at cooking. That's fine. I mostly pass him things and tell him about my day.

Father always listens. Even if he's busy, even if one of Mama Ruby's children is trying to climb on top of the refrigerator, he listens.

And that's why he's my favorite.

I know our family is unconventional. Mother is married to Father, but so are Mama Ruby and Mommy Pyrrha. I suppose this would be strange to other families, but it's normal to us. Mama Ruby is playful, and Mommy Pyrrha is gentle, but Mother is the one who keeps everyone in line. That's probably why Father looks at her the way he does. Sometimes I catch him staring at her when he thinks no one is watching. Mother will pretend not to notice, but I know she does.

I hope someone looks at me like that one day, but for now, I will remain where I belong - beside Father.

It is not easy being the eldest child in such a large family, but I accept this responsibility with pride. After all, someone must set a good example.

And if that also means being Father's favorite? Well, I can hardly be blamed for that. It's only natural."

(Excerpt from My Super Secret Diary, by Winter Arc, Age 10)

Domestic Bliss - Neo x Jaune Smut

Neopolitan was a lot of things. A psychopath, a murderer, a thief, and Baskin Qrow's most loyal customer. Tales of her exploits were whispered in awe and fear around Vale. She'd stolen things that were deemed impossible, left Huntsmen and Huntresses broken on their knees, and found the secret 32nd flavor (they could hide nothing from her!). She'd made her mark on Vale and ensured they would never forget her long after she was dead and buried. And that was assuming she didn't find the secret to immortality. She was getting there.

Roman helped too, of course. He was her partner, the family she never had (Mr and Mrs. Vanille did not count), but they both knew she was doing the heavy lifting in their partnership. While he was out there making scenes, drawing attention, and being the 'gentleman thief', she was the one doing the dirty, bloody work. Not that she minded, of course. Neo had a flair for the dramatic, but she preferred fear to love. Let Roman have his fans. She liked scaring the shit out of Junior and his lackeys more than getting showered with squealing fangirls.

Of course, there were rumors about her. Who was Neopolitan, really? Some said she was an Atlesian super soldier. Others said she wasn't one person but many (as if someone else could be as fabulous as her). She let the rumors stew for her own amusement. She loved seeing what theories they came up with on what she did during her off-time. Some people thought she lounged around in a Mistral villa, others thought she was secretly training a school full of Neos to cause chaos in the next few decades. One particular poster insisted that she was secretly running Vale and pulling the strings of the Council. That was a fun one.

All of them couldn't have been further from the truth.

Neo stepped into her modest apartment, her (non-multicolored) hair fluttering in the wind. As much as she would've loved to say she looked effortlessly flawless all the time, that wasn't the truth. Her outfits and looks were eye-catching, but it would've made the downtime between heists an absolute bitch if she did look like that normally. So while she was the multicolored Neopolitan while out with Roman, during her breaks, she was just Neo, the normal woman who loved ice cream and watched slasher movies when she wanted a laugh.

And more importantly, she was the woman with the best boyfriend on Remnant.

Neo sniffed the air and smiled at the smell of sizzling spaghetti in the air. The apartment was small enough that it only took a few steps to see into the kitchen. There, standing with his back towards her, was Jaune. Her boyfriend - lover, light of her life, boytoy - hummed to himself as he cooked, an off-key tune that would've sounded annoying if it was literally anyone but him doing it. On his ears were a pair of dull white earbuds that made him blissfully unaware of everything around him.

Neo licked her lips and silently padded over to where he stood. She waited until he turned the stove off (she wasn't a monster) before she wrapped her arms around him, "W-Woah!" Jaune yelped. He tried to turn around, but she hugged him tighter and pressed her face against the soft, warm surface of his hoodie, "Neo? You surprised me!"

She giggled under her breath, refusing to let go even when he tried to turn around and greet her. She breathed in deeply, relishing the smell of his soap and the lingering food in the air. People thought she was drinking wine at some villa in the countryside somewhere, but they couldn't have been further from the truth. This was paradise, she thought. Her own little place with Jaune waiting at home for her with warm food and an even warmer smile.

Jaune laughed, the sound soft and melodic, and finally decided that he wasn't gonna stop her. Good, "Alright, fine. Hard day at work, I'm guessing?"

She waved her hand in a 'so-so' gesture. They both knew sign language, but they were familiar enough with each other that they didn't need to talk. He could read her like an open book. Well, mostly. He had no idea what her real job was. As far as he knew, she was the secretary of some secretive businessman who didn't want his identity going public. He was sad he couldn't surprise her at work with muffins, but she said it was for the best. It gave her a fat paycheck.

Jaune got two plates of food ready, but before he could set them down on the table, Neo dragged him to the couch. She set the plates on their laps and cuddled up to him, turning on the television to some cheesy slasher movie. She was never one for romance films (unless the actors got hot and heavy) and Jaune liked horror movies too. From what he told her, horror movies were banned outside the walls. Fear tended to bring Grimm sniffing. She couldn't imagine living without her horror schlock.

"You know, we really need to eat properly at the table..." Jaune said, though he didn't argue.

The slasher movie blared on the television, all screams, bad CGI blood, and the kind of over-the-top acting Neo lived for. A camp counselor stumbled into a cabin, oblivious to the masked killer looming in the background, brandishing a chainsaw. Neo curled her lip into a smug little grin. Amateurs. She could've cleared out that camp in half the time and with infinitely more style. She probably would've been scarier than some guy in a hockey mask too.

Her head rested comfortably on Jaune's shoulder, and her legs were tucked up under her, curling into his warmth like a satisfied cat. She felt him jump slightly when the killer burst through the door, revving his chainsaw, but Neo only giggled silently. If he thought this was scary, he should try sneaking into a heavily guarded mansion to steal a priceless artifact with nothing but a dagger (Hush was in the shop) and her Semblance.

As the movie played on, her thoughts drifted, as they often did, to the one beside her. Jaune Arc, her dorky, oblivious boyfriend, who had somehow wormed his way into her life and her heart. It still baffled her sometimes. How in Remnant had this boy - this tall, gangly, naive boy - managed to capture her attention?

She could still remember the day they'd met. Oh, what a mess that had been. Neo chuckled softly, shaking her head. Jaune looked down at her, curious, but she just waved him off. No need to interrupt his movie time with the tale of how he had been a complete and utter disaster back then.

Not that he'd changed much, but that was fine. Neo loved him this way.

It had been one of those rare days when she was on a break from her usual spree of chaos. She'd been sitting on a bench at the airship docks, enjoying a cone of strawberry ice cream, when she spotted him. He was standing there, holding a crumpled piece of paper that she now realized must have been his fake transcripts. He looked so out of place in the sea of confident students boarding the airship to Beacon - a nervous wreck with his oversized sword clattering awkwardly against his back.

Neo hadn't thought much of him at first. Just another wannabe Huntsman trying to play with the big kids. Propaganda was a hell of a thing. But as the minutes dragged on, it became clear that this one was special. Special in the pathetic way. The woman checking transcripts for the airship had practically laughed in his face. She didn't even try to hide it. Neo had been far enough away that she couldn't hear the exchange, but the way his shoulders slumped and his head drooped told her everything she needed to know. His pass to Beacon had been nothing more than a cheap counterfeit.

She could've left it at that. It wasn't her business. But something about him had caught her attention. Maybe it was the way he shuffled awkwardly to the side, muttering apologies to students as they brushed past him, completely ignoring his existence (well, except for one girl with white hair who looked at him like he was a bug under her shoe). Or maybe it was the way he sat on a bench after being turned away, staring down at his ridiculous sword with an expression that wasn't quite sad, but wasn't hopeful either. He'd looked...lost. Like he didn't know where to go from there.

Neo had strolled over, still licking her ice cream, just to get a closer look. There'd been something almost charming about his complete lack of guile, his open-book demeanor. He wasn't like the usual people she dealt with - the ones with agendas, the ones who thought they were clever enough to outsmart her right before Hush's tip jabbed at their throat. No, this boy was painfully, hilariously straightforward. She'd sat down beside him and tilted her head, raising an eyebrow as if to say, What's your deal?

To her surprise, he'd started talking. He rambled nervously about his dream of becoming a Huntsman, how his family didn't believe in him, how he'd thought this was his big chance to prove them all wrong. He didn't even seem to care that she wasn't responding, didn't even flinch at her pink eyes or the gleam of her parasol. He just...talked.

And she'd listened.

When he finally ran out of steam, he looked at her with a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry," he'd said, "I don't know why I dumped all that on you. You probably don't care."

She hadn't responded, of course, but she'd smirked and held out her ice cream cone. An offering. He'd blinked at her, confused, before hesitantly taking it, "Uh...thanks?" he'd said, looking like he wasn't sure if he should eat it or run. She halfway expected him to blush about indirect kisses.

Neo had left after that, her curiosity satisfied. But she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. There was something about his sincerity, his hopeless optimism, that stuck with her. And when she'd run into him again - by sheer coincidence, she swears - she couldn't resist toying with him a little more. Something about the embarrassed look on his face made her heart flutter. Like seeing a dog's face scrunch up when you poked its nose.

Neo's grin widened as the memories played out in her mind. Who would've thought that awkward, rejected boy at the airship docks would end up here, cooking her dinner and snuggling with her on the couch? Life was funny like that. She glanced up at Jaune, who was completely engrossed in the movie, and poked his side playfully.

"Hey!" he said, laughing as he tried to squirm away from her, "What was that for?"

Neo just shrugged, her smile widening. He had no idea how lucky he was to have her. But then again, she supposed she was pretty lucky too.

She settled deeper into Jaune's side, her gaze half-focused on the screen where the masked slasher continued his rampage. The counselor was now screaming and running in circles, bloodied but inexplicably still alive. Neo rolled her eyes. How do you miss someone that much with a chainsaw? Pathetic.

She glanced up at Jaune. His brow was furrowed, his lips slightly parted in concentration as he watched the scene unfold, completely invested in the cheesy carnage. She smirked. He was too pure for this nonsense, but she loved how he tried to keep up with her quirks.

Neo wasn't exactly swimming in trustworthy people. Her life was a revolving door of crooks, killers, and schemers - people who'd stab you in the back for a bigger slice of the pie. Even Roman, her partner-in-crime and closest thing to family, had his moments of self-serving charm. She loved him in her own way, but he lied to her. That was okay; she lied to him too sometimes. Nothing dangerous for the other, but lies all the same. Everyone in her line of work had an angle. Everyone was lying about something.

Jaune was...different. And not in the way that made her roll her eyes and scoff at someone's desperate attempts to stand out. No, he was genuinely different from anyone she'd ever known. He wasn't a liar - well, not a good one, anyway. She'd caught him fibbing before, but it was always so clumsy and obvious that it made her laugh instead of getting mad. He wasn't like Roman, who spun lies like a spider weaved webs, or any of the other criminals she'd worked with, who treated the truth like a very optional suggestion.

And he wasn't obsessed with proving himself either. No constant bragging, no posturing, no I'm the biggest badass in the room, and everyone else can bow down. That kind of nonsense had driven her up the wall during her time with Roman's "business associates." It was exhausting, being around people who measured their worth by how intimidating or conniving they could be. Roman had been the only exception, and even he liked to puff out his chest a little too much sometimes.

But Jaune? Jaune was just...Jaune. A dork with a heart too big for his own good, who didn't know when to shut up but somehow made it endearing. He was sweet and honest in a way that felt like a breath of fresh air in her otherwise polluted life. She could trust him, and that wasn't something she gave away lightly. Hell, she'd been stabbed in the back so many times she was practically a pincushion. Trust wasn't a luxury she afforded most people. The only one she gave that to was Roman.

But Jaune? She'd trust him with her life, even if he could still barely use that sword of his.

Neo's lips twitched into a small smile. She was a bad bitch - the bad bitch, to hear some people tell it. A liar, a thief, a killer...and yet here she was, curled up with her dork of a boyfriend, watching a terrible horror movie and feeling more at peace than she ever thought possible. She didn't deserve this, not by a long shot, but that didn't mean she'd give it up. The world wasn't fair. So what if she didn't deserve a happy ending? She'd still take it.

He was innocent, and she loved that about him. The world hadn't tainted him the way it had her. He didn't have blood on his hands, didn't have skeletons in his closet rattling to get out. He was her anchor, her one connection to something good and wholesome in a world that had otherwise shown her nothing but cruelty and she'd been just as cruel back.

She nudged him with her elbow, earning a curious look, "What's up?" he asked, his voice warm and tinged with concern, "You okay?"

Neo smirked and shrugged, leaning her head back against his shoulder. She was fine. Better than fine, really. But she wasn't about to say that out loud. Let him figure it out on his own - he usually did. For now, she was content to enjoy the movie, the warmth of his presence, and the quiet knowledge that, somehow, she'd managed to snag herself the one decent person in this godforsaken world.

She'd kill anyone who tried to take him from her.

Neo reclined on the couch, her head resting against Jaune's shoulder as the credits for the slasher movie rolled on the television. Their empty plates sat on the coffee table in front of them, forgotten as she basked in the warmth of his presence. He looked so content, so peaceful, stretched out next to her with his legs splayed lazily, his arm draped along the back of the couch like he didn't have a care in the world.

Too peaceful.

Neo's lips curled into a conniving smirk as she shifted slightly, her eyes glinting with mischief. She turned her gaze up to him, watching as he absentmindedly fiddled with the remote, debating what to watch next. She loved how relaxed he was, but she loved shaking him out of that comfort even more.

Without a sound, she slipped her hand under the blanket they'd draped over their laps. Jaune didn't notice at first, too distracted by his indecision between two cheesy horror sequels, until her fingers brushed against the waistband of his jeans. He froze, "N-Neo?" His voice cracked slightly, and he glanced down at her with wide, startled eyes. She didn't answer, of course. She rarely needed to. Her smirk said everything as her fingers deftly slipped past the fabric, cupping him through the thin barrier of his boxers.

Jaune jumped, his entire body stiffening under her touch, "H-Hey, what are you-" His words dissolved into a shaky breath as her hand moved with deliberate precision, teasing him in slow, calculated strokes. She felt his dick harden beneath her palm, his body betraying him despite the flustered protests that tumbled from his lips. He always protested and he always gave up. It was like he knew she enjoyed turning his protests into pleas for more.

"Neo..." he whispered, his tone caught somewhere between pleading and surrender. He glanced toward the TV, as if the empty room were suddenly full of eyes watching them, "W-We're on the couch..."

She tilted her head up at him, her smirk widening as if to say, And? It was her couch, she could do whatever and whoever she wanted on it. She adored the way his blush deepened, spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He was always so adorably shy when she took control, and it only made her want to push him further.

Her hand slipped fully into his boxers now, fingers wrapping around his erect cock. Jaune let out a shaky gasp, his head falling back against the couch as she began to stroke him in earnest. She didn't rush, savoring every twitch, every hitch in his breath, every futile attempt to suppress the soft sounds escaping him. His cheeks were flushed and she was hypnotized by the way his his adam's apple bobbed, trying to hold back his moans.

Jaune's hand gripped the edge of the couch like it was a lifeline, his knuckles whitening as he fought to hold himself together, "Neo," he groaned, his voice trembling with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, "I-I can't...the plates...the- "

Neo rolled her eyes playfully, her free hand coming up to press a single finger against his lips. Shhh, it told him. There was no room for protest, not that she ever allowed it. Her strokes quickened just enough to elicit another soft, broken moan from him, and she grinned at the way his body shivered in response.

She loved this. The power she had over him, the way she could unravel him so effortlessly, so completely. He was hers in every sense of the word, and moments like this made her savor that fact. It wasn't just about the physical intimacy - though she thoroughly enjoyed that - it was about the trust, the vulnerability he showed her. She was a bad person, a terrible person, but with Jaune? She could be soft, playful, even tender. And he let her.

"Neo..." he tried again, his voice barely above a whisper now, but she silenced him with another firm stroke, her thumb brushing teasingly against the tip that was already leaking pre. His hips bucked involuntarily, and she grinned as she felt him trembling under her touch.

She wasn't going to stop - not until she had him completely undone. But this wasn't the end goal. No, this was just the beginning. She could feel his restraint crumbling, his body betraying his every attempt to hold back, and it thrilled her. When he finally broke, when he gave in to her completely, she would have him exactly where she wanted him.

Her hand slowed slightly, teasing him just enough to keep him on edge, before she leaned up to press her lips against his jaw. He gasped at the contact, his head tilting instinctively to give her better access. She nipped at the sensitive skin there, her teeth grazing lightly, and felt his breath hitch once more. She kissed her way up to his lips and then slipped her tongue into his mouth, biting and sucking hungrily, trying to draw more and more sounds from him.

"You're impossible," he muttered when she pulled back for air, his voice low and breathless, but she could hear the affection laced in his tone. She just smirked against his neck, her hand never faltering as she continued her relentless assault.

By the time she was done with him, there would be no peace left on this couch. Only Jaune, completely at her mercy. Neo's smirk only grew wider as she felt Jaune trembling under her touch, his breath hitching and his body shifting restlessly against the couch. She adored the blush that painted his cheeks, the soft, broken sounds he made as he tried and failed to hold himself back. He was such an open book, so easily unraveled under her skilled hands, and it thrilled her to no end.

But then, something shifted. Jaune's hand shot up, gripping her shoulder with surprising firmness, and before she could fully register what was happening, he moved. In one fluid motion, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him with a mix of urgency and determination that made her heart race.

Neo let out a soft, surprised gasp, quickly followed by a shudder of pure excitement. Her mismatched eyes widened slightly before narrowing in delighted mischief, her lips curling into a knowing grin. She loved dominating Jaune, bending him to her will with just a look or a touch, but there was something equally intoxicating about moments like this - when his restraint snapped and he took control.

She cooed softly, tilting her head back against the couch as she gazed up at him, her petite frame dwarfed by his imposing presence. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders blocking out the dim light from the TV, his blond hair messy and his blue eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a thrill down her spine. The size difference between them was stark, and Neo found herself reveling in it. Where she was small and compact, barely reaching his chest when they stood side by side, Jaune was all height and muscle, towering over her with an effortless strength that made her shiver. The training she gave him was doing wonders.

His hands were steady now, his earlier hesitation gone as he held her in place. She felt her pulse quicken as he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "If you're going to tease me like that, Neo, you better be ready for what comes next."

Oh, she was ready. More than ready. Her breath hitched as he pulled back just enough to start shimmying out of his jeans and boxers, his movements deliberate but no less urgent. Her eyes flicked downward, and when he finally kicked the last of his clothes to the floor, she couldn't stop the soft, appreciative hum that escaped her lips.

Nine inches. Every time she saw him like this, it was a reminder of just how much there was to Jaune Arc. His size was intimidating in the best way, his cock standing proudly against his toned stomach, already flushed and throbbing with need. For someone as small as she was, the sight alone was exhilarating, and her mind raced with possibilities as she took him in.

She licked her lips, her eyes shining with excitement as she shifted slightly beneath him. Her hands came up to trail over his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles with featherlight touches that made him shiver. She ghosted her fingertips over his nipples, her smirk widening as her hands slid lower, teasing him even further. The size difference between them was delicious, and she relished every second of it.

Jaune leaned down, caging her in with his arms as his lips found hers, capturing her in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. She melted against him, her petite frame practically disappearing beneath his larger one as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. She could feel him, hot and hard against her, and it sent a wave of anticipation coursing through her.

"Neo..." he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with barely restrained desire. She shuddered at the sound, her hands slipping down to his hips to urge him forward. She always enjoyed seeing this side of him: the Jaune who let go of his inhibitions, who stopped worrying about whether he was doing things right and just took her.

As he shifted his weight, positioning himself against her, Neo's smirk softened into something more affectionate, though no less teasing. She reached up, her fingers brushing against his jaw as she gave him a look that said, What are you waiting for?

Neo's eyes gleamed with excitement as she gazed up at Jaune, her smirk never faltering. He was still hovering over her, his broad shoulders and toned body casting a shadow over her smaller frame. She loved the way he looked at her in moments like this, his usual shy demeanor replaced with something raw and commanding. It sent a thrill down her spine, made her heart race in a way she would've admitted out loud if she could talk.

She shuddered in delight as Jaune continued to lean over her, his towering frame casting her petite one in shadow. She adored this dynamic, the way he could so easily envelop her with his sheer size and strength when he let go of his usual hesitation. And tonight, it seemed, he wasn't holding back at blue eyes locked onto hers, his voice low and commanding in a way that made her want more.

"Get on your knees, Neo," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument, "Suck it."

Her smirk widened immediately. Without hesitation, Neo slid off the couch, her movements fluid and feline as she settled on her knees between his spread legs. The size difference between them was even more pronounced now, with Jaune towering above her, his impressive cock just inches from her face, the smell of his musk hitting her at full force. She licked her lips, her mismatched eyes flicking up to meet his as her hands came up to rest lightly on his thighs.

For a moment, she just took him in, savoring the sight of him. His flushed skin, his chest rising and falling with anticipation, the way he looked down at her with a mix of dominance and barely-contained desire. She loved knowing she could bring out this side of him, that she could push him to take control, to demand what he wanted without holding back. The Jaune who was putty in her hands and the one who ordered her around. She adored them both.

Neo leaned forward, pressing a featherlight kiss to the tip of his cock, her eyes never leaving his. She enjoyed teasing him, watching the way his jaw tightened and his hands flexed at his sides as he fought to stay composed. But this time, she wouldn't make him wait too long. She wanted this as much as he did.

Her lips parted, and she took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling over the sensitive head before sliding lower. She moaned softly around him, the sound vibrating against his skin as she began to move, her pace slow and deliberate. She wanted to savor every moment, to feel the way he twitched and throbbed against her tongue, the way his hands finally found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he guided her movements.

Jaune let out a shaky breath, his hips jerking slightly as she took him deeper, "Neo..." he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. She smirked around him, adoring the way her name came out as both a plea and a command.

Her hands joined in, one stroking the base of his cock in time with her movements, the other sliding up to rest against his hip for thigh. She was fully focused on him now, her eyes fluttering closed as she lost herself in the rhythm, in the way he filled her mouth, in the sounds he made as she worked him over.

"Good girl," Jaune murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill racing through her. The praise only spurred her on and she quickened her pace, her tongue and lips working him with practiced precision. His grip on her hair tightened slightly, and she felt him tense, his breathing growing heavier as she pushed him closer to the edge. But she wasn't ready for him to finish just yet. She wanted to draw this out, to savor every moment of having him at her mercy.

Reluctantly, she pulled back, letting him slip from her mouth with a soft pop. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips swollen and glistening, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth as she caught her breath. She reached up, her fingers curling around his length as she stroked him slowly, teasingly.

'Not done yet,' she mouthed silently, her eyes glinting with wicked amusement. Jaune groaned, his hands flexing against her scalp as he tried to regain control of himself. She wasn't stopping until he was completely undone, until he had nothing left to give her. And judging by the way he looked down at her, his blue eyes dark with need, he was more than ready for it.

Neo didn't miss a beat, taking him back into her mouth with practiced ease. Her lips stretched around his thick cock as she moved in a steady, deliberate rhythm, savoring the way he filled her completely, the taste of his dick lingering on her tongue. She lived for moments like this, when the power dynamic shifted between them at the drop of a hat. Her fingers gripped his thighs as she worked, and though her body trembled with excitement, she kept her focus entirely on him.

Jaune, for his part, didn't hold back. His hands tightened in her hair, pulling just hard enough to sting, and she shivered at the roughness. He wasn't asking anymore - he was taking, guiding her movements as he thrust gently into her mouth. Neo's heart raced as she relished the way he lost himself in her, his groans and hitched breaths filling the room. He sounded like an animal in heat.

"Take it all, Neo," he muttered, his voice rough and commanding, making her moan around him. The vibration only seemed to spur him on, his grip on her hair tightening as he pushed her down further. She complied eagerly, letting him control her pace as she relaxed her throat, taking him deeper until her nose was pressed against his groin. One of the first things she told him before they fucked for the first time was that she didn't have a gag reflex. Oh, she didn't miss the way his dick twitched at that.

The size and the heat of him drove her wild. Her nails dug into his thighs as he kept her there for a moment, savoring the way her throat clenched around him before letting her pull back just enough to catch her breath. Strings of saliva connected her lips to his cock as she gazed up at him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes full of pure adoration. The only pure thing about her, really.

Jaune's gaze locked onto hers, and for a moment, the intensity between them was electric. Then, with a growl, he pulled her back down, guiding her with firm hands as he began to move again. His hips thrust forward in tandem with the pull of her mouth, and Neo couldn't stop the muffled moans that escaped her, even as tears pricked the corners of her eyes from the sheer force of it.

He was close now; she could feel it in the way his movements grew more urgent, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps, "Neo...I'm gonna-" he trailed off, his words dissolving into a broken groan as he held her head firmly in place, pushing her down to the base.

When he came, he buried himself deep, the warmth of his release flooding her mouth. Neo moaned softly, her tongue moving against him as she swallowed greedily, savoring every drop. She made a point to look him in the eyes the entire time, her gaze steady and full of satisfaction as she worked her throat to take all of him. The taste of his seed - the slightly bittersweet flavor - was a familiar one, and yet she never got tired of it.

Jaune's grip on her hair didn't loosen until he was completely spent, his body trembling as he finally let her pull back. Neo swallowed the last of him with a soft, contented hum, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk as she licked him clean. Her tonge lapped at the underside of his still-erect cock, the pillar of cockmeat hanging across her face it belonged there. To think, this was the same guy who'd been so shy less than an hour ago.

She sat back on her heels, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she tilted her head up to meet his gaze once more, "Damn it, Neo," Jaune muttered, his voice hoarse as he looked down at her, a mixture of awe and disbelief in his eyes, "You're...unbelievable."

She grinned silently, reaching up to tug at his wrist, encouraging him to lean down toward her. When he did, she pulled him into a kiss (Jaune didn't mind, another thing she loved about him), her lips warm and soft against his as if to remind him exactly who he belonged to. She might've been on her knees for him, but they both knew she was always in control - except for when she let him take it, Andd oh, how she relished it when he did.

Neo pulled back slightly, her grin turning wicked as her fingers trailed down his chest, her touch light and teasing. She wasn't done with him yet. Not even close. She rose slowly to her feet, the predatory gleam in her eyes fixed on Jaune. He was still catching his breath, leaning back against the couch, his flushed skin glistening faintly in the dim light. She enjoyed seeing him like this - disheveled, undone, and completely at her mercy.

But now it was time to take things further.

Her smirk deepened as she reached for the hem of her sweater, tugging it up and over her head with a slow, deliberate motion that sent his eyes following her every move. She relished the way his gaze darkened, his hands twitching at his sides as though he was fighting the urge to reach out and pull her back down to him. She shook her head, her lips puckerd. She wasn't going to make this easy for him. Not yet.

Piece by piece, Neo undressed, letting each article of clothing fall to the floor with languid grace. Her pants slid down her hips, leaving her in nothing but her underwear, a sensual pair of dark lace that had his cock throbbing with want. She licked her lips slowly, taking the two last pieces of fabric away to expose her breasts and lower lips. She stood before him completely bare, her petite, voluptuous frame on full display, a picture of confident, unapologetic sensuality.

Jaune's eyes roamed over her, his lips parted as though he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. She shuddered at his look - the raw, unfiltered hunger in his gaze, the way he seemed mesmerized by her every move. It was a silent reminder that she held all the power, even when she was the one standing completely bare.

With deliberate care, she climbed back onto the couch, reclining against the cushions as she stretched herself out. Her legs spread slowly, invitingly, her hands trailing down her body to rest just above the apex of her thighs. Her eyes locked onto Jaune's, the invitation clear in her gaze, her smirk widening as if to say, Come and get me.

Jaune didn't need to be told twice.

He moved with a sense of urgency now, his earlier fatigue completely gone. His hands were on her in an instant, gripping her thighs as he positioned himself between them. She shivered under his touch, her breath hitching as his fingers dug into her soft skin, his strength and size a delicious contrast to her own petite frame.

"Neo," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He leaned over her, his body towering over hers as his lips found hers in another heated, desperate kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer, urging him on. He guided himself to her entrance, his eyes searching hers for a moment of silent confirmation. Her smirk softened, and she gave a small, deliberate nod, her hips shifting toward him in encouragement.

That was all he needed.

Jaune pressed into her slowly, inch by inch, his cock stretching her in a way that made her gasp, her nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him. The heat and size of him filled her completely, and she couldn't stop the moan that escaped her lips as he finally bottomed out, his hips flush against hers.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both lost in the overwhelming sensation of being so intimately connected. Then, with a soft groan, Jaune began to push, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, building a steady rhythm that left her trembling beneath him.

Neo's head tilted back against the couch, her body arching to meet his every movement. Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper, and she let out a series of soft, breathy moans that only seemed to spur him on. He gripped her hips firmly, his pace quickening as he lost himself in her, his restraint slipping further with every thrust.

She loved this - loved the way he took her with such raw, unrestrained passion, the way he filled her completely and left her breathless. Her hands roamed over his back, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as she clung to him, her body moving in perfect sync with his.

"Mmm..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with affection and desire. He groaned in response, his lips finding her neck as he pressed fevered kisses against her skin, his hips driving into her with increasing urgency.

Neo's smirk returned, even as her body shuddered beneath him. This was exactly what she wanted, exactly what she needed. And judging by the way he held her so tightly, the way he moved with such determination, she knew he felt the same.

Jaune's movements became more erratic, his pace quickening as he lost himself in the overwhelming heat and closeness between them. Neo felt every powerful thrust, her body arching to meet his, her legs tightening around his waist as she urged him deeper. Her nails raked lightly down his back, leaving faint, red trails on his flushed skin.

She was in bliss - pure, unfiltered bliss. Every inch of her body hummed with pleasure, and she relished every second of Jaune's focus, the way his hands gripped her hips like she was the only thing grounding him, the way he whispered her name like a prayer between gasping breaths. He wasn't just having her; he was cherishing her, and that made all the difference.

"Neo..." he groaned, his voice low and thick with desire. She opened her eyes - half-lidded and clouded with pleasure - and smirked up at him, her expression one of pure satisfaction. Her hands cupped his face, pulling him down for another kiss as he continued to move inside her. She could feel him reaching his limit, his movements becoming more desperate, and the thought sent another shiver of excitement through her.

She leaned up against his ear and moaned, shameless and loud. The sound was the last straw. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself insider her completely, his hips pressing firmly against hers as he let out a low, guttural groan. Neo gasped, her head tilting back against the cushions as she felt the warmth of him spilling inside her. It was a safe day, and she knew there was nothing to worry about, so she let herself bask in the sensation, in the intimacy of the moment.

She felt his cock twitch as he unloaded everything he had, coating her inner walls white with his seed. She shut her eyes tight and focused on the sensation as she came too, spilling her own cum against the couch under them both. She'd need to buy a new one. This was the third time this week they'd done it here.

Her body trembled beneath him, her legs still wrapped tightly around his waist as her fingers gripped his shoulders. A soft, blissful groan escaped her lips, and she found herself drooling slightly as her head lolled to the side, her eyes half-lidded and hazy. She looked utterly wrecked, completely undone, and she loved it. She loved him.

Jaune leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath. His hands loosened their grip on her hips, sliding up to cradle her face gently, his thumbs brushing against her flushed cheeks, "Neo," he murmured, his voice soft and full of warmth, "I...I love you so damn much."

Her smirk softened, and she reached up to brush his hair out of his face, her fingers threading through the messy, sweaty blond strands. She didn't need words to respond; the look in her eyes said everything. She loved him too. More than she ever thought she could love anyone besides Roman. Jaune was different. Roman was her family, her partner-in-crime. But Jaune? He was her anchor, living proof that she wasn't just Neopolitan, the chaos bringer of Vale. She could love and be loved.

Jaune pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, each one slow and lingering, as if he was savoring every second with her. Neo's arms slipped around his neck, pulling him closer as she melted into him, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks of their passion.

For a while, they just stayed like that, tangled together on the couch, their breathing steadying as the world outside faded away. Neo hummed softly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back, her heart (and snatch...) full in a way she hadn't thought possible.

This was her Jaune. Her sweet, dorky, perfect Jaune. And in his arms, she felt safe, loved, and completely at peace. And if anyone tried to take him from her, she'd fucking destroy all of Vale to get him back. That was a promise.

RWBY Oneshots and Shorts Repository - Ruby and Weiss' Slashery Vacation

Shorter one. This one has Ruby and Weiss ending up in a slasher film. Except they have Aura while the killers don't. Cue curb stomp.

I've got two possible ideas based on some discussions on my discord. Not sure which one, though:

- Something similar to Chapter 1, except the twist is Jaune is trying hard to not be a harem protagonist rather than dying as a mob. He thinks harems are overrated and too much trouble. This being Jaune, he fails and gets a harem despite his best efforts.

- Ruby figures out the key to world peace: have every Huntress in Remnant date Jaune! She's dating Jaune and she's happy, so clearly, the solution to all these problems is for everyone to get a piece of Jaune! She starts by convincing Weiss. First her bestie, then the world!

Patreon Note - I'm writing a soft/fluffy Jaune x Neo smut for Dedicated Readers. I imagine that it'll be a good palate cleanser from all the non-con in the past few exclusives.

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Ruby couldn't help but feel a tingle of excitement as the beat-up van rattled down the dirt road, its suspension groaning in protest with every bump. Sure, it wasn't her typical idea of a vacation, but sometimes you had to step outside your comfort zone, right? And with Crescent Rose and Myrtenaster back at Beacon for tuning, Weiss had insisted they take a short trip to 'unwind'. Ruby agreed. Some personal time with her bestie sounded awesome!

"This is not unwinding," Weiss muttered, her arms crossed tightly as she glared out the window at the dense forest surrounding them. Her pristine white outfit was painfully out of place against the grimy interior of the van, and the smell of stale snacks and spilled drinks wasn't helping her mood.

"It's fun!" Ruby chirped from her seat, trying to stay optimistic, "It's, uh, rustic! You don't get places like this in Atlas, right?"

"Because Atlas has standards," Weiss replied sharply, wrinkling her nose as the van hit another pothole and sent her bouncing against the threadbare seat, "Why did I agree to this again?"

Ruby grinned sheepishly, "Because you promised to give this a shot, and it's only for a weekend! Besides, the brochure said it's got 'a classic charm'." Despite her looks, Ruby loved camping out and stuff. You don't survive in a place like Patch without knowing how to rough it.

Weiss snorted, "I doubt that includes functioning plumbing."

Ruby leaned over and pointed ahead, "Look, we're almost there!"

The forest opened up to reveal a decrepit lodge that looked like it had been dragged out of a bad horror movie. The building sagged visibly in the middle, the paint peeled in long strips, and an old sign creaked above the door, faintly spelling out Rustwood Inn. Or at least, she assumed it meant that. The faded letters made it spell out R_s_w_od _nn inn instead, "This is where we die," Weiss said flatly, clutching her bag like a lifeline.

The van screeched to a halt, and the driver, a gruff man with a beer gut and a patchy beard, turned back to them with a grin that was missing more than a few teeth, "Welcome to Rustwood, ladies! You'll love it here. Ain't nothin' like it in all a Saunus!"

Ruby and Weiss climbed out, and their fellow travelers - if you could call them that - followed suit. There was the muscular guy in a tank top who immediately started flexing and making offhand comments about his gym routine. The girl in the crop top and shorts giggled and twirled her hair, clearly hanging on every word the muscular guy said. A tall, quiet man with glasses and a notebook seemed to be writing down everything, muttering to himself about 'good material'.

"Why does this feel like we've stepped into the most cliché setup imaginable?" Weiss whispered to Ruby, eyeing the group with suspicion.

The van driver clapped his hands together, "Alright, everyone! I'll be back to pick y'all up Sunday afternoon. Y'all behave now, and don't go wandering too far. Forest ain't always friendly."

Ruby turned to Weiss with a nervous laugh, "Okay, that wasn't ominous at all."

Weiss rolled her eyes, "Let's just get this over with."

Inside, the lodge wasn't much better. The air smelled faintly of mildew, the furniture looked like it hadn't been cleaned in decades, and the receptionist, an older woman with a deep scowl and a cigarette dangling from her lips, gave them a once-over that made Ruby squirm, "Room's upstairs. Don't leave your trash around," the woman grunted, sliding them a rusted key without looking up from her crossword. She let out a hacking cough that shook the walls.

Ruby and Weiss exchanged a look.

"Charming," Weiss muttered.

The day continued and Ruby tried to keep things positive, despite Weiss's constant critiques and the increasingly strange behavior of their companions. The muscular guy kept challenging everyone to arm wrestling matches; the girl in the crop top wouldn't stop talking about her social media following, even though they clearly didn't have signal out here; and the notebook guy vanished for long stretches, muttering something about 'immersion'.

Dinner was served at a long, uneven table by the receptionist and a man who Ruby assumed was her husband - a wiry, hunched figure with sunken eyes and a perpetually sour expression. They didn't say much, but their glances lingered just a little too long, especially when someone asked about the scratches on the walls or the faint brown stains on the floorboards.

"Don't mind the mess," the receptionist said with a wave of her cigarette, "Place is old. It's got history."

"Sure does," the muscular guy said, shoveling food into his mouth like he'd never seen a fork before.

Weiss leaned toward Ruby, keeping her voice low, "Doesn't this seem a little...off to you?"

Ruby shrugged, "It's not great, but maybe that's just the vibe they're going for? You know, like an old-timey lodge?" She grew up at a cabin in the woods. She was pretty used to places like this.

"Old-timey doesn't mean creepy." Weiss stabbed her fork into a questionable piece of meat and frowned, "I don't trust this place, and I blame you and your stupid puppy dog eyes for dragging me here." Ruby hesitated. She couldn't deny that there was something about the lodge - and its caretakers - that felt off. Still, they had Aura, and even without their weapons, they weren't exactly defenseless. What was the worst that could happen?

That night, as the group settled into their rooms, Ruby lay on the creaky bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. Weiss was already tucked in, muttering about how she was going to burn her dress after this trip, "Hey, Weiss?" Ruby said softly.

"What?"

"You think this place is haunted?"

Weiss sighed heavily, "No. It's probably just run by lunatics who'll charge us far more than it's worth."

Ruby smiled faintly and closed her eyes. It wasn't long before sleep overtook her.

Outside the lodge, in the deep shadows of the forest, figures moved. Lumbering shapes with crude masks, heavy tools, and twisted grins. The door to the lodge creaked open, and the receptionist's husband emerged, nodding silently to the approaching group, "Everyone's settled in," he rasped, his voice like rust scraping metal, "It's time for the harvest."

The figures crept toward the lodge, dragging their weapons behind them. Their giddy chuckles were muffled by the wind as they prepared to begin their night of terror.

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The night erupted with the deafening roar of chainsaws, the shriek of power tools, and the gleeful cackling of slasher killers as the lodge's fragile peace shattered like glass. Ruby bolted upright in bed, her heart hammering in her chest as the sound of splintering wood filled the air.

Weiss shot her an annoyed glare from across the room, already halfway out of bed and looking thoroughly unamused, "What in the world is going on now?"

Before Ruby could respond, the door to their room was kicked open with a dramatic crash. A hulking figure stood silhouetted in the doorway, wielding a massive chainsaw that roared to life with a sputtering growl. The figure's crudely stitched mask and lumbering stance screamed slasher movie villain. And, like, not the good slasher movie villain. More like the kind you'd see direct-to-video stuff where the crew clearly didn't have the budget.

Ruby blinked, "Uh, Weiss?"

"Yes, Ruby?" Weiss said, already cracking her knuckles with an icy calm.

"Is...is this really happening?"

Weiss sighed, "Yes. And it's annoying."

The chainsaw-wielding man let out a guttural howl and charged. Ruby yelped, throwing herself to the side as the blade tore through the headboard of her bed, showering splinters everywhere, "Okay, I'll admit that's a little scary!" she shouted, rolling to her feet.

Weiss, however, remained perfectly still, her expression dripping with disdain. As the masked figure swung the chainsaw toward her, she casually sidestepped, letting the blade embed itself into the wall. Before the man could yank it free, Weiss delivered a sharp kick to his chest, sending him stumbling backward into the hallway, "Idiots," Weiss muttered, brushing her hands off. She put on her heels like a chainsaw guy hadn't just tried to kill them.

Ruby stared, "You just kicked a guy with a chainsaw."

Weiss glared at her, "Ruby, we have Aura. We routinely fight Grimm the size of houses. This man, judging from his reaction, does not have Aura. This is hardly a fair fight. Now put your shoes on unless you want to fight barefoot."

As they stepped into the hallway, chaos unfolded around them. The power had been cut, leaving the lodge bathed in flickering candlelight. The other would-be victims - the muscular guy, the giggly girl, and the notebook guy - were running in every direction, screaming as more masked figures chased them with an assortment of deadly tools. A hulking brute with a meat cleaver cornered the girl in the crop top, while another figure dragged a sledgehammer down the hall toward the muscular guy.

Ruby looked around, her silver eyes wide with disbelief, "Wow, this really is just like a slasher movie!"

Weiss grabbed her by the arm and pulled her forward, "And like every slasher movie you and Yang have forced me to watch, it's full of idiots on both sides. Let's just clean this up and go back to bed."

"Clean this up?" Ruby squeaked, "We don't even have our weapons!"

Weiss raised an eyebrow, "So? We still have Aura, and their 'weapons' are more rust than metal. They can't even hurt us."

Another masked killer lunged at them, brandishing a massive drill. Ruby yelped and ducked as the spinning bit whirred past her head. Instinct took over, and she swung her leg out, catching the attacker in the shin. To her amazement, the man crumpled instantly, groaning in pain as he hit the floor. Ruby blinked, staring down at her outstretched leg, "Did...Did I just beat someone without Crescent Rose?"

"Don't get used to it," Weiss said dryly, stepping over the groaning man.

Ruby grinned, her confidence building, "No, seriously! I'm actually good at this!" She turned and punched another would-be killer square in the mask, sending him flying into a nearby table and cracking his mask into little tiny pieces, "Did you see that? I actually hit him! And he stayed down!"

Weiss was busy dismantling her own opponent - a wiry man with a rusted hatchet - using nothing but well-placed kicks and the occasional shove. The man swung wildly at her, but Weiss dodged with ease, her movements sharp and precise. After a few seconds, she grabbed the hatchet mid-swing and yanked it out of his hands before slamming her knee into his stomach. The guy threw up a bit, and Weiss shrieked as bits of it landed on her skirt.

"You'll pay for that! Literally!" Weiss tossed the hatchet at another charging killer. It landed handle-first on her face and she flipped through the air twice before landing on a crumpled heap face-first on the ground.

Ruby clapped her hands together, "Weiss! You're winning a one-on-one! That never happens!"

Weiss froze, her eye twitching, "Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're usually great in teams, but, like, solo fights aren't your thing, right? Remember that chainsaw guy in the train? Then the fight with Flynt in the Vytal tournament?"

Weiss whipped around to glare at her, her pale cheeks flushing slightly, "Ruby, I will throw you at the next masked idiot I see if you don't shut up!" Ruby raised her hands in mock surrender, a cheeky grin plastered across her face.

The chaos continued, though it was increasingly clear that the so-called "killers" were hopelessly outmatched. One by one, Ruby and Weiss beat them down without even really trying. The hulking brute with the meat cleaver ended up sprawled unconscious in the hallway after Weiss smashed a chair over his head. The notebook guy, who had somehow gotten his foot stuck in a bucket, was rescued when Ruby dropkicked his attacker into a pile of broken furniture. She didn't even need to use her Semblance. Just, like, dropkick.

Eventually, the last of the masked figures stumbled toward the door, clutching his sledgehammer and wheezing heavily. Weiss stepped forward, her hands on her hips, "Are we done here?" she asked, her voice sharp and cutting.

The man charged towards them, screaming about a harvest. Ruby punched him in the gut and he crumpled to the ground, crying for his mommy, "Well, that was...weirdly easy." Ruby said, looking down at the wheezing old man. She almost felt bad.

Weiss sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Of course it was. These imbeciles thought they could take on Huntresses-in-training without any Aura and rusty tools."

Ruby nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah, that was kind of dumb. But also, did you see me punch that guy? Like, really punch him?"

"Yes, Ruby. Congratulations. Now shut up and help me drag these into a locked room so the others stop screaming."

As the chaos died down, the lodge began to settle into an uneasy quiet. The masked killers were sprawled across the floor or tied up with whatever Ruby and Weiss could scrounge - bedsheets, curtain cords, and one guy hogtied with his own suspenders. The would-be victims, meanwhile, were clustered together in varying states of disarray.

The muscular jock, somehow miraculously unscathed despite contributing absolutely nothing, puffed out his chest and swaggered toward Ruby and Weiss, "Well," he said, with a grin that made Weiss instantly regret surviving the night, "I guess you ladies owe me a thank-you. Couldn't have done it without me."

Ruby blinked, tilting her head, "Uh...what did you do, exactly?"

The jock smirked and crossed his arms, flexing for no apparent reason, "Kept their attention, obviously. Gave you the opening to take them down. Classic team effort, babe." He gave them a winning smile that would've made Cardin proud.

His girlfriend (Ruby assumed she was his girlfriend), still clutching his arm, nodded enthusiastically, "He was soooo brave! You should've seen him!"

Weiss's eye twitched. She took a step forward, brushing past Ruby and standing nose-to-nose with the jock, who immediately took a step back despite being a foot taller than her.

"Let me be perfectly clear," Weiss said, her voice icy enough to freeze the air around them, "You did nothing. We handled the attackers. We saved your sorry hides. And while normally I would not hold that against you given that you're a civilian, I will not have some...arrogant meathead claim credit that he didn't earn. So if you ever take credit for someone else's work again, I will personally see to it that you're buried in this wretched lodge's basement. Am I understood?"

The jock swallowed audibly, his bravado melting under Weiss's glare, "Uh...yeah. Totally. My bad."

Weiss turned away with a sharp huff, muttering under her breath about 'arrogant muscle-heads and 'the absolute nerve', "Don't you think you're being a bit hard on him? Like you said, they're civilians," Ruby said.

"I hate arrogant blowhards, Ruby, it doesn't matter if they're a civilian or not."

Before Ruby could chime in to defuse the tension, the lights flickered again.

The air seemed to grow heavier, and the faint sound of chains clinking echoed through the lodge. A new figure emerged from the shadows, hulking and monstrous, easily twice the size of the other killers. This one's mask was made of jagged scraps of metal, and he carried an enormous hammer that looked like it could level a small building. His labored breathing rasped through the room as he dragged the hammer behind him, gouging deep grooves into the floorboards.

The girlfriend screamed. The jock screamed louder. The glasses guy fainted on the spot, his notebook tumbling to the ground beside him.

Ruby gawked at the enormous figure, "Uh, Weiss? That one looks...bigger."

Weiss crossed her arms, utterly unimpressed, "It's still an idiot without Aura."

"What if he does have Aura?"

"There's two of us and we have Huntress training. I think we'll survive," Weiss said dryly.

The hulking killer let out a guttural roar and charged. The hammer swung wide, aiming straight for Weiss, but she didn't flinch. She sidestepped at the last possible second, letting the hammer crash into the floor, sending splinters flying everywhere.

"Predictable," Weiss muttered. The killer raised the hammer again, but Weiss darted forward, her movements sharp and precise. She delivered a swift kick to the back of his knee, forcing him to stumble. Before he could recover, she grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it over his head, the wooden frame splintering into pieces. Nope, no Aura flash. The big guy didn't have Aura either. What little nervousness Ruby had disappeared as she watched her partner go to town on the guy.

The killer staggered, groaning, and swung wildly with his hammer. Weiss ducked effortlessly, grabbing the chain wrapped around his shoulder (who the heck would wear chains as suspenders?) and yanking it hard. The killer tumbled forward, losing his balance, and Weiss planted her boot squarely against his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground with a resounding crash.

Ruby clapped excitedly from the sidelines, "Weiss! You're on fire tonight! That's another solo win! Weiss and Blake aren't gonna believe this!"

Weiss shot her an exasperated look as the killer groaned on the floor, clutching his head, "Ruby, shut up."

Ruby snickered, but her grin only widened, "I mean, I know we have Aura, but you're really making this look easy."

Weiss rolled her eyes and grabbed the hulking killer by the back of his mask, dragging him toward the growing pile of defeated attackers, "Because it is easy," she said flatly, "These morons don't understand what they're up against. I'd almost feel sorry for them if they weren't so insufferably stupid."

"And if they didn't kill a bunch of people before we showed up."

"Yes, Ruby, that too."

As Weiss dropped the hulking figure onto the pile, Ruby glanced around the room, surveying the aftermath, "Well, I guess that's everyone. Think they'll stay down this time?"

Weiss adjusted her sleeves and arched a brow, "If they don't, I have plenty of energy left to remind them why they should." The jock and his girlfriend stared at Weiss in wide-eyed silence, too stunned to comment. The glasses guy was still out cold.

Ruby grinned, nudging Weiss with her elbow, "So, still think this trip was a bad idea?"

Weiss groaned, "I hate you."

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The sun had risen by the time Ruby and Weiss finished tying the last of the defeated killers to an old, rickety flatbed truck they'd found behind the lodge. It creaked and groaned under the weight of the pile of unconscious and groaning bodies, looking like it might fall apart at any moment. The entire thing was a tetanus nightmare waiting to happen. Weiss made sure her Aura was up at all times as Ruby clambered onto the driver's seat. Time to put Dad's lesson to use!

The jock, his girlfriend, and the glasses guy (who had finally regained consciousness and hadn't stopped muttering about how 'this will make for an amazing story') stood awkwardly to the side, watching as Ruby and Weiss finished securing the ropes with alarming efficiency. Ruby dusted off her hands and turned to Weiss, a bright grin on her face, "Well, that's everyone! Ready to head back to Vale?"

Weiss wiped her hands on her skirt and flicked a strand of hair over her shoulder, "More than ready. Let's put this disaster of a 'vacation' behind us."

As they started up the truck, Ruby bouncing excitedly while Weiss kept pouting, one of the tied-up killers groaned loudly, his voice muffled by the mask that had been haphazardly shoved back onto his face. Weiss said she didn't even wanna look at them, "This isn't fair!" he whined, wriggling against the ropes, "You're freaks! Monsters! Nobody can take hits like that! You don't fight fair!"

Weiss looked back, fixing him with a glare, "Fair?" she repeated, her voice frosty, "You and your merry band of morons thought you could terrorize innocent people with your crude tools and atrocious masks, and now you want to talk about fair?"

The killer huffed, "It's rigged! You're cheating or something! Normal people don't fight like that!"

Weiss rolled her eyes, folding her arms, "Oh, cry me a river, you redneck cliches. And honestly, what sort of backwoods hick doesn't know what Aura is?"

Back at Beacon, Jaune sneezed.

The drive back to Vale was slow and painful, mostly due to the truck's insistence on threatening to collapse every five minutes and the would-be victims all making a nuisance of themselves. Jock was trying to get his ego back, his girlfriend was gushing about how many followers she'd get once she posted it to her socials, and glasses guy was muttering about how he was going to make millions on the movie. Ruby snorted. Yeah, put it in the pile with the rest of the bargain bin slashers.

By the time they arrived at the edge of the city, the guards stationed at the gate stared at the two Huntresses-in-training dragging a literal pile of tied-up killers like they'd just stumbled out of a fairy tale, "What...what is this?" one guard asked, pointing at the back of the truck.

Ruby grinned, "A really bad vacation!"

Weiss sighed and handed over the written report she'd painstakingly crafted during the drive back. Cause of course she did that, "This group has been responsible for a rash of killings in a lodge a few hours from here. These three will act as witnesses." She gestured to the nameless trio, "I suggest you take it from here."

The guards exchanged baffled looks before nodding and stepping forward to detain the groaning killers.

As the truck and the people in it was finally taken off their hands, Weiss turned to Ruby with a long-suffering sigh, "Can we go home now?"

Ruby nodded, clasping her hands behind her back, "Totally! I mean, we've definitely earned it, right?"

Weiss closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, "The first thing I'm doing when we get back is taking the longest, hottest bath possible. And burn these clothes. They've been tainted." She frowned and looked down at her dress. It looked just fine apart from some dirt, but Weiss wasn't gonna listen to her.

Ruby tilted her head, grinning, "Think you'll recommend the lodge to anyone else?" Weiss shot her a murderous glare, "Okay, okay!" Ruby laughed, skipping ahead as Weiss followed with a scowl that couldn't quite hide her relief. Maybe their next vacation would be better. Ruby'd heard good things about a summer camp not too far from here. Camp Clear Lake. It sounded like fun.

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Poor Weiss. She just wants a proper vacation and ends up having to deal with Remnant Leatherface. Oh well, at least she won some solo matches for once.

RWBY Oneshots and Shorts Repository - Jaune Arc's Theories of Narrative Causality

First oneshot. I know I'm clogged right now, but I think writing these out will help get my creative juices flowing again. Just oneshots and short stories with no plans to continue them. If anyone wants to adopt them, feel free. These are just done while I'm trying to get around Writer's Block for my main fics.

Someone reviewed my other fic and said I never finish my stories (though he also praised me as one of the top five RWBY writers, which was an ego boost). That's why these are oneshots and short stories. Just something for me to write up some fun stuff without weighing myself down with more ongoings.

I'm open to other ideas so long as they're oneshots. I imagine future updates will also be shorter.

This story: Jaune is genre savvy and knows how the narrative rules work. He also knows he's nothing more than cannon fodder. Watch his attempts to avoid the death flags and try to live another day.

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Jaune Arc understood the rules of life better than most. At first glance, he was your average, underprepared, undertrained militia member, the kind who fumbled with his sword as often as he drew it. His helmet sat slightly crooked on his blonde mop of hair, and his shield - a battered old thing that had probably belonged to his great-grandfather - looked more ornamental than functional. To the world, Jaune Arc was the very definition of cannon fodder.

But Jaune knew better.

He had spent years watching. Studying. Thinking about how things worked. And somewhere along the line - whether by divine insight, sheer paranoia, or far too many secondhand Huntsman stories - Jaune had come to a horrifying realization:

The world was a narrative.

It wasn't just random bad luck that his squadron always faced Grimm alone. It wasn't a coincidence that townspeople like him died seconds before the Huntsman arrived, just late enough to give the hero that extra oomph of righteous fury but too late to keep casualties to zero. It wasn't bad timing that the captain, just three years from retirement, had been ripped apart mid-sentence during Jaune's first real patrol.

The rules were simple:

Huntsmen were heroes. Grimm were the threat. The townsfolk, the militia, the expendable extras? They were the stakes.

And Jaune was not okay with that.

He leaned against the shaky wooden watchtower of Domremy, arms crossed as he scanned the distant tree line. His rusted blade sat nearby, mostly for show. He didn't even pretend to stand tall and proud anymore. What was the point? Standing tall made you look heroic, and looking heroic got you killed faster than anything. He knew how the world worked. He'd seen it firsthand. No one believed him, but he knew the truth.

Take the captain, for example. Matthias was his name. The man had been a gruff, sturdy sort, the kind you wanted to follow into battle - dependable, strong, respected, and tough but fair. The ideal of a small-town militia hero. But Jaune had known the second the man started talking about his wife back in their little cottage and how he was just 'three years away from retirement' that the man was doomed. Jaune had tried to tell him.

"Sir, I wouldn't talk like that," Jaune had muttered, shielding his face behind his crooked helmet.

The captain had given him the usual glare of irritation, "Arc, what are you talking about?"

"I'm saying...guys like you don't make it."

"Guys like me?"

"The strong, dependable ones. The kind we follow into battle. You're too likable, sir. You're setting yourself up for something tragic. You're going to say something hopeful, the Grimm will show up, and..." Jaune mimicked an explosion with his hands.

The captain had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "You're rambling, Arc. Now get your head out of the clouds and focus on the patrol. I gotta make sure to get home in time. My little girl's about to say her first words, I just know- "

He hadn't finished the sentence. He couldn't. The Beowolf had appeared from nowhere, jaws snapping, and the captain had gone down with a single scream. Jaune still remembered standing frozen, his heart hammering, as the Huntsman arrived mere seconds later, swinging a gleaming, overly complicated weapon and dispatching the Grimm like it was nothing.

That day had solidified it for Jaune. They were extras. Background noise. The opening act in a much grander never told anyone else after that. It was pointless. He'd tried explaining it to Jax once, his closest "friend" in the militia. He'd laid it out clearly: "The world runs on narrative rules. Guys like us don't win. We're just here to lose so the heroes look cool. Just stay quiet, keep your head down, maybe we'll both make it to retirement!"

Jax had stared at him for a long moment before laughing, "You're a weird guy, Jaune."

Weird or not, Jaune had seen enough to know the truth. People like him - poorly armored, barely trained militia who couldn't even afford cool weapons - were walking punchlines. His sword wasn't even sharp, his shield rattled when he walked, and his helmet smelled like cheese.

"Guys like me," Jaune muttered to himself, "Die first. But not this time."

He had made a vow. A solemn, unshakable vow: Jaune Arc would not die a nameless victim. He would not go out screaming, clutching his chest dramatically so some fancy Huntsman could shout, "Noooo!" and go supernova on a Grimm. He would not be part of someone else's tragic backstory.

Jaune's eyes scanned the horizon for the hundredth time that day. The Grimm were out there. They always were. The narrative couldn't function without them. He had no doubt that somewhere in the forests beyond Domremy, a Beowolf was lurking, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Probably a big one, too. Something with extra horns, redder eyes, maybe scars on its face. Something that screamed 'mid-tier boss fight'.

The kind of Grimm you send in to kill a few extras. Like him.

Jaune shivered. He could almost hear the ominous music swelling in the distance. The longer it stayed quiet, the worse it would be when the attack finally came. That was another thing he'd noticed about the rules. If it was too quiet for too long, something bad was definitely going to happen. If someone said, "I think we're safe now," they were absolutely going to die. If someone offered up a personal story - anything remotely touching or hopeful - Grimm were already on the way.

He wouldn't let himself fall for those traps. No personal stories. No speeches. No heroics.

Jaune picked up his shield and sword, giving both a long, appraising look. It was bad enough that he didn't have plot armor - did he have to be so under-equipped, too? He sighed and muttered to himself, "If I ever get a weapon like a Huntsman, it'll probably be made of wood. Or string. Or it'll just break when I swing it."

The wind rustled through the fields, the tall grass swaying. Jaune felt a chill run down his spine. Something's coming. He could feel it.

If he were a Huntsman, this is when he'd say something clever. Something cool like, "Well, let's get this over with." But he wasn't. He was Jaune Arc. And his survival depended on knowing his place, "Not today," he murmured, tightening his helmet, "Not this time." He backed toward the village, keeping his shield up. Jaune wasn't afraid of the Grimm. He was afraid of what the story wanted him to be: just another nameless casualty.

But Jaune Arc was going to live. Even if it meant hiding, ducking, and waiting for the actual heroes to show up. Surviving is winning, he reminded himself. And if that made him a coward, so be it.

Jaune had a system. A routine. A carefully curated list of steps he followed every day to keep himself alive in a world that wanted him dead for dramatic effect. He had no illusions about his place in the grand narrative of life. Guys like him didn't get cool speeches, plot armor, or last-minute saves from daring Huntresses with flashy weapons.

But Jaune wasn't going to let some cosmic storyteller toss him in the Tragic Backstory Pile™. No way. He had a list. And if the other militia recruits thought he was crazy? Fine. Let them. At least he'd make it to tomorrow.

Rule #1: Never, ever stand at the front.

The guy at the front? The guy who shouts, "For Domremy!" or some other heroic nonsense while charging into the Grimm? Yeah, that guy dies first. Every. Single. Time. Jaune had seen it happen during his second real patrol. Marcus, a big guy with a bigger axe, had roared his war cry and sprinted right at the Grimm like a Huntsman-in-training. Five seconds later, Marcus was a smear on the ground. The Grimm didn't even slow down.

Jaune stayed near the back now. Not dead last - dead last also got you killed when the Grimm flanked - but carefully tucked in the middle surrounded by bodies. Middle-ground guys survived just long enough to run when things got bad.

Rule #2: Never talk about your family.

Jaune learned this one the hard way. The moment someone brought up a wife, a kid, or their dear old mom baking pies back home, they might as well start digging their grave. It didn't matter how innocent the comment was. Something about family made you important enough to kill off.

One time, Elias - Jaune still remembered his name because of the screams - had gone on and on about how he couldn't wait to get back home and see his newborn son. He had a whole story about building the crib himself and how the kid would probably grow up to be a warrior. Jaune had tried to warn him, "Stop talking," he'd hissed, "You're jinxing it. Stop right now if you wanna see your baby boy again!"

Elias had laughed and called Jaune paranoid. Ten minutes later, a Nevermore had swooped out of the sky, carried Elias off, and dropped him somewhere beyond the treeline. They never found the body.

Now, whenever someone in the militia started with, "You know, back home- " Jaune clamped his hands over his ears and hummed loudly. He wasn't risking it.

Rule #3: Keep your helmet on, your mouth shut, and your shield up.

Narratively speaking, Jaune knew he wasn't important. Important characters stood out. They had spiky hair, cool capes, weapons that turned into six other weapons, or - at the very least - striking dialogue. Jaune was smart enough to keep his helmet down over his face. Anonymity was survival.

You would think it would be the opposite - that sticking out guaranteed a degree of plot armor like the Huntsmen - but that wasn't true. Uniqueness was a plus when you had awesome outfits, weapons, and superpowers. Unique cannon fodder were singled out. You wouldn't remember the guy with the helmet and no dialogue, but you would remember the guy with no helmet who talked about his girl back home. They were prime motivation material for any Huntsman who needed righteous fury.

As far as he was concerned, the helmet made him a generic, nameless NPC. It was his camouflage. If a Grimm looked his way, they'd think, Oh, he's just part of the scenery. Not worth the effort.

The shield helped too. It wasn't much - just old wood and metal - but it covered half his body, which meant half as much of him could be ripped apart.

Rule #4: Don't make speeches.

Heroic speeches were an instant death flag. If someone started yelling things like, "We can do this! Stand together!", the universe decided it was time for a tragedy. Jaune had seen it happen to the captain that replaced Matthias. Gregor was his name. He'd been shouting orders, rallying everyone, when a Beowolf came out of nowhere and ripped him clean in half. It literally ignored everyone else on the way to him to bisect the guy.

Jaune kept his pep talks limited to phrases like, "Nope," "Run," and "Let's not do this."

Once, Jax - poor, clueless Jax - had looked at Jaune and asked, "Aren't you supposed to motivate the troops, man?"

Jaune had stared at him and replied, "Why motivate people to die faster?"

Jax hadn't asked again.

Rule #5: Avoid places that look dramatic.

Jaune could smell a dramatic setting from a mile away. Abandoned villages? Nope. Forest clearings? Definitely not. Suspiciously quiet farmland at sunset? He wouldn't set foot there for a hundred Lien.

Dramatic places were Grimm magnets. They always appeared in the most cinematic way possible - crawling out of shadows, smashing through walls, or materializing behind you during the most inconvenient moment. Jaune went out of his way to stick to boring terrain. Bland dirt roads, overcrowded marketplaces, and sunny hillsides were his safe zones.

He'd once spent an entire patrol walking around a creepy old barn just because the wind made the door creak ominously, "Why tempt fate?" he'd muttered.

Rule #6: Always have an escape plan.

Jaune's motto was simple: If you see a Grimm, run. If you hear a Grimm, run. If you think about a Grimm, start stretching - because you'll need to run soon.

It wasn't cowardice. It was strategy. Huntsmen could fight Grimm because they had the tools for it - guns that turned into swords, swords that turned into guns, guns that turned into bigger guns. Jaune had a rusty sword and questionable cardio.

Whenever the militia captain - the fourth one, and he didn't even want to remember what happened the third - scolded him for retreating too quickly, Jaune would mutter, "Live to run another day, sir!"

"You mean fight," the captain would growl.

"No, sir. Run."

He wasn't disciplined for it. The man tried to make a speech and a Grimm worm sucked him down to the earth like a noodle.

Jaune's eyes scanned the horizon again from his spot in the Domremy watchtower. The rules rattled in his head like a mantra, steady and practiced. Don't stand at the front. Don't talk about your family. Keep your helmet on. Don't make speeches. Avoid dramatic settings. Always have an escape plan, "Follow the rules," he whispered, "And you get to see another sunrise." He had other rules, of course. Over two dozen. But these were the most important for day to day survival.

For now, Domremy was quiet, but Jaune knew better than to trust the silence. Quiet didn't mean safe. Quiet was just the universe building tension.

And Jaune Arc would not be its next casualty.

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Jaune was having a good day. Well, as good a day as one could have while clinging to survival in a world governed by narrative causality. The sun was shining, the watchtower didn't creak ominously under his weight, and the Grimm were quiet. Too quiet, perhaps, but Jaune was...relatively safe inside the walls. Still, he made sure to keep close to any buildings just in case random Nevermores arrived, driven by the sudden need to add a little tragedy to the story.

Then the summons came.

"Arc! Captain wants you in his office. Now."

Jaune froze mid-step, his boot halfway off the ground. His blood ran cold. Summons were never a good thing. Best-case scenario? He was getting another lecture about 'militia morale' and 'being too negative' (Jaune preferred to think of it as being savvy). Worst case?

Worst case, it was a plot thread.

Plot threads were Jaune's greatest fear. Plot threads dragged unlucky, under-equipped extras like him into stories far too big for their survival. He was not protagonist material - he had a crooked helmet, an old sword, and no tragic backstory. He wasn't a rising hero, or a last survivor, or even a comedic relief sidekick. He was background noise. Expendable scenery. And he liked it that way. With any luck, he'd be the extra who made it to the end credits cheering for the hero.

Still, you didn't say "no" to the captain. Not unless you wanted a reprimand, which itself was probably a small death flag, given how captains never seemed to last long around him. The door to Captain Rickton's office loomed like the mouth of a Grimm. Jaune swallowed thickly and knocked, "Jaune Arc reporting, sir."

"Get in here, Arc!" Jaune pushed the door open cautiously, half-expecting ominous music to start playing. Captain Rickton sat behind his desk, his chair creaking under his bulk, but Jaune's eyes immediately snapped to the other person in the room.

A girl.

A girl with bright silver eyes, a wide, cheerful grin, and a red hooded cloak that swirled dramatically as she turned to face him. She looked like something straight off a Huntsman recruitment poster - like someone who woke up every morning with theme music playing in the background, "Oh, hi!" she said, waving enthusiastically, "I'm Ruby! Ruby Rose. You must be Jaune!" Everything about her, even her voice, screamed 'I'm the hero of this story'.

Jaune stared at her. His helmet wobbled as he turned to Rickton. Then back to Ruby. His stomach sank like a lead weight. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. The rules came swirling back in full force.

Rule #7 (which he had never spoken aloud because just thinking it was dangerous): If you meet someone with a flashy outfit, dramatic weapon, and protagonist energy outside of them saving the day at the last second - RUN.

Jaune had never met an actual Huntsman-in-training before, but Ruby Rose didn't even need to introduce herself. Her entire energy radiated 'main character'. That red cloak practically screamed 'designed to stand out'. She had a massive mechanical weapon strapped to her back, something that looked like it could transform into a dozen different shapes and shoot fireworks while doing it. Jaune could already see the death flags piling up around him.

Jaune's legs twitched. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to turn around, leave the room, and keep walking until he hit the next kingdom. Unfortunately, Captain Rickton was already speaking, "Arc, you're guiding Miss Rose to that cave we've had reports about. The one in the northern woods."

Jaune's brain short-circuited, "W-What?"

"You heard me. She needs a guide, and you're it."

Jaune's jaw dropped. He pointed shakily at Ruby, who gave him a friendly, clueless smile, as though she weren't singlehandedly derailing his entire survival plan, "Sir, with all due respect...why me?"

Rickton leaned back in his chair, frowning, "Because you know the woods better than anyone else. You've been dodging patrol duty for months, so you're the only one who hasn't been mauled, carried off, or eaten yet. Consider it your turn to do something useful." Dodging patrol duty? Excuse him, Jaune called it tactical survival awareness. But he was too stunned to argue.

"Sir," Jaune tried one last time, his voice desperate, "Can't we send...I don't know, Jax?"

"Jax's still limping from that Ursa incident," Rickton replied, then squinted at him, "Why are you arguing? You're barely clocking in the time. You're lucky I haven't fired you yet, boy." Would that he could do that. You'd think getting fired would be the best thing that could happen to him, but he knew the truth. The last one who got fired - some guy who didn't even pretend to care about keeping up appearances - lasted only a couple days before he was somehow enslaved by bandits. In the middle of the night. Inside the town. With no one seeing it. And the bandits didn't take anyone or anything else, just him.

No, the only options he had were peaceful retirement or somehow getting plot armor. And he wasn't getting the second one.

"Because doing things gets people killed!" Jaune blurted. Then, realizing how that sounded, he quickly amended, "Er, sir."

Rickton ignored him and turned to Ruby, who was busy inspecting Jaune like he was a mildly interesting side quest, "Arc'll get you there and back, Miss Rose. Right, Arc?" Jaune could only make a faint choking noise in response.

Ruby grinned brightly, apparently oblivious to Jaune's growing pallor, "Great! This'll be fun!"

Jaune almost fainted. Guiding a Huntsman. No, not just a Huntsman - a Huntsman-in-training. A girl whose very existence radiated dramatic potential. That cave wasn't just a cave anymore. It was a plot device. A setting. A death trap designed to show how cool Ruby Rose was when she effortlessly sliced through whatever monstrosity lay in wait.

And Jaune? Jaune would be there to die first, to highlight just how serious the stakes were and be her first taste of the tragedies fightimg Grimm could have..

This was it. This was how it ended.

As they left Rickton's office, Ruby chatted cheerfully beside him, her weapon clanking lightly on her back with every step. Jaune didn't even hear what she was saying. He was too busy muttering his rules under his breath like a prayer.

'Don't stand at the front. Don't talk about your family. Keep your helmet on.'

Ruby tilted her head at him, "Hey, are you okay? You look kinda pale."

"I'm fine," Jaune replied robotically.

"You sure? You're sweating a lot."

"I'm fine."

"Okay..." She shrugged, unfazed, "So, tell me about this cave! I heard there's Grimm in it. Have you fought a lot of Grimm before?"

Jaune's eye twitched.

Rule #8: Never admit you're bad at fighting. It'll only make the universe put you in a situation where you have to prove it.

"I...I've survived a lot of Grimm," Jaune said weakly. It wasn't a lie.

Ruby seemed satisfied with that, "Cool! Oh, this'll be so much fun!"

"Yeah," Jaune mumbled, his voice hollow, "Fun."

He was doomed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaune was doomed. Absolutely, unequivocally doomed.

It wasn't Ruby Rose's fault, he reminded himself as she skipped a few paces ahead, her red cloak swishing with every step. How could he blame her? She didn't know. She had no idea about the cruel narrative rules that governed their world, about the invisible hands that shaped every twist and turn of their lives. She didn't see the signs - how the universe practically screamed "death flag" every time she opened her mouth.

No, this wasn't her fault. But Jaune still wanted to cry.

The cave wasn't far, just an hour's walk north of Domremy through a suspiciously quiet forest. The sun shone warmly through the trees, and birds chirped happily overhead, as if the world weren't actively laying the groundwork for their deaths. Jaune trudged along beside her, his rusted sword bumping against his leg and his old wooden shield weighing heavy on his back. He kept glancing nervously at the treeline, half expecting a Grimm to leap out at any moment.

Ruby, meanwhile, hadn't stopped talking since they'd left, "So, Jaune! Can I call you Jaune? It's nice to meet someone my age who's out here protecting people. That's so cool!" She beamed at him, her silver eyes shining with innocent enthusiasm, and Jaune bit back a groan. Rule number nine, he thought bitterly. Never look cool. Looking cool gets you killed.

"It's...not that cool," he mumbled, "Trust me."

But Ruby just laughed like he'd made a joke, "Oh, come on! You're part of the militia, right? That's brave! I bet you've fought all kinds of Grimm."

"Sure...you could say that."

Ruby didn't seem to hear him, "So, do you have family back in Domremy? I mean, you've got the Arc name - big family, right?"

Jaune nearly tripped over his own feet. 'No, no, no! Rule two!' He felt his heart pounding in his chest as he frantically waved a hand, "Nope! Nope, not talking about family!"

Ruby blinked at him, confused, "Huh? Why not?"

"Because it's...bad luck."

She tilted her head, the way a puppy might when hearing an unfamiliar sound, "Bad luck? How could talking about your family be bad luck? They're our motivation!" Maybe her motivation. Heroes could talk about their families all the time without having to worry about getting decapitated mid-sentence!

Jaune clamped his helmet down tighter over his head, muttering under his breath, "Because the minute you start reminiscing about your sister's pie recipes, or how your mom used to tuck you in at night, a Nevermore shows up and carries you off."

"What was that?"

"Nothing!" Jaune yelped, "Forget I said anything."

Ruby shrugged it off like she shrugged off everything else that made Jaune's soul scream, "Well, I think it's nice to have family waiting for you. I'm sure they're proud of you."

He groaned softly into his gauntleted hand, 'She's still talking about them. The flag's been planted. I'm done for.'

She hummed as she walked, unbothered by his misery, and after a moment she asked, "So, what about dreams? Any big goals?"

Jaune flinched again, "Dreams?"

"Yeah! You know, things you want to do. Places you want to see. Me, I wanna be a Huntress!" she said brightly, as if that weren't abundantly obvious already, "I mean, I am one technically, but like...a real Huntress. Saving people, fighting Grimm, making the world a better place."

Jaune rubbed his temples beneath his helmet. Rule ten: Don't share your dreams. Dreams got people killed. Dreams made you significant, and significance was the last thing a guy like him needed. It was almost as much of a death sentence as talking about family. He didn't have any lofty ambitions. He wanted to wake up tomorrow. That was enough.

"I don't have dreams," he muttered, trying to kill the topic.

Ruby stopped walking and turned to look at him, "Aw, don't say that. You've gotta have something you want! I mean, even just little stuff! Like...don't you wanna take that helmet off? I bet it's hot under there."

Jaune froze in place, gripping the sides of his helmet as if she'd threatened to take it from him by force, "What? No. No way. The helmet stays on."

Ruby laughed, "It's not like we're fighting anything right now. I'm just saying, you'll probably feel more comfortable."

Jaune shook his head vehemently, each motion making the helmet rattle a little, "Comfort kills, Ruby."

"What does that mean?"

"It means helmets save lives. Shields save lives. Staying anonymous saves lives. You're not taking this helmet off me unless a Beowolf swallows my head whole."

Ruby stared at him for a moment before giggling behind her hand, "You're kinda funny, you know that?"

Jaune slumped forward, despair curling in his gut. She thinks I'm funny. That was bad. That made him memorable. Memorable cannon fodder got bigger death scenes. Jaune had seen it a hundred times before. Some guy cracks a joke, everyone likes him, and then - bam! Instant tragedy! No one cared when the quiet guy in the corner died, but when it was the comic relief? Oh, that was enough.

"Hey," Ruby said suddenly, her voice soft and sincere, "You don't have to worry, you know."

Jaune blinked at her, suspicious, "What?"

"I'll protect you," she said cheerfully, giving him a blinding, heroic smile, "If any Grimm show up, I'll take care of it! You don't have to be scared." He stared at her in disbelief. She meant it - he could hear the sincerity in her voice. This bubbly, oblivious girl with her oversized weapon and protagonist energy was promising to protect him. A death flag just shot up so fast in his mind that he could practically hear it flapping in the wind.

He groaned and clutched his face, "You don't get it."

"Get what?"

"This!" He gestured wildly at everything around them - the forest, the clear blue sky, her, "This whole situation. You showing up with your fancy weapon and red cloak and promising to protect me. This is how it starts! I'm the expendable guy! The one who gets picked off so you can get your moment of righteous vengeance!"

Ruby blinked at him, clearly confused, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't," Jaune muttered, dragging a hand down his face, "You're the hero. You don't need to know. The universe works for you."

Ruby gave him a funny look but didn't argue. Instead, she turned back toward the path ahead, humming a cheerful tune as she walked. Meanwhile, Jaune trudged after her, his helmet tilted so low that he could barely see. He couldn't even be mad at her. She was sweet, in her own way. She didn't know any better. But Jaune knew the truth: the forest wasn't quiet because it was peaceful. It was quiet because something terrible was waiting. And the universe had paired him up with Ruby Rose, the walking embodiment of a plot thread.

As far as Jaune was concerned, they were already living in the prologue of a very violent tragedy.

And he was absolutely, positively doomed.

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Jaune was still alive. Somehow. Against all odds. He sat slumped against the cold, damp wall of the cave, his wooden shield cracked in half and his rusted sword lying uselessly at his side. His breathing was ragged, every gasp sharp and uneven, and sweat poured down his face, soaking the inside of his helmet.

It was a miracle. No - worse than a miracle. A fluke. If the Grimm's claws had been an inch lower - just an inch - he wouldn't be panting against a cave wall. He'd be a smear on the ground, another nameless casualty feeding Ruby Rose's heroic journey. Years later she'd think about him off-hand, that poor militia soldier who died so horribly, and then vow to herself that she'd save everyone she could. He would be nothing more than a statistic. A motivational story.

His whole life had flashed before his eyes, and frankly, it hadn't been a very interesting one. But he was here. Alive. By sheer luck, or fate, or maybe the universe getting lazy. Jaune was too relieved to question it.

He'd survived the Death Cave.

He let his head thunk back against the stone wall as Ruby Rose, the tiny engine of destruction that had dragged him into this nightmare, dusted herself off and wiped her scythe - a massive, deadly contraption that was far too flashy for any sane person to wield - against the ground.

The last Grimm had finally dissolved into black mist, leaving behind only silence and Jaune's pathetic gasping, "Woo!" Ruby exclaimed, stretching her arms above her head like she'd just finished a light workout, "That wasn't so bad, huh?" Jaune wheezed. He tried to say something - anything - but the only sound that came out was a choked squeak. Ruby turned toward him, beaming, her silver eyes bright and chipper, "Jaune! Oh my gosh, you were amazing!"

Jaune froze mid-wheeze. No. No, no, no. That tone in her voice. The one people used when they thought someone was 'brave' or 'heroic'. It was the kind of tone that planted flags. Big ones. Bright, red flags that said, "This guy's important enough to kill off later for emotional impact!"

"W-What?" he croaked, his voice hoarse.

Ruby clipped her scythe to her back and skipped over to him, her smile wide and earnest, "I'm serious! I'm so happy you were here with me. You were so brave!"

Jaune's blood turned to ice.

Rule #11: Never, under any circumstances, let anyone call you brave.

Bravery got you killed faster than anything else. Being brave meant doing something reckless and noble, which in turn meant your death would be meaningful. The moment someone slapped 'brave' on your forehead, you were marked for tragedy. Jaune had avoided it his entire life. And here Ruby Rose was, handing it to him on a silver platter. He could practically feel the universe sharpening its knives, salivating at the thought of killing him off later for even more dramatic impact.

He hadn't survived. This was a stay of execution.

"N-No, no, I wasn't- " Jaune stammered, raising a shaking hand, "You've got it all wrong! I'm not brave. I'm not."

Ruby laughed lightly, dropping into a crouch in front of him, "Oh, come on! You came all the way out here even though you were scared. That's what bravery is, right? Doing something even though you're afraid."

Jaune wanted to scream, "No!" he shouted, his voice cracking, "That's not bravery! That's unfortunate circumstances! There's a difference! I tripped and fell in here, I didn't come in willingly!"

But Ruby wasn't listening. She was on a roll, and nothing was going to stop her now. She clapped her hands together and grinned at him, "And you were such a good guide! I don't think I would've found this cave without you." Jaune's head dropped into his hands, his whole body trembling with barely contained despair. Why was she doing this to him? He survived! He'd made it! Against every single narrative rule he lived by, he was walking out of this cave alive. And now she was undoing it!

"Stop," he whispered weakly, "Please stop."

But Ruby wasn't stopping. She wasn't even slowing down, "You even stood your ground against that big Ursa! I saw you!" she said, positively glowing with praise, "Holding up your shield like that - I mean, wow! That takes guts!"

"I was cowering." Jaune whimpered, "I was actively cowering."

"You didn't run," Ruby countered cheerfully, "That's what matters!"

Jaune lifted his head to stare at her, face pale, his helmet wobbling slightly from the movement, "Running would've been smart," he said flatly, "Running would've been the correct choice."

Ruby just laughed again, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder, "Well, I'm glad you didn't. I couldn't have asked for a better guide, Jaune. I'm glad we met."

And that was it. That was the moment Jaune almost cried. This was how it started. Every Huntsman story he'd ever heard, every tale told in Domremy about brave militia who held out just long enough' or 'fought valiantly before the end', all of them began with words like this. Cheerful praise. A pat on the shoulder. Someone important saying, "I'm glad you were here." It was a death sentence. A narrative noose tightening around his neck. The guys who Huntsmen singled out to praise were doomed sooner or later.

Jaune pushed himself up with trembling arms, barely able to stand as his knees wobbled, "I...I need to leave. I need to go home, right now."

Ruby stood too, brushing dirt off her cloak and smiling brightly at him, "Oh, don't worry! I'll walk you back to Domremy. You've done enough for today!" Jaune swayed where he stood, clutching at the cave wall for support. Done enough? She thought this was done? Oh, no. This wasn't done. This was the setup. The tragic second act waiting to happen. The world wasn't going to let him go home just because Ruby Rose said so.

As they stepped out of the cave, Jaune tilted his head back and squinted at the treetops, half-expecting to see a Nevermore circling ominously overhead. There was nothing. Not yet. But he could feel it.

This was far from over. The universe didn't let guys like him walk away from moments like this. Ruby had practically hung a sign around his neck that said 'Brave and Noble Companion'.He might as well have a giant target painted on his back.

And as Ruby hummed a cheerful tune beside him on their way back to town, Jaune whispered a single, defeated sentence under his breath.

"I'm so dead..."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For two whole weeks, Jaune was a wreck.

Not just a regular kind of nervous wreck, either - no, he had reached levels of paranoia previously unknown to mankind. Every shadow in the treeline was a Grimm stalking him. Every creak of the watchtower was the universe building tension. Every overly quiet day was a setup for a surprise attack. Even the wind whispering through Domremy's streets felt like it carried ominous foreshadowing. A foreshadowing to his terrible, painful death.

Jaune had barely slept. He'd barely ate. He flinched at every sound, gripped his shield even when off-duty, and avoided conversations like they were the Grimm themselves. Rule after rule rattled through his mind like a broken mantra: Stay anonymous. Don't talk about family. Don't stand out.

And for a while, it seemed like his efforts were working. The days passed with no catastrophe, no attacks, no overly cheerful Huntresses dragging him into death caves. Slowly, painfully, Jaune allowed himself to think - just think - that maybe he'd escaped. Maybe the universe had moved on to torment someone else. It had been two weeks. Surely, he thought desperately, if he was going to die dramatically, the window had already passed. Ruby Rose had already found someone else to be her sacrificial lamb.

It was the first mistake he'd made in weeks.

The summons came just as he was halfway through chewing a stale piece of bread, standing in the militia barracks. The door creaked open, and Jax poked his head in, wearing an expression of absolute pity, "Cap wants you in his office. Again."

Jaune froze mid-chew, the bread turning to ash in his mouth. The room spun slightly, "No," he said weakly, "No. I'm not going. I refuse."

"You don't really get a choice, man," Jax said, scratching the back of his neck, "He said right now. And you look like you haven't slept since last week, dude. Might wanna freshen up."

Jaune was already spiraling, mumbling to himself as he grabbed his crooked helmet, "This is it. This is the end. I knew it. I knew it. I thought I was safe - that's the problem! The universe loves when you think you're safe!"

Jax blinked, "You okay?"

"No, Jax, I'm not okay. I'm about to get plot-threaded again!"

Jax just shrugged, "You're weird, man."

When he arrived, the office door loomed larger than it had two weeks ago, which Jaune hadn't thought was physically possible. It felt like walking to the gallows, like doom had been carved into the wood grain of the frame. His knuckles hovered near the door as he whispered frantically under his breath, "Maybe it's fine. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he just wants to yell at me again about morale." He'd take the lecture. Lectures were safe...mostly.

He knocked.

"Come in!" called Captain Rickton's gruff voice. Jaune pushed the door open, already bracing for impact. He stepped inside, his helmet rattling slightly on his head, and froze.

Ruby Rose was there.

"Jaune!" she greeted cheerfully, bouncing slightly on her toes, "Good to see you!"

Jaune nearly screamed. No. Not her. Not again. The sight of her red cloak alone was enough to send him into a minor existential crisis. But it got worse. Standing next to her was another girl. Pale, poised, and practically radiating importance. Her pure white hair was swept back into an elegant ponytail, her clothes looked fancy enough to buy Domremy twice over, and her icy blue eyes fixed on him with a judgment so intense that Jaune immediately felt smaller. Like a worm under a magnifiying glass.

She arched a single perfectly manicured brow, "This is him?"

Ruby nodded enthusiastically, "Yup! Jaune Arc! He's great. Super brave, super helpful, and he knows the area like the back of his hand! Won't find anyone better!" Jaune's jaw dropped. His stomach did several flips and landed somewhere near his knees, "Jaune," Ruby continued, clearly oblivious to his internal implosion, "This is Weiss Schnee! She's one of my teammates from Beacon and my partner!"

Weiss Schnee. He knew that name. Everyone knew that name. The Schnee Dust Company. Big city wealth. Fancy dresses. The kind of person who didn't just appear in backwater villages like Domremy unless there was something important going on. He knew her too, of course. He made it a point to check on the big names in Remnant - so he could stay as far away as possible from them. Big names meant big stories. Big stories meant lots of cannon fodder to up the stakes.

Weiss regarded him with an expression caught somewhere between skepticism and disdain, "I've heard a lot about you, Jaune Arc," she said crisply, her arms crossing, "But I will be the judge of your worth, not Ruby's biased praise."

Jaune's brain short-circuited, "Huh?" was all he managed to croak.

Captain Rickton cleared his throat, clearly unbothered by the insanity unfolding in his office, "Arc, Miss Rose here specifically requested you as a guide for their next excursion. Miss Schnee will be accompanying her this time. There have been reports of a pair of Goliaths running around and we need to head it off."

Jaune turned slowly to look at Rickton, his face pale as a ghost, "Sir...no."

"Yes."

"No, I can't. You don't understand-"

"You're going, Arc. Miss Rose requested you." Jaune swayed on his feet, the world tilting around him. His throat worked soundlessly, trying to form words, trying to explain to someone that this was a terrible idea. Ruby alone had nearly killed him with praise and cheerfulness. Now there was Weiss Schnee, who looked like she might grade him while he died. This wasn't just a death flag - this was the universe raising an entire death banner over his head. Not one protagonists, but two!

"Jaune?" Ruby asked, tilting her head curiously, "You okay?"

He opened his mouth to respond. Then everything went dark as Jaune fainted on the spot, his helmet clattering to the ground.

The last thing he heard was Ruby's concerned voice asking if he was alright and Weiss snarking that this wasn't a good start.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poor Jaune. He knows how the world works, but to everyone else, he's just a crazy guy who reads too many comic books. And now Ruby's latched onto him. Time is ticking. Either he gets plot armor or finds some other way to keep the narrative from axing him to make a point.

Next oneshot idea: Ruby and Weiss get dragged into a slasher movie, Texas Chainsaw Massacre style. Except they still have Aura while the Slasher villains don't. Cue reversal and curb stomp.

Fake It Till You Make It - Memoirs

I was inspired by Titanmaster's review of my story so I decided to make a chapter 2. This is a series of memoirs exploring the greatness of Jaune Arc from the point of view of the people around him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I'll never forget the day I saw just how amazing Jaune was firsthand. It was during the infamous Cyber Siege of Vale, a time when chaos threatened to consume the city. Arthur Watts, one of Salem's most devious operatives, had infiltrated the CCT network. His plan? Flood the communications systems with endless spam mail, effectively crippling Vale's ability to coordinate and defend itself.

It was an unstoppable barrage of useless emails. Messages about fake lottery winnings, questionable Dust-cleaning products, and - worst of all - those awful chain letters threatening 'seven years of bad luck' if you didn't forward them. That fiend! He knew that'd make the anxious people super paranoid! The entire city was on the brink of digital collapse.

As I stood there, frozen in panic, Jaune Arc strode into the heart of the commotion, completely calm. He didn't say much - he just observed, taking it all in. At first, I thought he might've been numb with shock like the rest of us were. It was a big deal and all. But no. There was a glimmer in his eyes, a spark of...something I didn't realize back then. Something that showed off how smart and heroic and brilliant he was.

The rest of us were frantically trying to hack into the system or fend off Watts's mechanized minions, but Jaune? He did the unexpected. The genius. The impossible.

He tripped.

And, in doing so, sent a full glass of juice flying out of his hands. Time seemed to slow as the arc of liquid sailed through the air, crashing directly onto the central router. Sparks flew, and the entire network fried in an instant. The emails stopped. Watts screamed in frustration as his entire operation was reduced to smoldering circuitry. Then he screamed even louder when Pyrrha and Weiss started kicking his butt (the spam included some weird stuff about them too).

At first, I thought it was an accident. A lucky coincidence. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized...Jaune knew. He knew that the router was vulnerable to juice. He'd calculated the precise angle, the perfect velocity, the exact timing needed to disable the system in one flawless move. That's when I understood what makes Jaune Arc so incredible. While the rest of us fight battles with weapons and brute strength, Jaune fights with strategy, subtlety, and pure, unadulterated genius.

It was that moment - the moment when Arthur Watts was dragged away by the Huntsmen, screaming in defeat - that I knew Jaune wasn't just some Huntsman-in-training. No, Jaune Arc is a master tactician. A true hero of Remnant.

If you ask me, the real reason Watts hasn't shown his face since then is that he's still afraid. Afraid of Jaune ruining his plans again with casual ease."

(Excerpt from The Amazing Tales of Jaune Arc, as told by Ruby Rose)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I confess, my first impression of Jaune Arc was less than flattering. He was clumsy, unpolished, and altogether uninspiring. While others seemed to see potential in him, I saw only a boy woefully out of his depth - a sentiment I made no effort to conceal at the time. Frankly, I could not fathom what Ozpin had been thinking when he admitted Jaune to Beacon Academy. It seemed nothing short of a mistake, I thought. The bumbling oaf with nothing but dreams and naivete on his side., He would fail soon.

But Jaune proved me wrong. Spectacularly.

It was during the Vytal Festival, a time of great anticipation and unity. Or so we thought. Beneath the surface, forces far darker than we could have imagined were at work. Cinder Fall, who we believed to be nothing more than an ordinary student, had embedded herself among us. She attended classes, participated in the tournament, and even mingled with the crowds at social events. She was, to all appearances, entirely unremarkable.

I, of course, was none the wiser. Why would I suspect her? She presented herself with poise and charm, the perfect facade of an aspiring Huntress. But Jaune - Jaune - saw what none of us did.

It happened during one of the festival's grand galas. The ballroom was resplendent, filled with Huntsmen, students, and dignitaries from across Remnant. Everyone was dressed in their finest attire, enjoying the festivities without a care in the world. I remember seeing Jaune that night, standing awkwardly near the dessert table, fumbling with a plate of hors d'oeuvres. At the time, I thought nothing of it. Typical Jaune, I thought. Out of place and out of his depth.

But I was wrong. He wasn't out of place. He was observing.

Jaune's unassuming demeanor allowed him to slip through the crowd unnoticed, blending into the background as though he were part of the decor. While the rest of us were caught up in the revelry - Ruby in particular had to be stopped from guzzling the chocolate fountain - Jaune's keen eyes were taking everything in. It was during this quiet observation that he noticed something peculiar. Cinder was behaving strangely. She moved through the room with calculated precision, her gaze lingering on certain individuals and objects. It was subtle - so subtle that none of us noticed. None of us except Jaune.

Now, at the time, I didn't know any of this. To me, Jaune's sudden disappearance from the party seemed typical of his awkward nature. But the truth was far more extraordinary.

While we danced and dined, Jaune shadowed Cinder across the festival grounds. Alone, unarmed, and without backup, he trailed her movements, piecing together a puzzle that none of us had even begun to see. Somehow, through sheer determination and intuition, Jaune uncovered evidence of Cinder's treachery - evidence that would later prove critical in stopping her plans.

The details of how Jaune obtained this information remain unclear. He has always been frustratingly modest about the incident, brushing off questions with comments like, 'I just got lucky,' or 'It wasn't a big deal.' But I know better. Luck alone cannot explain what he accomplished that night. It was Jaune's courage, his perceptiveness, and his willingness to act when others would have hesitated - myself included - that exposed Cinder for who she truly was.

When he presented the evidence to us (two weeks later, presumably to give us time to prepare), I was stunned. Shocked. Not only by the revelation of Cinder's true nature, but by the realization that Jaune Arc - the boy I had once dismissed as hopeless - had seen what I, with all my training and discipline, had overlooked.

That night, my opinion of Jaune changed forever. He wasn't just a clumsy boy fumbling his way through Beacon. He was a strategist. A thinker. A hero.

I often reflect on that night and wonder what would have happened if Jaune hadn't been there. Would we have discovered Cinder's plans too late? Would Beacon have fallen even sooner? The thought is chilling.

Jaune Arc taught me a valuable lesson that night. Greatness doesn't always come in the form of strength or skill. Sometimes, it comes in the form of a quiet observer, someone willing to look beyond the surface and act when it matters most.

Looking back on it, I feel truly ashamed that my pride had tainted my view of him for so long. I thought I knew everything, that my sheltered upbringing in Atlas made me inherently better than someone who lived outside the walls. I was wrong. Jaune was not only my better intellectually, but morally as well. He forgave me. After all the scorn and superiority I showed him, he just rubbed the back of his head and said 'no hard feelings'. As if it was that easy. Perhaps for him, it was.

And that, I think, is what makes Jaune truly remarkable."

(Excerpt from Winter's Rose: The Life and Times of Weiss Schnee, by Weiss Schnee)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I often reflect on the many battles and trials we faced as a team, and I am struck by one undeniable truth: we would not have endured without Jaune Arc. He was the foundation upon which we built ourselves, the steady hand that guided us through turmoil. While Ruby, Weiss, and I may have wielded impressive skills and talents, it was Jaune who held us together when we were on the brink of collapse and kept us from being at each other's throats.

In our earliest days as a team, we were far from perfect. We were four vastly different individuals, each with our own strengths, weaknesses, and, of course, tempers. Ruby's boundless enthusiasm often clashed with Weiss's strict standards. Weiss's perfectionism, in turn, grated on Ruby's carefree nature. And as for me...I will admit, I sometimes struggled to find my place amidst their contrasting personalities. We were a team in name, but we were fractured in truth. Disjointed. We risked falling apart before we could truly begin.

But Jaune saw us for what we could be, not what we were.

I will never forget the way he quietly took charge. It wasn't flashy, like the speeches of great generals in the stories. No, Jaune's leadership was understated but profoundly effective. He would listen - truly listen - to each of us when we were at our lowest, when frustration or doubt threatened to consume us. I remember one particular night, after a particularly tense mission. Ruby and Weiss had been at odds for days, their arguments growing louder and more heated with each passing hour. I felt caught in the middle, unsure of how to mediate. For all my prowess in the arena, my social skills were terribly lacking.

But Jaune...Jaune brought us back from the brink. He called us together, not with a commanding tone but with the gentle assurance of someone who cared. He let Ruby express her frustrations and Weiss her grievances, nodding thoughtfully at each of their words. When emotions ran high, he would interject with simple but profound statements like, 'I see why that upset you,' or, 'That's rough, buddy.' Buddy. A reminder of the friendships we shared, our bond as a team. It was as though he understood our hearts better than we did.

And when the storm finally calmed, Jaune spoke. His words weren't commands or ultimatums. They were quiet reassurances, reminders of why we were a team and why we needed each other. By the end of the night, Ruby and Weiss were no longer shouting but laughing - together. I watched, awestruck, as Jaune, who so often claimed to doubt himself, succeeded where I had failed.

He brought us peace.

It wasn't the only time. Again and again, Jaune was our guiding light, the one who reminded us of what truly mattered. Whether it was Weiss pushing herself too hard, Ruby questioning her leadership, or myself doubting my worth, Jaune was always there. He would offer his unwavering support, his heartfelt encouragement, and, above all, his selfless belief in us.

I never truly understood how he did it. His words weren't grand or poetic, and yet they carried a weight that none of us could deny. Perhaps it was his sincerity, his genuine desire to see us succeed, that made him such an extraordinary leader. He never sought recognition or credit. In fact, I suspect he didn't even realize the impact he had on us.

But I did.

Without Jaune, our team would have crumbled under the weight of our own insecurities and conflicts. He was the rope that held us together, the heart of our group. I owe so much of who I am today to his quiet strength, his steadfast belief in us, and his willingness to bear the burden of our struggles.

I often wonder if Jaune knows just how much he means to us. To me. If he doesn't, I hope these words might one day help him understand.

Jaune Arc wasn't just our leader. He was our anchor. Our light. And for that, I will always be grateful."

(Excerpt from Records of a Champion's Heart, by Pyrrha Nikos)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"They think they've won. They think locking me away in this glorified cell will stop me. They think stripping me of my Maiden powers, dampening my Aura, and surrounding me with guards will break my will. Fools. All of them. They don't understand. None of them understand the truth.

The truth...about him.

Jaune Arc.

Just saying his name makes my blood boil, my teeth grind, and by very soul burn. The thought of that insipid smile, that unassuming face - it's enough to drive me mad with rage. No, it's worse than that. He's not just a man. He's a monster. A creature of unfathomable cunning, a strategist so devious he makes Ozpin look like a child fumbling with building blocks.

I underestimated him. I'll admit that. I was blinded by his apparent simplicity, his clumsy demeanor. I thought him nothing more than an incompetent oaf, a mere pawn to be swept aside. When I realized he'd heard my plans, he fooled me into thinking he was nothing more than an oaf who genuinely believed I was talking about a bake sale. But no. No. He was always ten steps ahead, his every move calculated, his every failure a deliberate feint to lure me into a false sense of security.

How else can you explain what happened? I had everything planned - everything. Beacon was mine. The Fall Maiden's power was mine. Victory was mine. And then...he appeared.

At first, I thought nothing of him. I barely even registered his presence. A mistake. My greatest mistake. I should have seen the brilliance behind his seemingly foolish facade. The way he maneuvered unnoticed, slipping into places no one else could. The way he listened, quietly, intently, gathering every scrap of information without drawing the slightest attention to himself. The way he outsmarted me - outsmarted me! - without ever lifting a finger.

Do you know what it's like to have your plans unraveled by someone you didn't even realize was in the room? To watch as everything you've worked for crumbles before your eyes, all because of one unassuming boy who just happened to be there?! But of course, he didn't 'just happen' to be there. It was a cunning ploy.

He's not human. He can't be. No one human could be so dangerous, so unpredictable. They call him a hero, but I know the truth. He's a menace. A shadow lurking just beyond your sight, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And strike he does, with a precision that defies all logic.

Even now, I can feel him out there, somewhere, plotting my ultimate defeat. Being imprisoned isn't enough for him. No, he wants to break me entirely. Oh, I know what they'll say. 'Cinder, you're just bitter. You're overthinking it.' But I'm not. I see the pattern, the method behind his madness. He's toying with me, letting me stew in this cell while he plans his next move. And when he comes for me, it won't be with swords or magic. No, Jaune Arc doesn't need such things. He'll destroy me with his mind.

But I won't let him win. I refuse to let him win. I don't care how many guards they post outside my cell, how many restrictions they place on my powers. I will find a way. I will break free. And when I do, I will hunt him down. I will face him, one-on-one, and prove to the world that Jaune Arc is not invincible. That no amount of planning or cunning will save him from a woman who has nothing left to lose.

I know it won't be easy. He is, after all, the most dangerous man in Remnant. But I am Cinder Fall. I am the flame that will burn this world in my image and rule over the ashes that remain. And Jaune Arc? He will be nothing more than a smoldering ember beneath my feet.

Mark my words. I will have my revenge. I will destroy Jaune Arc, no matter how many millennia it takes.

...Right after I figure out how to get past these Aura-dampening cuffs."

(Excerpt from Flames of Vengeance: The Memoirs of Cinder Fall, written from Cell #014, Ironwood Penitentiary)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"At this point, I'm pretty sure I'm losing my mind. Like, full-on, going bananas. And no, it's not because of Grimm, or Salem, or any of the usual world-ending stuff. At least, not today. No, it's because everyone - and I mean everyone - thinks I'm some kind of genius hero when I'm not! I'm just a guy! A guy who happens to be alive because the universe finds it funny to let me trip over my own feet and land in success.

I've tried explaining it to them. Over and over and over. 'Hey, Ruby, remember that time I stopped Watts? That wasn't strategy - I tripped! Literally tripped! My juice spilled on the router!' And what does she say? 'Classic Jaune! Always thinking ten steps ahead!'

TEN STEPS AHEAD?! I can't even walk without nearly face-planting! Do you know how hard it is to convince someone you're not a genius when they've already decided you're secretly the Maria Calavera of Grimm fighting? Spoiler: It's impossible. They'll just nod and say, 'Oh, Jaune, you're so humble.' Humble?! That's not humble; it's the truth! I'm practically wearing a neon sign that says, 'NOT A HERO,' and they're all just pointing at it and saying, 'Wow, look how modest he is!'

And then there's Weiss. She used to look at me like I was some kind of slug she accidentally stepped on. Now? Now she's out here writing memoirs about how I'm a tactical genius who outsmarted Cinder Fall! I was literally eating a sandwich in the corner while Cinder gloated about her evil plans, and I didn't even realize she was talking about actual evil plans. I thought she was selling brownies! BROWNIES! And yet, somehow, this gets turned into 'Jaune's strategic brilliance forced her to reveal her plans.' Strategic brilliance, my butt! I just didn't wanna interrupt her monologue and make things awkward!

And Pyrrha? Oh, Pyrrha's the worst of them all. Sweet, kind, amazing Pyrrha...who's apparently decided I'm some kind of saintly figure who 'held the team together through sheer emotional intelligence.' Let me set the record straight: I sat there, nodded a lot, and said, 'That's rough, buddy,' while giving them snacks I got from the vending machine. That's it! That's the entirety of my contribution! But to hear Pyrrha tell it, you'd think I was some kind of wise sage whispering ancient truths. She once wrote an entire poem about my 'calm and collected guidance.' A POEM. What am I supposed to do with that?!

And don't even get me started on strangers. Random people stop me on the street to say things like, 'Oh, Mr. Arc, you're an inspiration!' or 'Thank you for saving Remnant!' They make it sound like I planned all of this, like I sat down and mapped out some elaborate master plan to defeat Salem. Here's the real truth: I threw my sword at her, missed, and somehow that counted as a 'crucial distraction'. A distraction! I was barely aiming for her and completely missed, and now she hates me more than she hates Ozpin! How does that even happen?!

So here I am, losing my grip on reality, while everyone else keeps calling me a hero. No matter what I say, no matter how many times I explain that it was dumb luck, they just nod and say, 'Oh, Jaune, you're too modest.' And the worst part? The absolute worst part? I think I'm starting to believe them.

Maybe I am a hero. Maybe this whole thing isn't dumb luck. Maybe I really am the tactical genius they say I am.

...Or maybe I've just finally snapped.

Either way, send help."

(Excerpt from My Super Secret Diary, by Jaune Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"As I sit here, finally able to enjoy the quiet serenity of retirement, I find myself reflecting on the many lives I've lived, the countless battles I've fought, and the endless cycles of pain and perseverance that have defined my existence. For millennia, I was burdened with the weight of Remnant's survival, the ceaseless struggle against Salem, and the countless sacrifices required to maintain even the faintest glimmer of hope.

But now? Now I can rest. And I owe it all to Jaune Arc.

Let me be clear: I know exactly who and what Jaune Arc is. He is no master tactician, no brilliant warrior, no cunning hero of legend. He is, in the simplest terms, a fraud. A charming, bumbling fraud who stumbled into greatness through a combination of sheer luck, improbable circumstances, and the utterly baffling ability to survive situations that should have killed him ten times over.

And I couldn't be more grateful for him.

For centuries, I bore the responsibility of leading the fight against Salem, of carrying the hopes and dreams of humanity on my shoulders. I watched allies fall, kingdoms crumble, and lives extinguished, all while knowing I could never afford to falter. But then came Jaune Arc - a Huntsman so unremarkable, so utterly unqualified, that even I was astounded when I discovered his forged transcripts.

At first, I considered expelling him from Beacon. What place did he have among future legends like Pyrrha Nikos or Ruby Rose? But as I observed him, something peculiar happened. The boy survived. Time and again, he survived. More than that, he thrived. Where others saw chaos, Jaune found... well, not order, exactly, but something resembling success. And as the tales of his 'heroics' began to spread, I realized something important: Jaune Arc was exactly what Remnant needed.

Not because he was capable - he wasn't. But because people believed he was.

Let's face it: legends are often built on shaky foundations. The people of Remnant don't need the truth; they need hope. They need someone to rally behind, someone whose name inspires confidence and courage. And if that someone happens to be a clumsy, overeager boy with a penchant for dumb luck, so be it.

And so, I let the charade continue. I allowed the myth of Jaune Arc to grow. When his teammates sang his praises, I nodded solemnly. When the Council asked about his role in various missions, I spoke of his 'unparalleled strategic brilliance.' And when the world celebrated his victory over Salem, I smiled politely and clapped along with the rest of them.

Because, you see, Jaune Arc has unknowingly given me something I never thought I'd have: freedom.

For thousands of years, I was the one shouldering the blame when things went wrong. The one carrying the responsibility for every failure, every loss, every tragedy. But now? Now, Jaune Arc can have it. Let him be the hero. Let him bear the weight of the people's expectations. Let him explain how his 'master plan' to defeat Salem was little more than a lucky accident involving a sword throw that missed by twenty feet. I'm done.

It's not that I don't respect Jaune. Quite the contrary. It takes a certain kind of genius - or insanity - to accomplish what he has. But more importantly, it takes a willingness to endure the endless praise, the relentless scrutiny, and the crushing weight of being the world's savior. And Jaune, bless his hapless soul, is willing. Or, at the very least, everyone is too enamored to listen to his protests. Same thing, really.

So here I sit, sipping tea on a quiet porch far from the chaos of the world, watching the sun set on a life filled with far too many complications. Jaune Arc is out there somewhere, tripping his way into more glory, while I enjoy the peace and solitude I've earned a thousand times over.

Do I feel guilty for letting him take the heat? Perhaps a little. But then I remember the centuries I've spent fighting an unwinnable war, and that guilt fades quickly. Jaune wanted to be a Huntsman, after all. He wanted to be a hero. Who am I to deny him the full experience?

Let the world sing of Jaune Arc, the cunning, brilliant savior of Remnant. Let them write their songs and build their statues. And if he ever figures out the truth and comes knocking on my door, demanding answers? Well, I'll pour him a cup of tea, pat him on the shoulder, and tell him what I've always known:

'You'll figure it out, Jaune. You always do. And if you don't, it's not my problem.'"

(Excerpt from A Thousand Lives and One Retirement: The Musings of Ozpin, by Ozpin)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"It is both an honor and a privilege to reflect upon my life with Jaune Arc, my husband, partner, and, dare I say, the most brilliant and loving man in all of Remnant. While many stories have been written about his legendary exploits, his unmatched cunning, and his miraculous victories (many of which I personally witnessed and still find myself marveling over), I feel it is time to shed light on an equally important aspect of his life: our family.

Yes, our family.

Of course, I must begin with the truth - an immutable fact that neither Ruby Rose nor Weiss Schnee will ever admit, no matter how many times I remind them. I am, and always will be, Jaune's First Wife.

They try to claim otherwise. Ruby insists that because she kissed him on the cheek during that one festival years ago, she had some kind of unspoken claim. As if a fleeting moment of childhood embarrassment could ever compare to the years of companionship, trust, and love Jaune and I built together. Weiss, for her part, argues that because she handled many of the legalities surrounding our 'unique' marital arrangement, she is somehow 'officially' the First Wife. To that, I say: paperwork is not love. And while I respect her contributions, I will not allow her to rewrite history.

It was I who first confessed my feelings for Jaune. I who stood by him during our darkest days. I who watched him grow from the endearingly clumsy boy I first met into the confident, wise, and, yes, irresistibly handsome man he is today. I was the first to walk down the aisle with him (nevermind that Weiss and Ruby were right behind me), the first to take his name, the first to stand beside him as his wife. No amount of cheek kisses or bureaucratic nonsense can change that.

Still, despite our disagreements on the matter of titles, I must admit that our shared life with Jaune has been nothing short of extraordinary. To marry a man as brilliant and compassionate as Jaune is to invite joy and adventure into your life every day. To share him with Ruby and Weiss...well, that is to invite chaos.

Our family is large, perhaps larger than most would consider practical. But Jaune, in his infinite wisdom and boundless love, has managed to unite us all. Together, we have raised a truly remarkable brood of children. Thirty-seven in total, at last count. Yes, thirty-seven. And no, I am not exaggerating. The Arc men are very virile, as Ruby's nonuplets (nine) and my septuplets (seven) can attest to. Weiss herself had come out with only a relatively meager quintuplets (five) during her first birth.

Each of our children carries a piece of Jaune's legacy. Some inherited his strategic brilliance, others his selfless heart, and a few - well, let's just say they inherited his penchant for his so-called 'accidental heroics.' The stories of how they've managed to stumble into greatness despite themselves are almost as legendary as Jaune's own exploits. (I sometimes suspect Ruby is encouraging this behavior. It would be just like her to instill a love of chaos in her offspring.)

Life in the Arc household is never dull. Mornings are a symphony of clattering dishes, hurried goodbyes, and the occasional fire in the kitchen. Afternoons are spent tending to our ever-growing list of family projects, from Ruby's attempts to build an airship out of spare parts to Weiss's insistence on teaching all thirty-seven children proper ballroom etiquette. (A hopeless endeavor, if you ask me, but I admire her persistence.) Evenings are filled with laughter, stories, and Jaune's slightly off-key renditions of old lullabies, which somehow always manage to calm even the rowdiest among us.

Through it all, Jaune remains the heart of our family. His patience, kindness, and seemingly endless capacity for love have kept us united, even during the rare moments of conflict. He may not be perfect - his tendency to accidentally break furniture when attempting to 'help' with chores is a point of contention - but he is ours. And we would not trade him for anything in the world.

As I sit here, watching Jaune attempt to build a treehouse for the younger children (a project that has already resulted in three splinters, two misplaced hammers, and one minor Grimm attack), I find myself reflecting on how far we have come. From those early days at Beacon to the bustling chaos of our home today, our journey has been nothing short of incredible.

I am proud to be Jaune's wife. I am proud of the family we have built together. And I will proudly remind anyone who asks - and even those who don't - that I am, and always will be, the First Wife.

Ruby and Weiss may argue otherwise, but history is written by the victors. And this memoir? Well, it's mine."

(Excerpt from First Wife: A Life with Jaune Arc, by Pyrrha Nikos-Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Let me begin by saying that I love my family. Truly, deeply, unconditionally love them. But also, please, for the love of the Brothers, send help.

Thirty-seven kids. Thirty-seven. And three wives. Three. That's not a family; that's a small village. It's like living in a never-ending escort mission where every NPC has terrible AI, and I'm the only one holding the group together. Do you know what it's like to go to bed at night only to wake up because a nonuplet - yes, that's nine kids from one birth, thanks to Ruby - decided to build a makeshift rocket launcher in the backyard using Grimm bones and duct tape? Because I do. And no, I don't know where they found the Grimm bones. Weren't they supposed to disappear on death?

Let me back up a bit.

It all started with Pyrrha, Ruby, and Weiss. You'd think that after everything we went through, one of them would have claimed my heart and left the others to move on. Simple, right? Nope. Not even close. Instead, they all agreed to share me, because apparently, that was the only way to settle the 'argument.' I didn't even know I was part of the argument until they sat me down and said, 'Jaune, we've decided you're marrying all of us. Congratulations!'

'Congratulations,' they said. Like I'd won a contest. Like I'd earned some sort of grand prize.

Yeah. Congratulations to me.

Pyrrha, bless her soul, insists on being the 'First Wife,' which means she takes her role as family matriarch very seriously. She's the one who keeps everyone in line - or tries to. She also keeps a tally of which kids belong to which wife, like it's some kind of scoreboard. ('Ruby, your nonuplets are terrorizing the neighbors again.' 'Weiss, please tell your quintuplets that high tea is not an appropriate setting for dueling lessons.')

Ruby, on the other hand, is the chaos engine. She's like a walking sugar rush, constantly encouraging the kids to build death traps for fun and calling it 'hands-on engineering.' The other day, I caught one of her nonuplets trying to weaponize Crescent Rose as a go-kart. I confiscated it, of course, only for Ruby to give me puppy-dog eyes and say, 'Oh, come on, Jaune, let them experiment! They'll never learn if they don't blow something up first!' I'm pretty sure she was joking. I think.

And then there's Weiss. Weiss is, well, Weiss. She's determined to instill 'culture and refinement' into our kids, which mostly involves forcing them to learn ballroom dancing and proper table manners. Do you know how hard it is to make thirty-seven children sit through etiquette lessons? It's like herding Beowolves. And somehow, Weiss always blames me when it goes wrong. 'Jaune, if you had just been firmer with them, we wouldn't be in this situation.' Firmer? They're children, Weiss, not Atlesian soldiers! And don't think I don't see you spoiling them when you think we're not looking! That shiny new play castle didn't come from nowhere!

And the kids. Oh, Brothers, the kids. I love them, I really do, but they're like a Grimm horde with better coordination. Ruby's nonuplets (I won't name them all, both for the sake of privacy and posterity) are the worst - they're basically a pack of hyperactive mini-Rubies, running around at the speed of sound and leaving destruction in their wake. Pyrrha's septuplets are the 'responsible' ones, which just means they're really good at hiding their chaos until it's too late. And Weiss's quintuplets? They're terrifying. They'll smile sweetly, oh-so polite and charming, while debating the best way to launch a coup against the household. One of them actually wrote a manifesto. A manifesto! She's eight years old!

The rest of the sixteen kids are their own bundles of chaos, but that's a story for another time.

Mornings in the Arc household are like a battle royale. By the time I've dragged myself out of bed, there's usually a kitchen fire (Ruby's doing), an argument over who gets the last pancake batch (Pyrrha's septuplets always win), and at least one Grimm in the backyard because one of the kids thought it would make a 'cool pet.' I'm the one who has to deal with it all because apparently, being the dad means being the designated firefighter, referee, and exterminator.

Evenings aren't much better. By the time we've corralled all thirty-seven kids into bed, I'm so exhausted I could collapse on the spot. But no, because that's when my three wives decide it's 'Jaune Time.' Pyrrha wants to talk about our future. Ruby wants to brainstorm new family activities ('Jaune, let's build a mecha with the kids!'). Weiss wants to discuss household budgeting - because, yes, raising thirty-seven kids is expensive, and no, Weiss still won't let me buy a second-hand Bullhead to make grocery shopping easier.

And that's if they're not feeling in the mood for some fun in the bedroom. Those nights end with me walking around like a dried prune the next day.

And me? All I want is ten minutes of peace. Just ten minutes. Is that too much to ask?

But even as I sit here, writing this in the one quiet moment I've managed to steal all week, I can't help but smile. Because for all the chaos, the sleepless nights, and the sheer insanity of it all, I wouldn't trade this life for anything. Pyrrha's calm strength, Ruby's infectious energy, Weiss's relentless drive - it's a mess, but it's my mess. And those thirty-seven kids? They may drive me up the wall, but they're my pride and joy.

Still, if you're reading this and you happen to have spare hands, an army of babysitters, or, I don't know, a second Jaune, please send help. Seriously. Please. I'm dying here."

(Excerpt from My Super Secret Diary, by Jaune Arc)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"I've read the stories. I've heard the songs. The entire world seems to think my son, Jaune Arc, is some sort of mythical hero. They call him the 'Shield of Remnant,' the 'Unbreakable Strategist,' and my personal favorite, the 'Mastermind of Mayhem'. They spin tales of his cunning, his bravery, his supposed brilliance. But do you want to know the truth?

He's just my little boy. And he's an idiot.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I love Jaune. I love him more than anything in this world (besides my other children and dear husband, of course). But the idea that he's some tactical genius or invincible warrior? That's ridiculous. He's not a hero of legend. He's not even particularly clever. Jaune is just someone who stumbled his way into success through sheer dumb luck and a whole lot of other people covering for him. And frankly? It makes me furious.

Do you know how many sleepless nights I had, wondering if my boy was alive or dead because he decided to forge his transcripts and throw himself into Beacon Academy? Beacon! The premier combat school of Remnant! He could barely swing a sword, and he thought it was a good idea to put himself on the frontlines of the war against Grimm. And for what? To impress some girl? Oh, he tries to tell me it was for a noble cause, but I know the truth. I've seen those school photos. That armor wasn't hiding courage - it was hiding a boy who didn't know which end of the sword was the sharp one.

I've tried calling him out on it. 'Jaune,' I say, 'you're not a hero; you're a hazard to yourself and everyone around you.' And do you know what he does? He says, 'Oh, Mom, I tried to tell them! They won't listen to me!' Won't listen? A likely story. This is the boy who once accidentally set the barn on fire because he thought he could teach himself swordplay using a flaming stick. And now he's the 'Savior of Remnant'? Spare me.

I still remember the first time I heard about one of his so-called 'heroics.' He'd supposedly outsmarted some criminal mastermind - Arthur Watts, I think they called him - by 'strategically' disabling an entire communication network. When Jaune finally came home for a visit, I asked him about it. Do you know what he told me? He said, 'Oh, yeah, I spilled juice on the router. It was an accident.' Juice on the router! And they're calling him a genius!

The same thing happened with Cinder Fall. People act like he unraveled her entire evil plan through sheer brilliance. But when I asked Jaune about it, he just scratched his head and said, 'Uh, I was eating a sandwich in the corner, and she didn't see me. Then I kind of... forgot to tell anyone about it until later.' A sandwich! My son, the 'master tactician,' didn't even realize what he'd overheard!

And don't get me started on the Queen of Grimm. Jaune had the nerve to come home and tell me he 'missed' with his sword throw, and somehow that made him Salem's arch-nemesis. I nearly hit him upside the head with a wooden spoon. 'Jaune Arc,' I said, 'what were you thinking going up against someone like that? Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!' And do you know what he said? He said, 'Mom, it wasn't my idea! They made me go in!' They made him! As if that's any excuse for charging into danger like a fool!

And yet, here we are. Somehow, Jaune survived. More than that, he thrived. Now the whole world sings his praises while I'm sitting here, shaking my head, wondering how my sweet, reckless boy managed to fool everyone into thinking he's the next Ozpin. Honestly, I'm starting to think he has a luck amplification Semblance even though he still doesn't have his Aura unlocked.

But as much as I want to grab him by the ear and lecture him for the rest of his life, I have to admit… he did give me something wonderful: thirty-seven grandbabies. Thirty-seven. Do you know what it's like to walk into a room and be mobbed by dozens of little ones yelling, 'Grandma!' and fighting over who gets to sit in your lap? It's heaven, that's what it is.

Pyrrha's babies are the responsible ones, always helping me with chores or asking about my recipes. Ruby's babies are little tornadoes of energy, constantly trying to show me their latest 'invention' or dragging me outside for Grimm-themed tag. And Weiss' babies? They're a little terrifying, if I'm being honest, but they make the sweetest tea and always insist on hosting 'proper' afternoon gatherings when I visit.

Oh, I love them all. Every single one of them. They're the only reason I haven't grounded Jaune for life for all the reckless nonsense he's pulled. How can I stay mad when I've got thirty-seven pairs of little hands painting me pictures, baking me lopsided cookies, and calling me the 'best Grandma ever'? I can't. I just can't.

So yes, Jaune Arc is reckless. Yes, he's lucky to be alive. And yes, the world may have bought into this ridiculous idea that he's a hero of legend. But he's also my son. And for all his faults - for all the times he's made me want to scream and pull my hair out - I'm proud of him. Not because of his so-called heroics, but because he's managed to build a life filled with love, family, and enough grandbabies to keep me busy for the rest of my days.

Still, if he ever tries to tell me he's 'too busy' to visit again, I'll remind him who changed his diapers and patched up his scraped knees. Hero or not, Jaune Arc is never too big for a lecture from his mother. But as long as he keeps bringing me grandbabies to spoil, I suppose I'll let him off the hook.

For now."

(Excerpt from The Grandmother of Legends: A Memoir, by Isabel Arc)

Jaune just keeps on winning. The literal definition of fake it till you make it. I might make a last chapter focusing on more outsider POV (Ironwood, Yang, Winter etc). We'll see.

Pragmatism, Thy Name is Jaune

Request done for a friend who's dealing with some real life stuff. Jaune was trained by his dad to be a pragmatic survivalist who fights dirty. This clashes hard with the Huntsmen, especially Weiss.

Also, thanks to Titanmaster's review of 'Fake It Till You Make It', I'm thinking of doing a Chapter 2 for that fic from the perspective of the people in awe of Jaune. This is the review in question. The chapter will look like this as well:

"I remember when I first met Jaune Arc. We were standing face to face with a horde of Grimm that numbered in the hundreds. I turned to face him, but then I saw that he was galloping away, letting out a high-pitched cry to draw the Grimm towards him. At first, in my young naivety, I had thought him to be deserting us like a coward. Then, as he crossed over a bridge overlooking a valley, the structure collapsed under the weight of the Grimm, sending them all plummeting to their demise as the cliffs around them crumbled and buried the entire horde in rubble!

Jaune Arc had intentionally led the entire horde over the old bridge, intending for it to crumble and destroy the entire swarm!

It was then, on that day, that I realised that I would follow Jaune Arc to the bitter end!"
(Excerpt from Records of a Harem Matriarch, by Pyrrha Nikos)

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The sparring arena at Beacon Academy was alive with chatter as Jaune Arc and Cardin Winchester stepped into the circle for their combat match. Most students were used to the theatrical, almost choreographed style of Huntsman combat, full of flashy maneuvers and elegant weapon techniques. But with Jaune, there was an air of unpredictability. Everyone knew he fought...differently. Effective, but different.

Ruby sat at the sidelines, flanked by Weiss and Blake. As the team leader and Jaune's partner, she clenched her fists in a show of solidarity, "You got this, Jaune! Just...uh...don't overdo it!" Her voice carried a nervous energy. She wanted to be a good leader and partner, but it was hard not to feel weird having someone so...unconventional watching her back. Huntsmen all fought differently, but there was a certain flair and style to it that every Huntsman had.

Every Huntsman except Jaune.

Weiss crossed her arms, an unimpressed look on her face, "Overdo it? He always overdoes it. Honestly, I don't understand how he's allowed to get away with this nonsense." She shook her head. Weiss wasn't a fan of her partner's tactics. Dishonorable, she said.

Blake scoffed, her golden eyes flicking to the arena, "It's not nonsense if it works."

Ruby bit her lip, "I mean...yeah, but it's still a little weird."

Standing in the corner, Professor Goodwitch raised her hand, "Begin!"

Cardin charged immediately, his mace raised high. The ground trembled slightly with each thunderous step. Cardin was a big brute, using strength and momentum to overpower his opponents. He was kinda like Yang that way, except he didn't have her agility. Jaune didn't flinch. Instead, he casually dipped his hand into his jacket and withdrew a small pouch. When Cardin swung his mace down with a grunt, Jaune sidestepped nimbly, the weapon slamming into the ground with a resounding CLANG. With Cardin briefly off balance, Jaune threw the pouch directly into his face,

"Pocket sand!"

Cardin staggered back, flailing as glowing fire Dust particles clung to his skin, "What the- ARGH! My eyes! Fuck!" he roared, shaking his head to clear the stinging grit.

Ruby winced, "Ooooh, that's...uh...effective?" She'd never seen Dust used like that before. Unless you counted her sneezing and blowing up Weiss' stash during the first day.

Cardin didn't stay down. Blinking through the pain, he swung his mace in a wide arc, forcing Jaune to backpedal quickly. The air whooshed with the force of the attack, but Jaune ducked just in time, letting the weapon sail overhead, "Not bad," Jaune said, grinning as he reached into another pocket, "But let's see how you handle this!"

He slipped past Cardin and flung a small, cylindrical device at the broader Huntsman's back. It stuck to his armor with a sharp clink. Cardin's eyes widened, "What the hell did you just-"

BOOM!

The Dust charge exploded in a burst of smoke and concussive force, throwing Cardin forward. He skidded across the arena floor, metal scraping against metal, smoke curling from the scorched surface of his chest plate. The students watching gasped, some whispering excitedly while others looked shocked. Ruby waved her arms frantically, "Jaune! Was that...was that even allowed?!" She looked to Professor Goodwitch. The strict Professor didn't say anything and just kept watching the proceedings.

"It's fine!" Jaune called over his shoulder, reloading something Ruby really hoped wasn't a shotgun, "He's fine! Right, Cardin?"

Cardin rose slowly to his feet, his face twisted in fury. His chest plate was blackened but intact, and the blast didn't seem to have done much more than knock the wind out of him, "You think that's gonna stop me?!" he growled, hefting his mace again, "You're dead, Arc!"

"Well, you're still standing, so...nope," Jaune replied with a shrug.

"I don't know why you're acting so shocked. Cardin's got an explosive on the tip of his mace," Blake rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but..."

Cardin roared and charged again, swinging with brutal force. This time, Jaune was forced to play defense, using his shield to deflect the heavy blows. Each hit rang out like a bell, and the sheer power of Cardin's attacks made Jaune's arm tremble. Ruby herself never saw the point of tanking hits. No one on Team RJWB (Rhubarb) did. Weiss skated around fights with her Semblance and Blake was like a ninja. Taking hits was just a waste of Aura.

"Alright," Jaune muttered under his breath, sidestepping the next wind-up swing. He reached into his jacket again, this time pulling out a small flashbang. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it to the ground. A blinding light and deafening bang erupted, forcing everyone to shield their eyes - except Jaune, who wore tinted goggles he'd slipped on mid-motion.

"Flashbang?!" Ruby yelped, covering her eyes, "Where does he even get this stuff?"

Cardin stumbled, disoriented, but still upright. He shook his head, his senses quickly returning as he swung his mace wildly, "You're gonna pay for that!" he bellowed, managing to clip Jaune's shield with enough force to send him skidding back.

Jaune grunted as he steadied himself, rubbing his arm, "Dang, you hit like a bull. Guess I'll have to stop holding back."

"Stop holding back?!" Weiss hissed from the sidelines, "What does that even mean? He's already blowing the arena apart!"

Blake hummed, "It means he's going to win.."

Jaune pivoted suddenly, pulling something from his belt. Ruby's stomach dropped as she recognized it: a sawn-off shotgun. And not just any sawn-off. She could tell even it a glance that it was modified to shoot more than regular shells. The frame was reinforced and she could practically feel the heat from the Fire Dust in the buckshot from where she was sitting. She was used to big calibers - Crescent Rose says hello - but still...

"Uh-oh..." Ruby gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

"Oh yes," Jaune said, almost cheerfully, as he pointed the weapon. Cardin, who had finally recovered from the flashbang, started to charge again, but Jaune didn't give him the chance to close the distance.

BANG!

The shot hit Cardin square in the chest, stopping him mid-charge. The force knocked him off his feet, sending him flying back several feet. He hit the ground with a loud thud but somehow managed to roll back onto his knees, his armor dented and smoking. His face was twisted in a mix of rage and disbelief, "That's it!" Cardin shouted, pounding the ground with his fist as he got back to his feet, "You're a dead man, Arc!"

"Still breathing, bird man!" Jaune quipped, reloading calmly.

Cardin lunged forward, his mace swinging with reckless abandon. This time, Jaune wasn't fast enough to dodge entirely, and the mace caught the edge of his shield, the impact sending him spinning. He was flung back but managed to recover, though his shield now sported a noticeable dent, "Not bad," Jaune admitted, shaking his arm to loosen it up, "But let's see how you handle this."

Before Cardin could react, Jaune dropped low, his hand darting to his shotgun. With one smooth motion, he fired again - this time aiming lower.

BANG!

Cardin froze mid-charge. For a moment, the entire room was silent. Then he dropped his mace, his face turning an alarming shade of purple as he let out a high-pitched, strangled groan. His hands clutched his groin as he sank to his knees.

Ruby's face turned bright red, "Oh. My. Gosh. Jaune, what are you doing?!"

"It's called strategy, Ruby!" Jaune replied, stepping back and preparing his next move, "You take out the legs, you take out the fight! See!" He gestured to Cardin, who let out a whine so high-pitched that Zwei would've thought it was a dog whistle.

Weiss looked like she was about to faint, "He...he shot him in the- "

"I know!" Ruby wailed, covering her face, "I'm trying to support him, but...I don't even know how to feel about this!"

Cardin, despite the devastating shot, managed to push himself back to his feet, his breathing ragged. His mace dragged on the ground as he glared daggers at Jaune, "You're gonna regret that, Arc. I swear-"

"Come on, then!" Jaune called, grinning, "I'm just getting started! He who stands last wins!"

The fight continued, both combatants battered but far from done, as the rest of the class watched in stunned silence.

Back at the side of the arena, Weiss sighed, her arms crossed tightly as she watched Arc and Winchester clash in the sparring arena. The combat class had devolved, as far as Weiss was concerned, into a spectacle of impropriety. Jaune's so-called 'fighting style' was little more than a patchwork of cheap tricks and dirty tactics, and it was grating on her nerves. It was an embarassment to think she was on the same team as him.

She huffed as Arc rolled under another wild swing from Winchester's mace, dusting himself off as if the maneuver was the most natural thing in the world, "I can't believe Professor Goodwitch is letting this continue," Weiss muttered, her voice low but sharp, "This isn't combat. This is an embarrassment." The Professor said nothing as the travesty continued, simply looking on at the fight and the Aura bars on the screen above.

Beside her, Blake sat with one leg crossed over the other, her golden eyes fixed on the fight, "It's not pretty," Blake admitted, her tone calm as always, "But it's effective."

Weiss scoffed, her lips curling into a thin line, "Effective? This isn't how a Huntsman should fight! There's no discipline, no grace, no- " she gestured toward the arena as Jaune flung a handful of what she could only describe as glittering fire Dust straight into Cardin's face again, "-honor!"

Blake's mouth twitched slightly, but her expression remained neutral, "Honor doesn't keep you alive in a real fight," she replied evenly, "Effectiveness does."

Weiss rounded on her teammate, her icy blue eyes narrowing, "Are you seriously defending this? Huntsmen are supposed to be paragons of strength and skill. We're supposed to inspire people, Blake! Be beacons of hope! How are we supposed to do that if Arc's idea of inspiration is...is...pocket sand?!"

Blake tilted her head, her gaze flicking briefly to Weiss before returning to the arena, "We're supposed to protect people, Weiss," she said, her tone pointed but still calm, "That's the job. If you're fighting a Beowolf, do you think it cares if you fight honorably? Or a bandit? They'll do whatever it takes to win, and so should we. The people you're saving will care a lot more that you're successful than 'honorable', whatever that means to you."

Weiss threw up her hands, "So you think fighting like a common criminal is acceptable?"

Blake's golden eyes met hers, steady and unyielding, "If it works, yes."

Weiss opened her mouth to retort, but her words were drowned out by a loud BANG! from the arena. Both women turned just in time to see Winchester, now with his entire chestplate covered in a thick blanket of soot, roaring with rage as he launched himself at Arc, his mace swinging like a wrecking ball. Arc blocked with his dented shield, but the impact sent him staggering.

"See?" Weiss gestured to Winchester's sheer brute force, "That is real combat. Strength, precision, power!"

Blake raised an eyebrow, "You mean blindly swinging a mace around until someone gets hit while screaming like a stuck pig?"

"He's not- " Weiss began, but she was interrupted by Jaune pulling something small and cylindrical from his belt. Her stomach sank.

"Not again..." Ruby's voice came from Weiss' other side, quiet and nervous.

Arc tossed the device underhanded, and Weiss instinctively knew what was coming, "Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered as another flashbang detonated, flooding the room with light and sound. She shielded her eyes with one hand, gritting her teeth. When the brightness faded, she could already hear the murmurs and gasps from the other students.

Blake's lips twitched into the faintest of smirks, "Looks like he's winning."

Weiss lowered her hand, her face a mix of exasperation and disbelief, "Winning? He's making a mockery of combat! A Huntsman should fight with honor and dignity, not...whatever that was!"

Blake tilted her head, "And if his 'mockery' keeps him alive when a bandit takes a cheap shot or a Grimm corners him, what then? Will honor protect him? Or will practicality? What about the people we're supposed to protect? Practicality lets you defend others, not honor rules."

Weiss didn't answer immediately, her eyes narrowing as she watched Arc dodge yet another swing from Winchester. He moved quickly, planting a Dust charge on Winchester's leg with a practiced ease that Weiss hated to admit was impressive. The device beeped twice before detonating, sending the taller man sprawling back with a frustrated grunt.

"That's not the point," Weiss finally said, her voice tight, "We have standards, Blake. Standards that separate us from...from barbarians."

Blake gave her a sidelong glance, "You're from Atlas. Standards don't matter much when you're fighting to survive. Maybe you should think about that."

Weiss bristled, her cheeks flushing slightly, "Atlas has nothing to do with this! It's about being a Huntsman. Arc's just- he's just- "

"Winning," Blake finished for her, her tone leaving no room for argument

Weiss sputtered, gesturing at the arena as Jaune reloaded his sawed-off shotgun with practiced efficiency, "You can't seriously call this winning! Look at him!"

Blake's eyes flicked back to the match, her expression unreadable, "And now Cardin's on his knees."

"Because he's a brute, not because Jaune's doing anything remotely admirable!" Before Blake could respond, another BANG! echoed through the room. Weiss's face paled as she realized where Arc had aimed once more.

"Oh. My. Gods," Ruby whispered, her hands flying to her mouth, "He shot him there again! I-Is he- Can he still have kids?"

Weiss turned sharply to Blake, her voice rising, "You cannot defend this anymore!"

Blake's calm demeanor didn't falter, "Cardin's still moving."

As if on cue, Cardin rose shakily to his feet, his breathing ragged and his face twisted in fury. His mace dragged behind him as he glared daggers at Jaune, who grinned and gestured for him to come closer.

"Ready to give up?" Jaune called out cheerfully, his voice carrying across the arena.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose, her voice strained, "This is an absolute travesty."

Blake shrugged lightly, "This is survival."

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The Beacon cafeteria was a bustling hub of activity, with students chatting and laughing as they unwound from the day's classes. At one table, Team RJWB (which Ruby still hated meant Rhubarb) was seated with trays of food, though the atmosphere was far from relaxed. Weiss sat ramrod straight, delicately slicing into a modest salad, her lips pressed into a thin line, "I still cannot believe the barbarity I witnessed today," she muttered, shaking her head, "That wasn't combat. That was...that was thuggery!"

Across from her, Jaune grinned as he leaned back in his chair, a drumstick in hand, "Hey, Weiss, you're welcome to step in the ring with Cardin next time. I'll even lend you my shotgun if you want."

Weiss shot him a glare, her blue eyes icy, "I would rather lose with dignity than win using such disgraceful methods!"

Ruby, seated next to Jaune, poked at her mashed potatoes with her fork, "I don't know, Weiss. Dignity doesn't sound that great when you're eating dirt." She glanced nervously at Jaune, "Not that I'm saying you're wrong! It's just...um...well, he did win." Cardin spent the whole rest of the class with murder in his eyes, but Jaune didn't care. He said he dealt with worse than 'butthurt bullies' back home.

"Exactly!" Jaune said, taking a triumphant bite of his drumstick, "It's all about results!"

Blake, seated next to Weiss, quietly sipped her tea before setting the cup down and turning to Jaune, "I've been meaning to ask," she said, "Where did you learn to fight like that? It's...unconventional."

Jaune smiled proudly, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms, "My dad taught me. Started me off young. Said if you're ever in a fight for your life, you do whatever it takes to make sure you walk away. Honor's nice and all, but it won't stop a bandit from stabbing you in the back." He chuckled, "'Course, sometimes it was just fun. He once told me, 'Jaune, nothing's funnier than a bandit who thinks they've got the upper hand right before you set off the fireworks.'"

Ruby giggled despite herself, her imagination conjuring a vision of a mini-Jaune setting off some kind of Dust-powered explosion while a bandit scrambled to escape, "Okay, that's kinda funny," she admitted.

Weiss sniffed, her chin lifting slightly, "Then I'm afraid your father failed you in teaching proper combat etiquette. He should've taught you to fight with honor."

Jaune shrugged, unbothered, "Honor's great and all, but last I checked, bandits don't really care about it. You think they're gonna bow and wait for me to finish a fancy move? Nah, they'll stab me in the back soon as they get the chance."

Weiss bristled, stabbing her fork into her salad with unnecessary force, "That doesn't mean you have to stoop to their level. Huntsmen are supposed to be better than that."

Blake tilted her head, her golden eyes flicking between Weiss and Jaune. Then, with her usual deadpan, she asked, "So, Weiss, how many bandits did you fight from your mansion in Atlas?"

The fork in Weiss's hand froze midair. She turned to Blake, her cheeks coloring slightly, "That's completely irrelevant!"

"Is it?" Blake asked, raising an eyebrow, "I mean, you're not exactly speaking from experience. Have you ever even seen a bandit? Cause you're sure judging a lot. Almost sounds like you're an expert on fighting Grimm and other criminals outside the walls."

"I don't need to have personally fought them to know that dignity and honor are core principles of being a Huntsman!" Weiss huffed, crossing her arms, "My combat instructors taught me that."

"Sounds like they taught you how to fight other people who follow the rules," Jaune said, "Not much help when someone throws sand in your face."

"Exactly," Blake said, nodding, "Adaptability matters more than honor when you're fighting to survive. Bandits, Grimm...neither of them play fair."

Weiss's cheeks puffed in indignation, and she turned to Ruby for support, "Ruby, surely you agree with me! You were raised in a Huntsman family, were you not? They must've taught you the proper etiquette!"

Ruby froze mid-bite, her mouth full of mashed potatoes. She glanced between Weiss's expectant stare and Jaune's raised eyebrow. Swallowing hurriedly, she laughed nervously, "Uh...I think you both make good points?" she offered, her voice pitched higher than usual. She hated fights. It wasn't like she didn't get why Weiss was peeved, but it wasn't like Jaune was bugging Weiss about the way she fought. Why didn't she just let bygones be bygones?

Jaune chuckled, "Nice save, Ruby."

"Don't encourage him, Ruby!" Weiss snapped before fixing Jaune with a stern glare, "The point is, as Huntsmen, we should be setting an example. How are we supposed to inspire people if we resort to dirty tricks and crude ploys?"

Jaune leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, "We inspire them by surviving. Nothing says 'hope' like someone who makes it back alive to tell the tale."

Blake hummed, "Practicality wins again."

Weiss groaned, slumping back in her chair, "I give up. You're all impossible."

Ruby giggled nervously, trying to lighten the mood, "Come on, Weiss, don't be mad. At least Jaune's your teammate now. Imagine if he were on Cardin's team."

Weiss shuddered at the thought, "I don't even want to imagine the chaos that would bring."

Jaune grinned, "See? You've got it good, Weiss."

Weiss muttered something under her breath about uncouth behavior and barbarism, and Ruby couldn't help but laugh awkwardly. The tension at the table was thick enough to cut with Weiss's precision-forged steak knife (seriously, she brought that from Atlas). Ruby nervously glanced between Weiss, who was clearly still fuming about their earlier argument, and Jaune, who seemed oblivious as he tore into a drumstick with the appetite of someone who'd spent years on rations. Blake sat quietly, sipping her tea, her expression unreadable as always.

Desperate to steer the conversation into safer waters, Ruby's eyes landed on Jaune's shotgun, which rested on the table like some war trophy. Her face lit up with an idea, "Hey, Jaune!" she piped up, forcing some cheer into her voice, "Your shotgun's...uh...really cool! I noticed it's not like most standard ones. Did you do all the modifications yourself?"

Jaune paused, glancing at the weapon, "Oh, yeah," he said, perking up slightly, "That's Betsy. Put her together back home. My dad always said if you want something done right, you do it yourself." He placed the drumstick down and picked up the weapon with the same kind of care she treated Crescent Rose, "Swapped out the stock, reinforced the frame for heavier Dust rounds, and tuned the chamber to handle explosive slugs. It's not pretty, but it works."

Ruby's silver eyes gleamed as she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands, "Wait, you can fire explosive slugs?!" she gasped, the tension in the air momentarily forgotten. She saw him shooting Fire Dust rounds earlier, but not explosive shot, "What kind of explosive? Fire? Electric? Oh! Do you have to reinforce the barrel to handle the extra combustion? And what about recoil dampeners? How do you keep the kickback from knocking it out of your hands?" Ember Celica might've been stupid hard to use (in Ruby's humble opinion), but at least it was hard to disarm from Yang. Well, unless you literally disarmed her, but what were the chances of that?

Jaune blinked at her barrage of questions but managed a small smile, "Uh, mostly Fire Dust rounds. They're good for close-range bursts. The recoil's heavy, sure, but I just brace for it. As for the barrel...I guess I reinforced it a little?" He scratched his head, clearly unused to Ruby's level of enthusiasm. A lot of people were, sadly, "Honestly, I wasn't thinking about all that when I built it. I just made it tough enough not to explode in my hands."

Ruby leaned back, a dreamy smile spreading across her face as her mind conjured images of modified weapons, "That's so cool," she murmured, her previous nerves all but forgotten, "I mean, yeah, it's no Crescent Rose, but still, that kind of power must be-"

"Mechashift weapons are impractical," Jaune said suddenly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He was still inspecting Betsy, his tone matter-of-fact, "I mean, they're cool, sure, but in a real fight? Too many moving parts. One jam, and you're toast."

The table went silent. Weiss, who had been slicing into her salad with clinical precision, paused mid-motion. Blake glanced briefly at Jaune but said nothing. And Ruby? Ruby froze, her fork hovering above her mashed potatoes as her eyes widened in disbelief. Did he just...did he really...?

"What did you just say?" Ruby's voice was soft but carried a dangerous edge.

Jaune looked up, blinking at her, "Huh? Oh, mechashift weapons," he repeated, clearly not realizing he had touched a nerve. A vein bulged on her forehead, "I mean, don't get me wrong, Crescent Rose is impressive, but where I'm from, simple and reliable gets the job done. Mechashift's got a lot of room for things to go wrong."

Ruby's mouth fell open slightly, her expression a mix of shock and horror, "Room to- things to- Jaune, mechashift isn't just cool! It's...It's revolutionary! It's adaptable, versatile, and...and beautiful!" Her voice rose with each word as her emotions spilled over. Usually, she hated speaking up like this, but she refused to back down when weapons were at stake!

Jaune blinked, looking genuinely confused by her reaction, "I'm not saying it's not impressive, Ruby. I just think it's...well, kinda overcomplicated. Like, why have a scythe and a sniper rifle in one weapon? Why not just have one good weapon that does what it's supposed to do?"

Ruby gasped like he'd just committed a mortal sin, "Because mechashift is the future! Crescent Rose can do everything! It's not just a weapon; it's an extension of me! How could you even think it's impractical?!"

Weiss, sensing an opportunity to jump in, straightened her posture and nodded firmly, "I couldn't agree more, Ruby. A Huntsman's weapon reflects their skill and refinement. Jaune's...shotgun, while functional, lacks any sense of elegance or sophistication." Ruby nodded, not caring that Weiss was trying to hop on the bandwagon.

Jaune frowned, scratching the back of his head, "I mean...it's not supposed to be elegant. It's just supposed to work."

"Exactly my point," Weiss said, her tone triumphant, "It's functional, yes, but Huntsmen are meant to inspire. How are you supposed to inspire anyone with that...thing?"

Blake finally set down her teacup, "So, what inspires you more, Weiss?" she asked, her tone level, "A weapon that looks nice or one that saves your life?"

Weiss turned to Blake, her cheeks reddening slightly, "It's not about looks, Blake! It's about skill, precision, and refinement."

"And how many battles have you fought where Grimm or bandits cared about your precision or refinement?" Blake asked evenly, her golden eyes steady, "Weapons are tools. What matters is that they work. Gambol Shroud is mechashift too, but it's not really a big deal. And I've got a backup. There's a reason the sheath can double as a weapon. That way, if the mechashift jams I still have something to fall back on. What happens to you or Ruby if a mechanism fails?"

Weiss bristled, crossing her arms tightly, "That's not the point! Huntsmen should aspire to more than just brute efficiency."

Ruby, still fuming, leaned forward to face Jaune, "Crescent Rose is not brute efficiency! She's perfect!"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who said that!" Jaune yelped, "And I didn't say she wasn't perfect for you. I just think for someone like me, mechashift's more trouble than it's worth. Betsy's reliable. I know what she can do, and I know she won't fail me when it counts."

Ruby groaned, burying her face in her hands, "You just don't get it!"

Jaune looked helplessly at Blake, who gave him a small shrug as if to say, You walked into this.

Weiss huffed and resumed picking at her salad, muttering something under her breath again. Ruby sat back with a pout, shooting Jaune occasional glares. The quiet returned to the table, though the mood remained tense. Blake sipped her tea and glanced between her teammates, "You know," she said lightly, "this is exactly why I don't bring up the merits of dual-wielding. Everyone's got an opinion."

Ruby's pout deepened as the silence stretched across the table, her mashed potatoes growing colder with every second she glared at Jaune. Weiss was stabbing at her salad like it had personally offended her, while Blake continued sipping her tea, her expression as calm as ever. But Ruby wasn't ready to let this go. Oh no. Not when the very honor of mechashift weaponry was on the line! How dare he imply it was anything but the pinnacle of weapons engineering?!

She leaned forward, her silver eyes blazing with determination, "Jaune, you don't understand. Mechashift isn't just about function - it's about art! About taking something practical and turning it into something beautiful. Crescent Rose isn't just a weapon; she's a masterpiece!"

Jaune, still looking a little lost, offered her a sheepish smile, "I mean, yeah, I can see how you'd think that," he said, scratching the back of his head, "And Crescent Rose is cool, Ruby, don't get me wrong. But...it's just..." He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words.

Ruby narrowed her eyes, "It's just what, Jaune?"

He winced slightly but pressed on, "It's just...the last time I saw a scythe, it was, uh, with the farmers back home? So, you know, it's kinda weird seeing one used as a weapon. Scythes are for cutting wheat in the fields, not Grimm."

The silence that followed was deafening. Weiss froze, her fork held in a vice-grip. Blake's teacup paused on its way to her lips. And Ruby? Ruby's entire body twitched as if she'd just been shot, "Excuse me?!" she screeched, her voice cracking. Her hands slammed down on the table, rattling the trays. A few students turned to look at her, but they quickly looked away when she glared at them. That's right! Don't mess with this Rose! "Weird?! Did you just call Crescent Rose weird?!"

Jaune flinched, holding up his hands defensively, "No, no, no! That's not what I meant! I meant...well, okay, yeah, it's kind of weird to me, but - "

"Weird?!" Ruby interrupted, her voice rising to a near-hysterical pitch, "Crescent Rose is not weird! She's iconic! She's revolutionary! She's- She's- "

"Cuts through Grimm like they're wheat?" Jaune offered hesitantly, instantly regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Ruby let out a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a growl, her fists trembling at her sides, "A wheat cutter?!" she repeated, her face turning as red as her cloak, "Crescent Rose is a scythe! A Huntsman weapon of unparalleled brilliance! She's sleek, powerful, and- " She paused, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, " - not a wheat cutter."

Weiss, seeing that Ruby was one misplaced comment away from combusting, pretended to be deeply engrossed in her salad. Blake, meanwhile, leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable as she started eating her tuna sandwich. It was clear neither of them intended to get involved in this particular disaster.

Jaune, still trying to defuse the situation, laughed nervously, "I mean, hey, I'm not saying it's bad, Ruby. It's just...you know, different? Unique! Yeah, that's the word. Unique!" He grinned, clearly hoping the compliment would calm her down.

It did not.

"Different?!" Ruby exploded, throwing her hands in the air, "Do you know what else is different, Jaune? A chainsaw! Or...Or a grappling hook! But you don't see anyone calling those weird!"

"Uh..." Jaune glanced at Blake, hoping for backup, but she ignored him. Weiss, for her part, pointedly avoided his gaze, as if pretending he didn't exist.

Ruby leaned across the table, jabbing a finger in Jaune's direction, "You take that back right now!" she demanded, her voice trembling with righteous indignation.

"Take what back?!" Jaune yelped, leaning away from her as far as his chair would allow.

"That Crescent Rose is weird!" Ruby snapped, "Say it! Say, 'Crescent Rose is a brilliant, amazing, totally-not-weird weapon!'"

Jaune opened his mouth to reply but hesitated, clearly struggling to navigate the minefield he'd stumbled into, "Uh...Crescent Rose is...definitely not for wheat?" he tried.

Ruby let out an anguished groan, slumping back into her seat and burying her face in her hands, "You don't get it, Jaune," she moaned, her voice muffled, "You just don't get it!"

Weiss sighed, finally breaking her silence, "Ruby, you can't expect someone like Jaune to appreciate the artistry of mechashift. He clearly lacks the refinement to understand true craftsmanship."

Jaune frowned, "Hey, that's not fair! I just think simpler is better."

Ruby peeked out from behind her hands, her expression somewhere between exasperation and heartbreak, "Simple doesn't mean better, Jaune. Crescent Rose is more than a weapon. She's a work of art. A symphony of engineering! How could anyone look at her and think she's weird?!"

"Sure," Jaune said quickly, eager to end the argument, "She's a symphony. Got it."

"Good." Ruby crossed her arms, still sulking, "And she's not weird."

"Definitely not weird," Jaune agreed, though he still looked mildly confused.

Blake, finally deciding to speak, set her sandwich down and glanced between them, "Well, that was something."

Weiss shot her a withering look, "You could have intervened."

Blake shrugged, "I wasn't about to get between Ruby and Crescent Rose. I like my head where it is."

Weiss muttered something about 'useless teammates' while Ruby returned to sulking, her pride in Crescent Rose bruised but not broken. She'd prove him wrong in the end. When Crescent Rose took down a goliath with one swing, then he'd see!

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Poor Jaune. Just wants to be a pragmatic dirty fighter and gets ragged on by the Huntsmen using anime logic. Thankfully, Blake is Best Girl in this fic and gets that fairness and honor are bullshit in real fights.

Team Rizzless - Chapter 6

Chapter 6. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but then I dragged it out too long. Same mistake. So think of this chapter as setup for the Ruby/Pyrrha/Jaune throuple while the next one goes into detail.

On the bright side, that means the next chapter will have smut. My first ever written threesome, I think. So yeah...hope you guys enjoy.

For clarification, this chapter takes place after the 'Invincible L' omake, so Pyrrha is just a normal, nice girl who's been cursed by her petty ancestor.

For anyone interested in making a commission, email me at: storylover543@gmail.com

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Ruby had never considered herself the kind of person to rub her victories in anyone's face. She was a leader, after all. A Huntress in training. The picture of maturity and selflessness. While many Huntresses were driven by their ego (or, more likely, thinking they could get men's attention), she'd been in it for the heroics. Saving innocent people from the Grimm, singlehandedly turning the tide when a horde had come bearing down on a village...it was her dream ever since mom read her the fairy tales. So she promised herself that she'd be the best she could be.

...

But when it came to her team? Oh, she was going to milk this for all it was worth.

It wasn't her fault, really. They started it! Weeks of teasing, needling, and outright accusations that she was just some White Knight who pretended to care about heroism to catch a guy. Weeks of watching them stomp around Vale, scaring off any poor soul who made the mistake of making eye contact, only to drag their frustrated, thirsty selves back to the dorm, whining about how men just didn't appreciate them.

And then there were the days of demands once she started dating Jaune. 'Come on, Ruby, you're our leader! You should set an example and share!', Yang said, going for the 'leader' argument once the 'sister' one failed. As if Jaune was some kind of community boyfriend they could pass around like a snack platter.

And now? Now it was Ruby's turn to bask in the glow of karmic justice.

It wasn't bragging, she told herself, smiling brightly as she spotted Jaune in the hallway. It wasn't like she was going around announcing, 'Hey, I have a boyfriend and you don't!' No, all she did was show her happiness. If her team just happened to see her and Jaune holding hands or exchanging sweet smiles and started seething? Well, that was their problem, not hers. Like mom always said, the best revenge is a life well-lived. It was a motto she and 'Auntie' Raven had to live by. Being the only two Huntresses in their generation to ever get laid led to a lot of bitterness and envy.

"Ruby!" Jaune's face lit up as she approached, and Ruby felt a flutter in her chest. No matter how many times they met up, his enthusiasm never failed to make her giddy.

"Jaune!" she chirped, practically skipping toward him. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. She felt him stiffen slightly - he was still getting used to public displays of affection, so cute! - but he quickly relaxed, his hands settling awkwardly on her waist.

"Someone's in a good mood," he said, his cheeks dusted pink.

"Of course I am! I get to see my boyfriend," She said sweetly, giving his arm a little squeeze. Ooh, firm. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Weiss standing at the end of the hall, her face twisted in a mask of envy and barely concealed irritation. Ruby's grin widened just a bit, "Oh, hey, Weiss!" she called, her voice bright and cheerful, "Did you need something?"

Weiss stiffened, her lips pursing into a tight line, "No," she said curtly, before spinning on her heel and storming off, her ponytail swishing dramatically behind her.

Ruby let out a soft giggle, leaning into Jaune's side, "She's so busy all the time. Poor Weiss."

Jaune raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He'd quickly learned that Ruby's cheerful demeanor often hid a devious streak, especially when it came to her team. He didn't mind it, as he was quick to assure her. He liked that she had 'bite', to use his words.

The two of them continued down the hallway, chatting about their plans for the weekend. Ruby was aware of the stares they were getting. Blake lurking behind a corner, her amber eyes peering out just enough to shoot daggers at Ruby's back. Or Yang, lounging against the wall with crossed arms, looking like she was ready to snap her scroll in half. Their eyes burned with envy with Blake barely trying to hide it and Yang just openly glaring.

Ruby ignored them all, her focus entirely on Jaune.

"You think we should try that new coffee shop in Vale?" Jaune asked, his expression thoughtful.

"Sounds perfect!" Ruby said, her voice dripping with sweetness. She reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from his face, her fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, "You always have the best ideas, Jaune."

Behind them, Yang made a noise somewhere between a growl and a strangled cry. Ruby bit back a laugh.

By the time they parted ways an hour later, Ruby was practically floating back to the dorm. She opened the door with a cheerful hum, her eyes sparkling as she took in the sight of her team. Yang was sprawled on her bed, her face buried in a pillow. Blake was furiously scribbling in her notebook, probably writing some tragic poetry about unrequited love (or self0insert fanfction). Weiss was sitting stiffly at her desk, her fingers gripping a pen so tightly Ruby was surprised it hadn't snapped.

"Hi, guys!" Ruby chirped, plopping onto her bed with a bounce.

The three of them glared at her in unison.

"You're insufferable," Weiss said, her voice cold.

"What did I do?" Ruby asked with an expression of pure innocence.

"You know what you did," Blake muttered, not looking up from her notebook.

Yang sat up, her hair a tangled mess, and pointed an accusatory finger, "You're flaunting it, Rubes! Flaunting your relationship with Jaune!" Her eyes were red. Ooh, she was mad. Normally that might've made her nervous, but right now she just felt calm. Light. It was just more proof that she was the mature one and her team were just desperate little girls who couldn't hold a candle to her. Ruby Rose, the girl who got the guy and was on the way to accomplishing her dream.

Ruby blinked, tilting her head in mock confusion, "Flaunting? I'm just happy. Isn't that what we all want to be? Happy?"

Yang groaned, flopping back onto her bed, "I hate you."

Ruby smiled sweetly, her voice syrupy, "Love you too, Yang!"

She laid back on her bed, folding her arms behind her head as she basked in the simmering frustration radiating from her teammates. Maybe it was petty. Maybe it was even mean. But after weeks of dealing with their crap, seeing them seethe and mald was oh so satisfying.

After all, it wasn't like she was rubbing it in their faces. She was just...enjoying life. Publicly. With her amazing boyfriend. And if that made them jealous? Well, maybe they should've thought about that before trying to convince her to share him! They could whine all they want. Jaune was her's, and she'd made dang sure the whole world knew it. Every Huntress in Beacon knew that Jaune Arc was Ruby Rose's man and they weren't anything they could do about it!

The atmosphere in the dorm room was tense, the kind of tension that made Ruby want to laugh if it weren't so ridiculous. She sat cross-legged on her bed, idly munching on a cookie, while her teammates circled her like predators eyeing prey. Yang was the first to break the silence, her arms crossed and her expression one of barely restrained annoyance, "Alright, Rubes, we need to talk."

Ruby raised an eyebrow, swallowing her bite of cookie before answering, "We're always talking, Yang. What's the big deal now?"

"The big deal," Weiss cut in, her tone icy and sharp, "is that you're being incredibly selfish."

Ruby tilted her head innocently, "Selfish? How?"

"You know how!" Blake's voice was unusually forceful, her amber eyes narrowing, "You're keeping Jaune all to yourself."

"Uh-huh..." Ruby nodded slowly, pretending like she understood, "And?"

"And it's not fair!" Yang threw her hands up, "We're your team! Your sisters in arms! I'm your literal sister from the same mister! How can you not share him with us?"

Ruby smiled, sweet and serene, her tone dripping with sugary malice, "Oh, I remember this conversation. Didn't I already make you an offer?" The three of them exchanged awkward glances, clearly dreading what was coming next. Ruby leaned back against her pillows, taking her time to finish the cookie before speaking again, "I told you." She picked up another cookie, "If you really want Jaune that badly, you need to apologize for all the crap you gave me and beg."

Weiss stiffened, "Beg?" The word sounded foreign to her, as if she was tasting the single syllable. Weiss probably never had to beg for anything in her life. She always demanded, even when it didn't work.

"Yup." Ruby's grin widened, her voice still as sweet as honey, "Get on your knees, say you're sorry, and MAYBE I'll let you watch from the corner next time Jaune and I fuck. But no touching."

The room went silent. Yang's jaw dropped, Blake looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her whole, and Weiss's cheeks turned crimson with a mixture of fury and jealousy, "That's..." Yang sputtered, searching for words, "That's not...that's messed up, Ruby!"

"Oh, I'm the messed-up one?" Ruby said, her smile still there, "I'm not the one who's been trying to guilt-trip me into handing over my boyfriend like he's a free sample at a Dust expo!"

"That's not- " Weiss started, but Ruby cut her off with a pointed look.

"Oh, it absolutely is," Ruby said, her tone still calm but with a sharp edge, "You're all acting like Jaune's some kind of prize you deserve just because you're all thirsty and desperate. Newsflash, he's not. He's my boyfriend. He's with me because he wants to be with me. Not you. Me."

Blake crossed her arms, trying to regain some composure, "You don't have to rub it in, Ruby." Her words were calm, but Ruby could see the jealousy and resentment simmering underneath clear as day.

"Rubbing it in?" Ruby threw her hands up, "You're the ones who keep bringing it up! I was perfectly happy just enjoying my relationship and minding my own business, but nooo, you had to make it a thing!" Okay, maybe she'd bragged the day after, but that was after weeks of dealing with their bullcrap. They were the ones who escalated to asking - or in Weiss' case, demanding - she share Jaune like he was the communal stew, "So yeah, if you really want to be involved so badly, you know my terms. Otherwise? Leave me alone."

The three of them stared at her, each one visibly grappling with their own pride and desperation. Ruby leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she watched them squirm. She could tell they were at least slightly tempted, which both grossed her out (especially for Yang) and only added to her smugness.

"Well?" she prompted, her voice light and teasing, "I'm waiting."

Yang groaned, throwing herself back onto her bed, "Forget it. You're impossible." Blake muttered something under her breath and went back to her notebook, clearly defeated. Weiss sniffed indignantly, turning back to her desk as if the conversation had never happened. Huh, so they did still have some pride left.

Ruby smiled to herself, leaning back against her pillows. She didn't gloat, at least not outwardly, but the warm satisfaction in her chest was undeniable. After everything they'd put her through, it felt good to have the upper hand for once.

As for her offer? She doubted they'd ever take her up on it. But the thought of them actually begging - on their knees, apologizing for weeks of cattiness - was enough to keep her smiling for the rest of the night. And if they did take the bait? Well, they could watch like the pathetic little girls they were.

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Ruby didn't go out of her way to antagonize the other Huntresses at Beacon. Really, she didn't. She wasn't like Weiss with her haughty sneers or Yang with her not-so-subtle digs. But if the rest of the Huntresses couldn't handle a little PDA between her and Jaune? Well, that sounded like a them problem. She'd seen the way they glared whenever she and Jaune walked through the courtyard, hand in hand. The barely concealed envy in their eyes. The whispered comments that were just loud enough for her to hear.

"Can you believe her?"

"She's not even that pretty."

"He's only with her because she got to him first."

It was almost funny. She knew exactly how they felt because she'd spent weeks dealing with the same attitude from her team. But unlike her team, who she had no problem throwing shade at, Ruby had decided to take the high road.

Mostly.

It wasn't her fault she and Jaune were happy together. And it wasn't her fault that the rest of Beacon's Huntresses couldn't figure out how to stop creeping guys out long enough to get a date. She wasn't going to hide her relationship just because they couldn't handle it.

So when Jaune met her after class and gave her a warm smile, Ruby didn't hesitate to hug him tightly, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. She felt the weight of the stares on her back, the palpable jealousy radiating from every direction, and smiled to herself as she took his hand and started walking toward the cafeteria.

"Did you finish all your paperwork?" she asked sweetly, swinging their joined hands as they walked. Being with him made her feel so light and carefree.

"Yeah, finally," Jaune said with a chuckle, "Doctor Wood keeps finding new ways to make it boring, though. I swear he's doing it on purpose."

Ruby laughed, soft and sweet, and leaned her head against his shoulder, "Well, you've earned a break. Let me spoil you a little, okay?"

Jaune blushed faintly, but he didn't protest. Behind them, a group of Huntresses standing by the lockers exchanged dark looks, muttering under their breaths. Ruby caught snippets like 'What does he even see in her?' and 'She's just rubbing it in our faces.'

She ignored them. Let them stew.

But the real drama came when one of the professors, Professor Peach, decided to pull her aside after class. Ruby hadn't had much interaction with Professor Peach before - botany class wasn't exactly her favorite - but she knew the woman had a reputation for being strict, maybe even more than Headmistress Goodwitch.

"Miss Rose," Professor Peach said, her voice sharp and clipped, "May I have a word?"

Ruby nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "Sure, Professor. What's up?"

Professor Peach's lips thinned into a line, "I've noticed your...interactions with Mr. Arc. While I understand that relationships among students are not prohibited-" Ruby almost laughed. The only Huntress who ever tried to date another student was Coco, and she was so bad at it Ruby doubted she'd have any luck even if the students weren't all straight, "-I must remind you that he is a staff member. Public displays of affection between a student and a staff member are, at best, highly inappropriate. At worst, they're illegal."

Ruby raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. Really? She had to deal with this now? "With all due respect, Professor, Jaune's not a teacher. He's a nurse's assistant. He doesn't grade us, teach us, or have any say in our training. And, uh, last I checked, there's no rule against students dating support staff." Not that it would stop any of the other Huntresses. They'd still have thrown themselves at any guy who looked halfway decent.

Professor Peach's expression darkened, "It's not about rules, Miss Rose. It's about professionalism. Your behavior is causing unnecessary distractions and - "

"Wait a second," Ruby cut in, her voice calm but firm, "Are you seriously telling me that my relationship with Jaune is the problem? Not the fact that half the Huntresses on campus've been throwing themselves at him every chance they get ever since he showed up and none of the professors said anything about it? Where was this lecture when I had to beat Cinder off with a stick?"

Professor Peach hesitated, her posture stiffening, "That's not-"

"Because if you're going to talk about 'inappropriate behavior,' maybe you should start with the Huntresses who keep faking injuries to get his attention or the ones who sneak into the clinic to try and corner him when Doctor Wood isn't around." Ruby's smile was sweet, but her eyes were sharp, "Unless, of course, you're more interested in singling me out because I'm the only one who actually managed to get him to like me."

The room was silent for a moment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You're treading on thin ice, Miss Rose," Professor Peach said finally, her tone icy, but Ruby could tell it was more than professionalism beneath her words.

"And you're treading on alienating the only guy under fifty who works at this school," Ruby shot back, her voice cool and even, "Do you really think Jaune's going to stick around if he finds out people are trying to guilt-trip me into breaking up with him? I'm guessing not." Even if they couldn't date him, she knew just being able to see Jaune was something for the other Huntresses.

Which was why she was gonna help him look for another job as soon as she graduated. Or now, if he wanted to avoid any more pathetic come-ons now that they were dating. She'd support him either way. That was what a good girlfriend did.

Professor Peach's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. After a moment, she gave a curt nod, "You may go."

Ruby turned and left the room without another word, her heart pounding in her chest. As soon as she was out of sight, she let out a shaky breath and smiled. She wasn't one for confrontation, but she'd be damned if she let anyone - not her team, not the Huntresses, and certainly not some uptight professor - mess with her relationship.

Jaune was hers, fair and square. And no one was going to take him away from her.

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Weeks passed, and Ruby life had become an annoying combo of bliss and exasperation. On one hand, her relationship with Jaune was everything she'd hoped for. Sweet dates in Vale, quiet moments in the clinic, and an ever-growing bond that made her feel like the luckiest girl - no, woman - in the world.

On the other hand, the rest of Beacon's Huntresses were making her life a living hell.

It started subtly. Little things here and there. A snide comment in the hallway, a pointed glance during class. Ruby could handle those. But as time went on, the jealousy of the other Huntresses seemed to grow into a full-blown vendetta, and they weren't shy about showing it.

Combat class was the worst.

Ruby found herself paired against Huntresses who suddenly seemed hellbent on turning every sparring session into a grudge match.

"Come on, Rose, is that all you've got?" sneered a tall, muscular girl named Vera, her axe slamming into Crescent Rose with enough force to make Ruby's arms tremble.

"Just warming up!" Ruby shot back, gritting her teeth as she pushed against the axe.

"Better step it up, then," Vera said, her smirk almost feral, "Wouldn't want your boyfriend to see you losing."

Ruby's eyes narrowed. She dodged the next swing, twirling Crescent Rose into its rifle form and firing a round that sent Vera stumbling back, "Maybe you should focus on the fight instead of Jaune," she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

But even when Ruby won, it didn't feel like a victory. Every match left her exhausted, bruised (okay not bruised cause of her Aura, but still sore!), and increasingly frustrated. The other Huntresses weren't just fighting her - they were trying to humiliate her.

Outside of combat class, the sabotage continued.

She'd show up for a date with Jaune somewhere in Vale only to find a group of Huntresses conveniently loitering nearby, giggling loudly and whispering just loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, Jaune, you're so strong!" one of them cooed mockingly, "Do you work out, or is it all natural?"

Ruby clenched her fists, her jaw tightening as she forced herself to ignore them. Jaune, bless his heart, didn't pay them any mind and focused only on her.

Then there were the more blatant distractions. Like the time she and Jaune had finally managed to snag a quiet corner table at a cafe in Vale. They'd barely gotten their drinks when a group of Huntresses 'accidentally' bumped into their table, spilling their coffee everywhere.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry!" one of them gasped, her doe eyes wide with fake innocence.

Ruby's eye twitched as she grabbed napkins to clean up the mess, "It's fine," she said through gritted teeth.

"Here, let me help!" the girl insisted, grabbing Jaune's hand in a gesture that was entirely unnecessary, "You're so sweet to put up with this, Jaune."

Ruby took a slow, deep breath, reminding herself that murder was still illegal. Even if the victims victims were freaking asking for it.

She tried to brush it off, to focus on the good things in her life instead of the pettiness swirling around her. But it was wearing on her, bit by bit. Even the simplest moments with Jaune felt tainted by the shadow of the Huntresses' jealousy.

One evening, as they walked back to the dorms, Ruby caught sight of a group of Huntresses lurking near the corner, their eyes glued to Jaune and blatantly leering. She tightened her grip on his hand, almost growling as she realized just how far they were willing to go to make her miserable.

"Hey," Jaune said softly, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You okay?"

Ruby forced a smile, nodding quickly, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

He didn't press, but the concern in his eyes made her feel bad. The only bright side was that her team didn't join in on the shenanigans. Oh, they still whined and begged to be involved with her and Jaune, but they didn't try to outright sabotage them. Either because they still had some sense of care for her or because they knew that if they did that they'd have to spend the next four years with a team leader who hated their guts.

She liked to think it was the first one.

That night she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her team was gone, of course. The were down in Vale trying to get guys to fuck them again. They were even more desperate now than they were before. Finding out she had a boyfriend lit a fire under their butts, much to the ire of Vale's many bachelors.

Ruby sighed. She loved Jaune. She loved being with him. But the constant harassment from the other Huntresses was starting to take its toll.

For a brief moment, she wondered if it was worth it. If she could keep fighting this battle every single day. But as her mind swirled with doubts, one thought rose above the rest, 'They're not going to win. I've come this far, and I'm not giving up now.' They could be as pathetic and jealous as she wanted. They were just jealous that she managed to get a guy to not only sleep with her, but that she did it it by being a normal freaking person instead of a horny gooner. She'd get through this too.

Hours later, she decided to call her mom up to vent. Ruby paced back and forth in the the room, her scroll pressed to her ear as she vented her frustrations. The call had started with a simple "Hi, Mom," but within seconds, Ruby had spilled her entire predicament, complete with reenactments of the Huntresses' antics.

"...And then they bumped into our table again! Like, what freaking Huntresss just accidentally dumps coffee on someone? Twice?! It's so obvious what they're doing, Mom!" Ruby groaned, flopping onto the bed in a dramatic heap.

On the other end of the call, Mom chuckled softly, "Oh, sweetie, I know this is frustrating, but it's nothing new. Huntresses are...well, let's just say they're a jealous bunch."

"Jealous thots," Ruby corrected, her voice muffled by the cushion she was face-down on.

Mom laughed, "Exactly. It's just part of the job. When you're one of the few women with a decent boyfriend, it puts a target on your back."

Ruby groaned again, rolling onto her side, "But it's so exhausting! I just want to enjoy being with Jaune without feeling like I'm in a war zone every time we step outside."

"Well, there's one solution that worked for me," Mom said, her tone light and teasing.

Ruby perked up slightly, "Really? What is it?"

"Get another Huntress into the relationship. Turn it into a throuple."

There was a long pause as Ruby stared at the scroll She must have misheard, right? "I'm sorry, what now?"

"You heard me," Mom said, completely unbothered, "Your mom knows what she's talking about, trust me. Back when your dad and I first got together, the same thing happened. Huntresses everywhere were sniffing around, trying to muscle in, thinking they could steal Tai from me. So, I had a chat with Raven, and we came to an agreement."

"...An agreement?" Ruby asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. Mom, Dad, and 'Auntie' Raven were together as long as she knew them, but she always figured that they all fell in love at the same time or something. But an agreement? Like, a deal?

"Yep. I said she could join me and Tai if she helped fight off the horny bitches." Mom said cheerfully, "She joined in, and suddenly we had a united front. It's a lot harder for Huntresses to mess with a couple when there's another Huntress guarding the gates, you know?"

Ruby sat up, her jaw slack, "You're telling me our entire family dynamic is based on a tactical decision to fend off thirsty Huntresses?"

Mom laughed again, a mischievous edge to her voice, "You make it sound so cynical, sweetie! It worked, didn't it? Tai's happy, I'm happy, and Rae- well, she's happy-ish."

"That explains so much," Ruby muttered, running a hand down her face, "But Mom, that's...that's not me! I'm not just gonna grab some random girl and say, 'Hey, wanna join my relationship to fight off jealous thots?'"

"Well, no," Mom said, her tone turning practical, "You'd have to pick someone you trust. Someone who's compatible with you and Jaune. Someone who won't try to take over the relationship from under you or cause more problems. Someone who's equal. It's a big decision."

Ruby opened her mouth to protest but stopped short. As ridiculous as it sounded, there was a certain logic to it. Another Huntress in the mix could be an ally, someone to share the burden of dealing with the constant harassment. And...well, Jaune was pretty great. Maybe sharing him wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if the woman she was sharing him with wasn't an absolute cringelord that demanded sex like a hungry seagull.

"You're actually considering it, aren't you?" Mom teased.

"No! I mean...maybe? Ugh, I don't know!" Ruby flopped back onto the bed, covering her face with a pillow, "This is so weird. Why is my life like this?"

"Because you're dating a good guy in a school full of jealous women," Mom said matter-of-factly, "It's not easy, I know that from experience, but if anyone can make it work, it's my little Rosebud."

Ruby groaned but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. Leave it to her mom to turn her love life into some kind of military strategy, "Thanks, Mom," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

"Anytime, sweetie. Just let me know if you need help picking someone. But as a mom, I should suggest your sister-"

"Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Yang's a no-go!" Ruby shouted.

"Are you sure? You know, you don't have to share the bed at the same time. You could have alternate days-"

"Goodbye, Mom!" Ruby ended the call before Mom could say anything else, dropping the scroll without a care. She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. The idea was insane. Absolutely, positively insane. But what choice did she have? In the kind of world they lived in, throuples weren't considered anything weird. Polygamy was legal everywhere, mostly to keep the Huntresses from complaining too much.

Ruby sat at her bed the next morning, her scroll resting on her lap as she stared blankly at the wall. Her mom's advice (if it could even be called that) had been rolling around in her head all night so she barely even slept. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a certain logic to it. A Huntress throuple wasn't exactly an unconventional idea in their world - it was practically a societal norm at this point. Well, as much of a norm as a minority could be. You could count the amount of Huntresses who got any dick in a generation with one hand.

Still, it wasn't like she could just grab someone and toss them into her relationship with Jaune. No, this required thought. Careful, strategic thought.

"Alright, Ruby," she muttered to herself, sitting up straight and clapping her hands, "Time to make a list."

She grabbed her notebook and began scribbling down potential candidates. The first names that came to mind, of course, were her teammates. They were close, they were family in the case of Yang, and they all had the same problem with thirst as the rest of the Huntresses at Beacon.

"Nope," Ruby muttered, shaking her head and crossing out Team RWBY in bold letters, "Not happening. If I bring one of them in, the other two will lose their minds and start whining about wanting to join. Not dealing with that. No way."

Next, she considered a few Huntresses she'd seen around Beacon. Ones who weren't outright disasters but still didn't pass the 'not-a-total-cringelord' test.

Vera from Combat Class? Nope. Too aggressive. And she was a bitch. Melanie or Miltia from Junior's club? Nope. Too sleazy. Besides, they had no problems getting guys. Velvet, that nice girl in the photography club? Definitely not. She might've been sweet, but the way she pounced on a poor Valean delivery guy last week was burned into Ruby's memory. Nora? She already had Ren and she wasn't interested in anyone else. Which, hey, good for her

Every name she considered was either too thirsty or didn't need to play the third in her relationship. Even the ones who seemed normal at first glance couldn't hide the desperate gleam in their eyes whenever a guy walked by. She wouldn't do that to Jaune.

Ruby let out an exasperated sigh, tapping the end of her pen against her notebook, "There's gotta be someone..."

And then it hit her. Someone sweet. Someone kind. Someone who'd already proven they liked Jaune but wasn't constantly throwing themselves at him. Someone who wasn't a cringy, feral lunatic.

Pyrrha.

Ruby's eyes widened as the thought crystallized in her mind. Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl. She was practically perfect. She was polite, considerate, and - even though she had her awkward moments - she wasn't a total disaster like the rest of the Huntresses. Sure, she had a crush on Jaune, but it wasn't the creepy, stalker kind of crush. If anything, she was the kind of person Ruby could actually see herself trusting with something like this.

Plus, Ruby couldn't help but feel a little bad for Pyrrha. The poor girl was so socially inept that every attempt she made at flirting with Jaune fell flat. It wasn't like she was ever going to get anywhere on her own. Maybe this could work out for everyone.

Ruby leaned back against her pillows, a small smile creeping across her face, "Pyrrha, huh?" she murmured, "This might actually be a good idea..."

With that thought in mind, she grabbed her scroll and started drafting a message, 'Hey, Pyrrha! You free to chat later? Got something I wanna run by you.' As she hit send, Ruby couldn't help but chuckle nervously to herself. This was either going to be the best decision she'd ever made...or an absolute trainwreck.

Of course, the idea of explaining this to Jaune was another matter entirely.

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Ruby paced nervously outside the door to the infirmary, her scroll clutched tightly in her hand. She'd sent Jaune a quick message asking to meet, and now that she was here, she was starting to feel the weight of what she was about to propose.

"Okay, Ruby," she muttered to herself, taking a deep breath, "It's not weird. Totally normal. Lots of people do this. This isn't you being insecure or anything. It's just...strategy. Smart, tactical relationship strategy." She groaned and buried her face in her hands. Who was she kidding? This was the weirdest thing she'd ever done, and that was saying something.

"Ruby?" Jaune's voice snapped her out of her spiral, and she turned to see him open the door, his usual warm, slightly goofy smile on his face meeting, "Hey, what's up? Everything okay?"

Ruby's heart did a little flip at the sight of him. Jaune always had that effect on her, no matter how many times they'd been together, "Yeah! Totally fine!" she said, her voice an octave higher than usual.

Back on Patch, Zwei sat up after he heard what sounded like a Ruby-style dog whistle.

She cleared her throat and forced a more natural tone as she stepped inside the clinic, "I just...wanted to talk to you about something."

Jaune raised an eyebrow, "Is everything okay with us? Did I do something wrong?" He looked worried.

"No, no, no!" Ruby waved her hands frantically, stepping closer to him, "You're perfect! It's just..." She hesitated, biting her lip, "Things have been...kind of rough lately. With the other Huntresses."

Jaune frowned, "They're still giving you trouble, huh? I wish I could do something about it."

Ruby nodded, crossing her arms, "Yeah. They're out to get me just because I'm with you. And I get it, kind of. You're amazing, and they're jealous, but it's exhausting. I just want to be happy with you without feeling like I'm constantly under attack."

Jaune's expression softened, and he reached out to gently take her hand, "Ruby, I'm so sorry you're dealing with that. If there's anything I can do to help—"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Ruby cut in, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at their joined hands, "I...uh...had an idea. About how to deal with it."

"Okay..." Jaune said slowly, clearly curious, "What's the idea?"

Ruby took a deep breath, steeling herself, "What if...what if we made it a throuple?"

Jaune blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion, "A throuple?"

"Yeah." Ruby's voice sped up, her words tumbling out in a rush, "You know, adding another person to the relationship. Like, another Huntress. Someone we both like and trust. Someone who could help take some of the heat off and, I don't know, make things a little easier?"

She braced herself for Jaune's reaction, but to her surprise, he didn't look shocked or upset. Instead, he nodded thoughtfully, "Huh. That's not a bad idea."

Ruby blinked, "Wait, really?"

"Yeah," Jaune said, shrugging, "Throuples aren't that uncommon where I'm from. One of my older sisters is in one, actually. It worked out pretty well for them."

Ruby stared at him, her heart doing another little flip, "Wow. Okay. That's...good to know. But are you okay with it? I mean, I don't want to pressure you into something you're not comfortable with. If you don't like the idea, just say the word. Topic dropped!"

Jaune smiled, squeezing her hand, "Ruby, I'm okay with it if you are. I care about you, and if this is something that'll make things better for you, then I'm all for it. But only if you're comfortable with it, too."

Ruby felt her knees go weak at the sheer sincerity in his voice. How was he always this sweet? This thoughtful? Sisters, she was the luckiest fucking girl in the world! "I'm...yeah, I think I'm okay with it," she said softly, her cheeks burning. She felt lightheaded, "I just wanted to make sure you were, too."

Jaune chuckled, reaching up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, "Ruby, you don't have to worry about that. As long as we're on the same page, I'm happy."

Her heart melted on the spot, and she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, "You're the best, you know that?"

Jaune laughed, hugging her back, "I try."

Ruby pulled back just enough to look up at him, a small, shy smile on her lips, "Okay, so...there's someone I was thinking of. For the throuple."

Jaune tilted his head, "Oh? Who?"

"Pyrrha," Ruby said, watching his reaction carefully, "I mean, she already likes you, and she's sweet, and she's not...you know, like the others."

Jaune's cheeks turned a faint shade of pink, but he nodded slowly, "Pyrrha, huh? Wait, what do you mean she already likes me? She's just...well, nice!"

"You thinking that is one reason I love you." Ruby laughed, "But no, she's super in love with you."

"Oh. Wow, that's...that's a bombshell." He laughed back awkwardly, "But I guess that makes things easier, right?"

Ruby's smile widened, relief flooding through her, "Okay. Then I'll talk to her and see what she thinks."

Jaune leaned down to kiss her forehead, his voice warm and gentle, "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out together, okay?"

Ruby nodded, her heart swelling with affection, "Yeah. Together."

And then, without any warning, she used her Semblance to lock the door before she tackled him to the closest bed. Jaune yelped, though it was quickly replaced by a laugh as their lips met in a deep kiss. She needed some stress relief right now.

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Ruby fiddled with the hem of her blouse, glancing nervously at Jaune as they walked toward the training room where Pyrrha had agreed to meet them, "Okay, so, just to recap," she whispered, "We're going to lay out the offer, explain everything clearly, and give her time to think about it. No pressure." This was like...a business meeting. Yeah.

Jaune nodded, his hands in his pockets, "Right. We don't want to rush her into anything. It's a big decision."

"Exactly. We're professionals," Ruby said, squaring her shoulders. Professionals at what, exactly, she didn't bother to think about, "This is going to be a calm, mature conversation."

They turned the corner and stepped into the training room, where Pyrrha was already waiting. She looked up from where she'd been adjusting the straps on her training gear, her face lighting up at the sight of Jaune, "Oh, hi, Jaune! Ruby!" she said, her tone warm and cheerful despite her perpetual state of rizzless frustration.

Ruby took a deep breath. Calm. Mature. Professional.

"Hey, Pyrrha!" she said, forcing a smile as she and Jaune approached, "Thanks for meeting us. We, uh, have something we wanted to talk to you about."

"Of course!" Pyrrha said, setting her things aside and giving them her full attention, "What's on your mind?"

Ruby exchanged a quick glance with Jaune, who gave her a reassuring nod, "Okay, so, um...you know how Jaune and I are dating, right?"

Pyrrha nodded, her smile faltering just a bit, "Yes, of course."

"Well," Ruby continued, her voice speeding up slightly, "things have been kind of...rough lately. The other Huntresses have been really aggressive, and we've been thinking about ways to make things easier."

Pyrrha tilted her head, her brow furrowing in confusion, "Easier? How so?"

Ruby cleared her throat, trying to ignore the way Pyrrha's gaze kept flicking to Jaune like he was the sun and she was a sunflower. At any other day, she would've been jealous, but now she was going to use it to her advantage, "We were thinking...maybe...we could make this a throuple."

Pyrrha blinked, "A...throuple?"

"Yeah," Jaune chimed in, his voice calm and reassuring, "We think you'd be a good fit. With us, I mean. You're kind, you're not, uh, as intense as some of the other Huntresses, and we already trust you. We think it could work."

Ruby was about to launch into the rest of her carefully prepared explanation - it included a chart! - when Pyrrha's response derailed her completely, "Yes," Pyrrha blurted out, her voice trembling with excitement.

Ruby blinked, "Wait, what?"

"Yes!" Pyrrha repeated, stepping closer, her green eyes sparkling, "Absolutely, yes. I'd love to I agree. I do."

"Uh..." Ruby exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Jaune, who looked just as taken aback, "I mean, that's great, but you don't have to decide right away. We wanted to give you time to think about it-"

"I don't need time to think about it," Pyrrha said quickly, her voice firm, "This is everything I've ever wanted. Yes."

Ruby stared at her, completely thrown off her game, "Okay, um, I guess that's...settled?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said again, her voice a little breathless now as she glanced at Jaune, "Thank you. Both of you. This means so much to me."

Ruby scratched the back of her head, feeling a twinge of guilt, "Uh, Pyrrha, I also wanted to say I'm sorry. You know, for being kind of...catty-" Bitchy, a voice at the back of her head whispered - "with you when you came to visit Jaune before. I was new to the relationship, and my team was driving me crazy, so I took it out on you and-"

"It's fine!" Pyrrha interrupted, waving a hand dismissively, "Water under the bridge! Ancient history! No hard feelings!" Her eyes darted back to Jaune, "Yes."

"You're...saying that a lot," Ruby said.

"Because that's the answer. Yes. A thousand times yes to all things." She looked them both in the eyes, "All things."

Ruby opened her mouth to continue, but Jaune gently nudged her arm, his expression equal parts amused and bewildered, "I think we're good," he murmured.

"Yeah," Ruby muttered, watching as Pyrrha clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement, "I think we're good."

"Wonderful!" Pyrrha said, beaming at them both, "So, what's next? Do we sign something? Is there a ceremony? Oh, should I move my things closer to yours?"

Ruby took a step back, holding up her hands, "Whoa, whoa, let's not get ahead of ourselves. One step at a time, okay? And, you know, we're still students, so no moving in with each other. Let's wait until we all graduate, okay?"

"Of course, of course," Pyrrha said, nodding quickly, "I'm just...really excited. Thank you again. This is going to be amazing."

Ruby and Jaune exchanged another look, and Ruby couldn't help the small, bemused smile that tugged at her lips. This might not have gone exactly as she'd planned, but...well, at least Pyrrha was onboard.

"Yes," Pyrrha whispered under her breath, grinning from ear to ear.

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Pyrrha gets a (partial) win and Ruby/Jaune get a third for their relationship. Like i said, the next chapter will be showing Pyrrha as part of the throuple and then a threesome with the trio consummating their new bond.

Question:

1. Fucked up thing to ask, but do you guys seriously want team WBY to agree to sit in the cuck chair? Seems like a bunch of people really want it. If so, I could incorporate that into the next chapter.

Team Rizzless (Omake 3) - Guys' Side

Heyo. This chapter ended up being pretty meaty, which was somewhat surprising. I took out Ironwood but Adam ended up getting the majority of the focus. Poor guy. The one world where he's sane and he can't even enjoy it. 

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Adam adjusted his coat as he stood atop the small stage in the heart of Vale, the MenToo banner behind him rippling slightly in the breeze. The bright red letters above him, 'Supporting Men in a Huntress-Obsessed World,' drew more than a few curious glances from passersby. The crowd - all men of varying ages both Human and Faunus - gathered in front of him, holding signs like 'Stop Following Me Home!' and 'No Means No, Huntress Edition!', watched with rapt attention as Adam raised his megaphone.

Behind him, the banner stood strong with their slogan. MenToo: Because Dignity Shouldn't Be a Luxury.

"Brothers of Remnant!" Adam began, his voice booming through the square, "We've all experienced it. You're just minding your business, walking home after a long day, when suddenly a Huntress appears out of nowhere, blocking your path like the world's most pathetic scarecrow. 'Hey,' she says, tossing her hair like she's in some cheesy romance novel, 'You're cute. Want to come back to my place and let me bounce on your dick?!'"

The crowd groaned in unison, several men shaking their heads. Adam raised his voice, leaning forward slightly, "And when you say no? Do they gracefully accept it? Do they take it on the chin and move on? No! They pout, they whine, they literally beg. One guy told me he had a Huntress pull out a scroll and start crying on video, like she was auditioning for a sad music video! It's pathetic!"

Laughter rippled through the crowd, mingling with more groans of agreement. One man in the back shouted, "One of them tried to guilt-trip me by saying she'd die alone!" Another added, "Mine said it was 'for the future of humanity!'"

"How many of you have had to change gyms because a Huntress spotted you in the weight room and spent the entire session staring at you from the corner, muttering about how strong your shoulders look?"

More groans. More hands. Someone yelled, "Three times, Adam!"

"And how many of you have invested in water bottles, not for hydration, but to defend yourselves from the rabid thirst of women who fight Grimm without fear but can't take no for an answer?!" Too many, the crowd shouted. Adam nodded solemnly, "Exactly, brothers. They've been doing this for years. And it's not just the younger ones. I had one of the Huntress professors corner me, telling me how my 'strong jawline' reminded her of her dead fiancé and how it was my 'duty' to help her move on. What do you even say to that?! I doubt she even had a fiancé!"

The crowd erupted into more raucous protests, several men throwing their hands in the air as if to say, What can you do?

"But this isn't just about the awkward moments," Adam continued, pacing the stage dramatically, "It's how they've forgotten their roles as heroes and defenders. Now they've given up even the pretense of being anything more than thirsty hyenas!"

The crowd of men below him murmured in agreement, some clutching homemade signs like 'Thirst Is Not Flirting!' and 'Stop Asking for My Scroll Number!' One man in the back waved a super-soaker above his head like a trophy, drawing approving nods from the rest of the audience. They needed this. Needed a group that would stand up for their right to not be harassed by thirsty women who decided dying a virgin was just cause to make it everyone else's problem.

A voice from the side interrupted his speech, "We are not hyenas!"

Adam turned sharply, narrowing his eyes as Sienna Khan strode onto the stage flanked by a couple of White Fang members holding placards that read 'Love for All Huntresses!' and 'Boyfriends Are Basic Rights!'. Pathetic, "Ah, and here we have the leader of the Huntress Begging Brigade," Adam said, tilting his head with mock politeness, "Sienna Khan, the woman who thought extorting the Council for boyfriends was a good look. How brave of you to show your face here!"

Sienna scowled, planting her hands on her hips, "We're not begging," she snapped, "We're demanding equality! Men refuse to see us as anything but threats or, worse, pity cases. And it's your fault, Adam Taurus! You and all other men like you! You're out here spreading this narrative that we're all...pathetic cock whores!"

Adam raised an eyebrow, deadpan, "You literally staged a sit-in at City Hall chanting, 'We deserve dick!'"

"That was one protest!" Sienna snapped, her cheeks flushing as a few chuckles rippled through the crowd, "And it got people talking, didn't it?"

"Oh, it got people talking, all right," Adam said, waving his bullhorn, "I'm pretty sure every guy in Vale now carries a water bottle just in case one of you tries to 'talk' to him."

"That's not fair!" Sienna shot back, stamping her foot, "It's not our fault men can't handle confident women!"

Adam rolled his eyes, "Confident? Sienna, you've got Huntresses hiding in bushes outside of gyms, hoping to 'accidentally' bump into guys after their workouts. One of your members tried to climb into a man's apartment window to 'show him what he was missing.' That's not confidence. That's a restraining order waiting to happen!"

The crowd burst into laughter again, and Sienna's face turned redder, "That's...that's not representative of all Huntresses, and especially not the White Fang!" she said, floundering, "Some of us are trying genuine approaches! It's not our fault that you men refuse to see the value in us!""

"Genuine? Like crying on demand? Or offering men money to come on a date? Or my personal favorite: throwing a boomerang Semblance around a guy to trap him in a conversation?" Adam shook his head, smirking, "Face facts, Sienna. This isn't about men being intimidated by Huntresses. It's about Huntresses not knowing how to talk to men without coming across like...well, like you."

Sienna crossed her arms, glaring at him, "At least we're trying! You stand up here preaching to these guys like you're some kind of savior, but you're just bitter because you're single too!"

Adam raised a finger, "First of all, I'm single by choice." He gestured to the crowd, "Second, these men aren't bitter - they're exhausted. You're not helping your cause by doubling down on the 'desperate and cringy' routine."

A man near the front shouted, "Tell her about the karaoke thing!"

Adam snapped his fingers, sneering, "Yes, brother! Remember that stunt where one of your members hijacked a karaoke night to serenade a guy with a Huntress-themed parody of Endless Love? He fled halfway through, Sienna!"

"That was romantic!" Sienna shot back, her voice rising defensively.

"That was traumatizing," Adam corrected, twirling his megaphone for emphasis, "Men just want to live their lives without being ambushed by what I can only describe as thirst personified every day!"

Sienna opened her mouth to retort but closed it again, clearly struggling to come up with a comeback. Adam took the opportunity to step forward, his tone firm but still laced with dry amusement, "Look, Sienna. You and your White Fang want boyfriends? Fine. But maybe, just maybe, stop acting like it's the end of the world if a guy says no. Because right now?" He spread his arms, "You're not helping your cause. You're just proving us right."

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, and Adam gave them a firm nod, "It's not my fault! All we want is what we're due!" Sienna snarled.

Adam's eye twitched. What they were due, hm? Time to hit below the belt, "You're just bitter that you lost Ghira."

The reaction was immediate and visceral. Sienna's face morphed into an ugly scowl and she growled like the tiger she painted herself as, "I should've gotten that hunk of man meat! That skank Kali stole him from me!"

"That sounds like a 'you' problem, Ms. Khan, not the problem of every other man in Vale!" He spread his arms, "MenToo, MenToo, MenToo!" Sienna glared at him one last time before spinning on her heel and storming off, muttering under her breath about 'ungrateful men'.

As the White Fang retreated, Adam turned back to his audience with a raucous cheer, "Brothers," he said, raising his megaphone again. They all looked up at him in awe and adoration. A man who successfully made a Huntress back down through nothing but his words and determination, "We've still got a long road ahead. But remember this: you are not obligated to entertain desperate Huntresses. You deserve better! We deserve better!"

"MenToo! MenToo!" the crowd chanted, their spirits bolstered by Adam's words.

He smirked, leaning into the megaphone one last time, "And if all else fails...just remember to keep your water bottles handy. We're handing out free ones. Keep your chastity safe, my fellow men!"

Adam stepped off the stage, the cheers of the MenToo crowd still ringing in his ears. He tucked his megaphone under his arm and let out a heavy sigh, leaaving to go to a park to clear his head. The speeches were easy - venting frustrations, rallying his fellow men against the never-ending wave of thirsty Huntresses. But the quiet moments afterward? Those were when his mind wandered to her.

Blake Belladonna.

Adam clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he walked toward a nearby bench. Blake had been the reason he joined the MenToo movement in the first place, though he rarely talked about it. When he first met her, she'd been just another ambitious Huntress, eager to prove herself, with stars in her eyes and a determination to change the world. He'd seen her as the little sister he never had, someone he could mentor, guide, and protect in his own way. He never had a family, and he thought (foolishly) that Blake could be that for him.

He'd even offered to train her in close combat, sharing techniques he'd developed over years of trial and error. He couldn't use Aura like a Huntress - no man could - but he still learned to defend himself. One didn't need Aura to know how to use a blade or fire a gun, and he thought that maybe his techniques could help Blake in the future.

At first, it seemed like a normal mentor-student relationship. Blake was eager to learn, her dedication admirable and (he thought) sincere. But then the...incidents started.

It began innocently enough - or so he'd thought. Blake would show up to training sessions with a copy of one of her romance novels tucked under her arm. She'd quote passages aloud between sparring drills, rambling about forbidden love and the allure of older, wiser mentors. Adam had assumed it was just harmless chatter, the kind of thing young Huntresses did when they weren't busy throwing themselves at men in increasingly embarrassing ways.

He'd thought that even when she lent him the book and suggested he read it. It was a dark romance about a 40-year-old man and his 20-year-old (female, of course) protege. What little plot there was had been quickly replaced by mindless pornography. He'd ignored just how creased the raunchiest pages were.

But then came the looks. The lingering gazes when he demonstrated a technique. The way she'd tilt her head and bite her lip, her amber eyes practically glowing with poorly disguised thirst. And when he corrected her stance, placing his hands on her shoulders or adjusting her grip, she'd shiver like he'd just whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

It only got worse from there.

One day, during a cooldown session, Blake leaned against the wall, her expression unusually thoughtful, "Adam," she said, her voice soft, "Have you ever thought about what it would be like...to break the rules?"

He frowned, tossing her a water bottle, "Rules are there for a reason, Blake. They keep people alive. Without it, we all become animals."

She caught the bottle but didn't open it, her gaze locking onto his, "Not those rules," she said, her tone dripping with what she probably thought was sultry mystery, "I mean the rules of...propriety."

Adam froze, staring at her like she'd just grown a second head, "What?"

Blake stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, like a huntress stalking her prey, "The forbidden relationship between a young, ambitious student and her older, rugged mentor," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "Her innocence taken by a man years her senior as she gives into to carnal temptation and base needs. It's...thrilling, isn't it?"

Adam's face twisted in disbelief, "Blake. We're literally sparring partners. That's it."

"But it doesn't have to be," she murmured, her hand brushing his arm in what she probably thought was a seductive gesture. It mostly felt limp, like a fish flopping onto shore, "You could teach me so much more, Adam. About fighting. About...life."

He yanked his arm away like it had been burned, "No. Absolutely not. This isn't a novel, Blake. This is real life. And in real life, you don't...you don't seduce your mentors!"

She pouted, crossing her arms, "Why not? It's romantic! The forbidden tension, the secret glances, the- "

"It's cringy!" Adam interrupted, running a hand down his face, "Blake, I'm not some brooding antihero in one of your books. I'm a guy trying to help you not get killed by Grimm. That's it!" He threw his hands up, "And there is no forbidden tension or secret glances!

But did she stop? Of course not. If anything, his rejection only seemed to fuel her determination. She started showing up to training sessions in increasingly impractical outfits, claiming they were 'flexible combat gear' while very obviously trying to get him to notice her figure. She'd dramatically recite lines from her novels during their drills, always with the same theme of forbidden romance. Once, she even 'accidentally' left a particularly raunchy book on his desk, open to a dog-eared page describing a scene far too detailed for his comfort.

The final straw came during a sparring match when she deliberately let herself lose (because what Huntress lost to a man in a straight-up fight?), collapsing into his arms with a theatrical gasp, "You've bested me, Adam," she'd said, her voice breathy, "Now...do with me what you will. I'm yours."

Adam had dropped her like a sack of potatoes.

From that day forward, he'd stopped their training sessions and distanced himself as much as possible. Blake's behavior wasn't just uncomfortable - it was a reminder of how no Huntress was beyond the thirst and cringe. Even someone as seemingly composed as Blake Belladonna, a Faunus with so much potential, had been reduced to a cringy, lovesick mess by whatever collective madness infected Huntresses. Kali had been so heartbroken, saying she thought Blake would be different.

And so, he'd joined MenToo, vowing to protect himself and others from the chaos. But even now, sitting on that bench with the echoes of his speech fading, he couldn't shake the memory of Blake's desperate antics. He groaned, leaning back and staring up at the sky.

"Why me?" he muttered, "Why did it have to be me?" His mind still replayed Blake's antics. He didn't hate her, not really. He still considered her his little sister, even if the familial bond was evidently not reciprocated. But he couldn't deny the shudder of secondhand embarrassment that ran through him every time he remembered her whispered line: 'Do with me what you will.'

He shivered.

"MenToo forever," he muttered under his breath, pulling his coat tighter around himself. Adam leaned back on the park bench, letting out a long, exhausted sigh as he stared at the clear blue sky. The fresh air of Vale was supposed to be calming, a break from the chaos of speeches, protests, and dealing with the sheer absurdity of Huntresses. He thought he'd finally carved out a moment of peace, a chance to not think about Huntresses and their 'quirks'

But as fate would have it, his luck was about to run out.

"Adam?" A familiar voice, soft and lilting, called out with just the faintest touch of manufactured sorrow. His stomach sank. He didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Blake," he said flatly, tilting his head to see her standing a few feet away, a leather-bound book tucked under her arm and her amber eyes shimmering with what she probably thought was a tragic allure. She had a black scarf wrapped loosely around her neck and her hair artfully tousled, as if she'd spent hours trying to make it look like she hadn't tried at all.

Of course she'd be here - he knew she was in Vale. He just hoped the city was big enough for them to avoid running into each other. Clearly, the universe had other plans, "I didn't expect to see you here," she said, walking toward him with a deliberate slowness, her steps light, "I thought you hated parks."

Adam raised an eyebrow, "I don't hate parks. I hate being harassed in them. Big difference." Blake flinched ever so slightly, but instead of taking the hint, she pressed on, seating herself gracefully on the opposite end of the bench. She didn't look at him immediately, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if deep in thought. Adam could almost hear the dramatic inner monologue she was probably narrating to herself.

"I've been thinking a lot lately," she said after a long pause, her tone heavy with forced melancholy, "About the choices I've made...the paths I've walked..."

Adam blinked at her, incredulous, "You're nineteen. What paths? You're practically still a kid."

Blake ignored him, tilting her head just so, the light catching her eyes in a way she probably thought made her look ethereal, "I've carried so much pain, Adam. So much...regret."

"Blake," he said, already feeling a headache forming. He should've just walked away, but a part of him still felt compelled to at least give her a chance, "What are you doing here? In this park, I mean."

She sighed deeply, her amber eyes shimmering in the sunlight as she looked down her book with deliberate slowness, "Just...reflecting," she said, her voice soft and wistful, "This world...it's so cruel, isn't it?"

Adam blinked, "Cruel? Blake, we live in Vale. It's literally one of the safest places on Remnant. And before we lived here, we both lived in Menagerie, which is an island paradise. Cruelty is the last thing we've experienced unless you count dealing with thirsty Huntresses. In which case, yeah, life has been pretty cruel."

She ignored him, tilting her head to the side and letting her hair fall just so, her cat ears twitching for dramatic effect, "Sometimes, I feel like no one truly understands me," she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow, "Like I'm destined to wander alone, misunderstood by everyone around me..."

Adam groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. His patience was rapidly draining, "Blake, stop. Just stop."

She blinked up at him, feigning innocence, "Stop what?"

"This!" He gestured at her with both hands, "The whole 'tragic heroine' act! You're not some lonely, misunderstood wanderer! You're practically a princess! I literally talked to your parents last week - they invited me over for dinner!"

Blake's carefully constructed mask of sorrow faltered for a moment, replaced by a flicker of embarrassment, but she quickly recovered, lifting her chin defiantly, "You wouldn't understand, Adam," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper, "There's so much...darkness inside me. So much pain that it feels like it's about to burst."

Adam rubbed his jaw, "What darkness? What pain? Your biggest problem is deciding whether to drink tea or coffee with your all-fish breakfast."

Blake gasped, clutching her chest like he'd just stabbed her, "You make it sound so trivial," she said, her tone heavy with reproach, "But you don't know what it's like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders? To yearn for connection but fear that no one could ever truly understand the soul within?"

Adam stared at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration, "Blake, the only thing you're carrying is that stupid romance novel. And if you yearn for connection so much, maybe stop being...this." He gestured to her.

She tilted her head, her cat ears twitching again as she leaned forward slightly, her eyes locking onto his with what she probably thought was captivating intensity, "You don't have to hide your feelings, Adam," she said, her voice dipping into a husky whisper, "I can see through your defenses. You act so strong, but deep down, I know you're just as lost as I am..."

"Oh, for the love of-" Adam cut himself off, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath, "Blake. Let me be very clear. I am not lost. I know exactly where I am. You're the one who's lost in whatever weird fantasy land you've built in your head."

Blake leaned back slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile, "You always were good at hiding your emotions," she said softly, "It's one of the things I...admire about you."

Adam stared at her, his eye twitching, "Blake. You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" she asked, her tone pure innocence.

"This!" He waved his hands wildly, "The whole 'mysterious, tragic heroine' thing! It's not alluring; it's weird! And cringy! And it doesn't work! No one is buying it!" He gestured to the rest of the park where, as expected, the men passing by gave them a very wide berth.

She blinked, her cheeks flushing faintly, "I...don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Adam groaned, dropping his head into his hands, "You've been reading too many novels, Blake. This isn't some epic love story. This is real life. And in real life, men don't want to deal with a woman who follows them around with a book in one hand and a monologue about darkness in the other."

Blake fidgeted slightly, forcing herself to keep looking him in the eyes, "I'm just...expressing myself," she muttered.

"Maybe express yourself differently," Adam sighed, looking at her with pity, "Blake...you're a good kid, I know that, but this 'tragic, misunderstood heroine' thing? It's not working. All anyone else sees is a weirdo who wants to get them into bed by talking about how deep she is. And no one likes that."

"There has to be one guy out there who-"

"No. There's none. Literally none in all of Remnant." He shook his head, "Look, just...talk to people! When we started training together, you were so...sincere. What happened to that girl?"

"She's still here, Adam." She leaned forward, voice turning husky again, "And all you have to do to save her is-"

"Nope, I'm done." He stood and walked off before she could go on another tragic rant.

Adam had barely made it to the edge of the park when he heard a voice call out to him, sharp and commanding, yet with a breathless undertone that immediately set off alarm bells in his head.

"You there! Adam Taurus!"

He stopped mid-step, slowly turning to face none other than Weiss Schnee, the infamous heiress of the Schnee Dust Company. And more importantly, one of the thirstiest Huntresses this side of Remnant, 'Not today', he thought, already feeling his patience wearing thin. Between Blake's dramatics and the rally earlier, his tolerance for Huntress nonsense was at an all-time low.

She strutted toward him, her pristine white outfit gleaming in the sunlight, her posture as straight as a sword. She radiated confidence: confidence Adam immediately knew was about to be directed in the worst possible way, "You look...troubled," Weiss said, her voice softening as she stopped in front of him, tilting her head with what she probably thought was concern, "Angry, even. Like a man who's been wronged by the world." She took a step closer, her ice-blue eyes locking onto his, "I've seen your speeches, heard the anger in them. You need to vent that rage, don't you?"

Adam stared at her, utterly unamused, "I'm fine."

"Oh, no, you're not." Weiss placed a delicate hand over her chest, her expression shifting into what could only be described as theatrical empathy, "I can see it in your eyes. You're holding it all in, trying to be the strong, stoic type. But that kind of anger...it eats away at you, doesn't it?"

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose, already regretting every decision that had led him to this moment, "Look, Schnee, I've had a long day. Just tell me what you want so I can say no and move on."

Weiss gasped, placing a hand over her mouth like she'd just been stabbed, "What I want? Oh, it's not about me. It's about you, Adam!" She leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper, "Your anger, your passion...it's dangerous. Unchecked, it could hurt someone. Someone innocent."

"I'm not angry," Adam said flatly, though the twitch in his jaw said otherwise. He also didn't like the accusation that he'd hurt some innocent person because he couldn't keep his temper in check.

"Don't lie to me," Weiss said, shaking her head sadly. She looked at him with so much pity that he wanted to spray her in the face. But of course, today was the one day he forgot his water bottle, "I can feel the intensity radiating off of you. That kind of heat..." She bit her lip, "It needs an outlet. Someone who can...take it. Someone strong enough to endure your fury, your burning lust, and do so with dignity and grace."

Adam's eyes narrowed, "Please tell me you're not about to say what I think you're about to say."

"I respectfully volunteer," Weiss said as she stepped closer, her voice almost a whisper, "To protect the other women of Remnant from the inferno that rages within you, I offer myself. Ravage me, Adam. Right here, right now. Let it all out! Slake your lusts on me and spare the rest!"

Adam blinked. He blinked again. Then he blinked a third time, just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, "...What?"

Weiss clasped her hands together, her expression earnest and expectant, "I know it's unconventional, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You need this, Adam. And I..." She blushed faintly, casting her gaze downward for maximum dramatic effect, "I am willing to make the sacrifice. Hurry! Fuck me like an animal in heat!"

Adam slowly dragged a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. Everyone else in the park had quickly turned and ran the other way, leaving them (unfortunately) alone, "Why does this keep happening to me?"

Weiss took his lack of explosive refusal as encouragement, stepping even closer, "I know it's difficult for a man like you to trust, but you don't have to hold back with me, Adam. I can handle it. I was raised to endure hardship, and I will endure you!"

"Endure me?" Adam repeated, his voice climbing in disbelief, "I'm not some sort of raging beast you need to tame, Schnee!" He would've called her racist, but he was pretty damn sure that she'd say equally insulting things to a Human. At least Huntresses were equal-opportunity in their depravity.

"Oh, but you are," Weiss said, her voice practically dripping with melodrama, "You're a tempest of emotions, barely contained. And it's my duty - nay, my privilege - to help you unleash it!" She closed her eyes, raising her chin as though bracing herself for impact, "Go ahead. Ravage me. Release the storm within!" She paused, "Or if you're uncomfortable, we can take this elsewhere. A hotel room, but if you're impatient, there's some bushes over there..."

Adam stared at her, dumbfounded. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or just walk away, "Schnee...do you even hear yourself right now? You sound like you walked out of one of Blake's novels."

Her eyes snapped open, a flare of indignation crossing her face, "Excuse me? This is nothing like Blake's ridiculous fantasies! This is real. Raw. Unfiltered."

"It's cringe!" Adam shot back, throwing his arms in the air, "You don't even know me! The only thing raw here is the secondhand embarrassment I'm feeling!"

Weiss's cheeks flushed, but she quickly recomposed herself, lifting her chin, "You may not see it now, but one day, you'll realize I'm right. One day, you'll look back on this moment and think, 'Weiss Schnee understood me better than anyone else ever could. Why didn't I stick my dick in her and breed her like a common whore?'"

Adam groaned, rubbing his temples, "The only thing I'm going to look back on is the reminder to avoid public parks. And don't forget to bring my spray bottle."

Weiss pouted, crossing her arms, "You're impossible. Do you know how many men would kill to be in your position right now?"

Adam gave her a flat look "Yeah? Then go ask one of them."

Weiss flinched, knowing that those supposed men didn't exist outside of her head, but quickly masked it with a haughty scoff, "Fine. But don't come crying to me when you realize what you've missed out on." She turned on her heel and stormed off, muttering under her breath about 'limp dicks' and how 'he'd be begging to fuck her throat like a glory hole'.

Adam watched her leave, his expression a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. Finally, he sat back down on the bench, shaking his head, "I'm moving back to Menagerie," he muttered to himself, "No Huntresses. No drama. Just peace and quiet. I can still do the rallies from a screen, right?"

Of course, he knew he wouldn't. He couldn't abandon the rest of the men in Vale. They needed to see that someone was standing up for them.

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Ozma sat in the bunker's dim glow, absently stacking cans of beans as he tried to ignore the ever-present weight of his immortal predicament. Somewhere far above him, Remnant carried on, blissfully unaware of the man hunched over a rickety table, meticulously organizing the emergency rations that he'd stockpiled over centuries. Always non-perishables. Sometimes he indulged with the occasional treat, a reminder of his humanity, but survival trumped comfort.

The Sister Gods had given him a task - no, a curse - to confront Salem and end her reign of chaos (read: her plan to turn every man on Remnant into her harem). But Ozma had made a decision centuries ago. He wasn't going to confront her or anyone. Fuck the goddesses and fuck their divine mandate.

He glanced up at the map pinned to the wall, marked with colorful pins and notes scribbled in shorthand. It was a detailed chart of Salem's known movements, meticulously updated whenever he could gather new intel. One pin stood out - her primary fortress, a sprawling monstrosity of black stone she'd dubbed the 'Palace of Eternal Delight.'

Ozma groaned just thinking about it.

"Palace of Eternal Delight," he muttered, rolling his eyes, "More like the Palace of Eternal Thirst." He shook his head and returned to his task.

It wasn't fear that kept him hidden, he told himself - it was strategy. He'd seen firsthand what Salem was capable of. After all, she'd killed him once before.

...

Well, 'killed was putting it lightly.

His face burned with secondhand embarrassment as the memory resurfaced. He'd gone to the ends of the earth to save her from that accursed tower, thinking he was the hero saving the damsel in distress, and how had she repaid him? By pouncing on him like a starving lioness. It wasn't some dramatic, romantic first meeting. No, she had torn his clothes off, declared him the 'only man worthy of her,' and...well, he still didn't like to think about what happened next.

She hadn't killed him out of hatred. Oh, no. It had been sheer overenthusiasm. Death by snu-snu, as the modern kids might say. And when she begged the gods to bring him back, the Sisters had obliged either out of a sense of mercy or amusement.

She promptly killed him again in the same way within the week. When she tried to resurrect him a second time, both Light and Dark had flatly refused, upon which she threw a tantrum that shook the very heavens.

By the time the gods resurrected him for the second time centuries later, Salem was no longer the woman he'd once loved. She was a Grimm Queen now, her twisted lust and obsession amplified by her immortal rage and millenias of involuntary celibacy. Ozma hadn't even bothered to say hello. The moment he'd learned what she had become, he'd vanished into the wilderness, leaving the Sister Gods' divine mission to collect dust.

And so here he was, centuries later, in a hidden bunker surrounded by canned goods, waiting for eternity to pass him by.

A knock echoed through the steel door, and Ozma froze, his heart lurching into his throat. He dropped the can of beans he'd been holding and grabbed his trusty crowbar, his eyes darting to the surveillance monitorm, "Password!" he barked, his voice cracking slightly.

"It's me, old man," came Qrow's voice, muffled but unmistakable.

Ozma exhaled, relief flooding through him as he pressed the button to unlock the door. The reinforced steel slid open with a hiss, revealing Qrow Branwen, carrying a box of supplies and looking as grizzled as ever. Qrow was one of the few he could trust in this mad world. Not simply because he could keep a secret, but because his sister had done the impossible: she'd gotten laid. If she or Summer Rose found out about it, the risk to his wellbeing (and chastity) was minimal.

"Relax," Qrow said, stepping inside and setting the box on the table, "You look like you've seen Salem."

"I haven't, and I intend to keep it that way," Ozma said, placing the crowbar back on the shelf, "Do you have any idea how far she's expanded her influence? Half of Vale is terrified to step outside after sunset because they think she's sending Grimm to kidnap men!"

"She probably is," Qrow said with a shrug, pulling out his flask, "But hey, you've got this place locked down tight. She'll never find you here."

"Of course, she won't," Ozma muttered, rummaging through the box of supplies, "She thinks I'm dead, and I'm going to make sure it stays that way. Do you have any idea what she'd do to me if she found me alive?"

Qrow raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from his flask, "Yeah, didn't she, uh...y'know...the first time?"

"Don't remind me," Ozma snapped, shoving a stack of canned vegetables onto the shelf, "She called it a 'gift.' A gift! I barely survived the first hour!"

Qrow sighed, leaning against the wall and giving him a look of sympathy, "I still find it hard to believe she's still hung up on you till now. She ain't a Huntress."

"No, she's worse than that." Ozma shook his head, "She's not just hung up on me, she's obsessed. And I mean, 'builds a fortress with my face on every wall' obsessed. The woman declared war on the gods because they wouldn't bring me back after she fucked me to death twice!"

"Sounds like a lot of effort for someone who's apparently the worst lay ever," Qrow quipped.

Ozma shot him a withering glare, "It's not about me being a good lay, Qrow. It's about her delusional belief that we're some kind of star-crossed lovers destined to rule the world together. She doesn't want me for who I am - she wants me for what I represent. And what I represent is victory."

Qrow snorted, "Still, never think of going somewhere else?" He gestured to the bunker around them, "You're living in a glorified fallout shelter eating canned beans and drinking powdered milk."

"Exactly," Ozma said, crossing his arms, "It's quiet. Peaceful. No Grimm. No Salem. Just me and my beans."

Qrow shook his head, chuckling softly, "You know, most guys would kill for a woman that dedicated." It was a joke, of course. No sane person would ever want that. That was like...wanting to sleep with a Huntress. He still had no idea what possessed that Taiyang Xiao Long to lay with not one Huntress, but two!

Ozma jabbed a finger at him, "Don't you dare say that. The only reason you don't think Salem is cringy as hell is because you haven't had to deal with her thirst firsthand. If you had, you'd be right here in this bunker with me."

"Fair enough," Qrow admitted, draining the last of his flask, "But you know, you can't stay holed up here forever. Sooner or later, someone's going to find you. And when they do..." He put the flash back into his pack, "Better hope it's me and not her."

Ozma didn't respond, staring at the map on the wall. The thought of Salem finding him was a nightmare he tried not to dwell on. But deep down, he knew Qrow was right. No bunker could keep him hidden forever.

"Just drop off the supplies and go," Ozma said finally, his voice tired.

Qrow rolled his eyes and gave him a mock salute, "Whatever you say, old man."

As the steel door hissed shut behind him, Ozma sat back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He glanced at the map one more time, his eyes lingering on the bright red pin marking Salem's palace.

"Eternity," he muttered to himself, "And all I want is to spend it not dying by snu-snu: Grimm edition."

With a resigned sigh, he grabbed another can of beans and readied himself for work. Ozma frowned as he sat at the small desk in his bunker, staring down at the sleek scroll in front of him. The faint glow from the screen reflected on his weary face as he prepared to take another series of photos. His heart was heavy with shame, but he couldn't deny the financial necessity of his actions.

The life of an immortal recluse didn't come cheap. Non-perishable food, fuel for the generator, maintenance for the bunker - it all added up. And while he had once prided himself on his resourcefulness - he was a hero and a knight in his prime - there was only so much odd, anonymous freelancing one could do without attracting unwanted attention. In a world of Huntresses, a man who used Aura (read: magic) would only draw attention to him like a siren. And so, he'd taken a step he never thought he would.

He'd opened an AuraAdmire account.

He shuddered at the memory of signing up. The shame had burned hot enough to make him hesitate for days, but desperation outweighed pride. To his eternal dismay, the account was an immediate success. His 'mature but fit' body had struck a nerve, particularly with a demographic that both dismayed and horrified him: Huntresses.

"Of course, it's Huntresses," he muttered bitterly, setting up his tripod and making sure the camera angle was perfect. "Always them."

It didn't take long to realize why. Huntresses, with their insatiable thirst and seemingly infinite disposable income (being paid to kill Grimm was lucrative, even if they considered it secondary to their eternal quests to get laid), paid top lien for his carefully curated content. Pictures of his bare chest, videos of him doing push-ups or chopping wood - it all sold like hotcakes. They didn't need to see his face; the mystery only added to the allure.

Ozma was meticulous in his precautions. No face, no hair, no distinguishing features. He made sure every reflective surface was covered, every identifying detail erased. He never spoke in his videos, ensuring his voice couldn't betray him. His username, SilentMan67, was generic enough to avoid suspicion, and he uploaded through a VPN to keep his location hidden.

The irony wasn't lost on him. Here he was, hiding from a woman who had spent centuries trying to turn him into her personal boytoy, only to make a living catering to women who wanted the exact same thing. It was poetic in the worst possible way.

He positioned the camera and stepped back, glancing down at his shirt. "Too much," he muttered, pulling it off and tossing it onto the cot in the corner. His tan torso, lean and muscular from centuries of physical labor and immortality, gleamed faintly in the bunker's artificial light. He sighed, flexing slightly as he checked the angle again.

"This is for beans," he told himself. "This is for beans and powdered milk. And for keeping Salem out of my life."

Once he was satisfied with the setup, he hit record and began his routine. Slow, deliberate push-ups, each movement designed to highlight his strength without being overtly suggestive. He moved to chopping firewood next. Though there was no fireplace in the bunker, the visual appeal was undeniable. Huntresses apparently had a thing for 'practical masculinity', and who was he to deny his customers what they wanted?

When he finished the session and stopped recording, he wiped the sweat from his brow, muttering under his breath. "Another day, another lien. At least Salem's too much of a luddite to ever find me here." He smirked at the thought of her trying to navigate the Dustnet. She'd probably break a scroll out of sheer frustration before she figured out how to open a browser.

As he uploaded the latest batch of content, he glanced at the comments section. It was the part he dreaded most, but he couldn't help reading through them for quality assurance.

"Gods, I'd pay double if he'd let me squeeze those biceps."

"Bet he could toss me around like a ragdoll. I'd say please and thank you."

"SilentMan67, if you're reading this…call me. I'm in Vale, and I'm single ;)"

"Oh my Sisters, look at those shoulders!"

"Marry me, Mr. Mystery!"

"Step on me."

"Is this man even real?!"

Ozma groaned, running a hand down his face. "Why do I do this to myself?"

The answer, of course, was simple: canned beans and powdered milk weren't going to buy themselves. He clicked "upload" and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the influx of lien that would keep him off the grid for another month.

If the Sister Gods were watching, he hoped they were satisfied. At least he wasn't actively making things worse, which was more than he could say for some immortals, "This is my life now," he muttered, staring at the ceiling. "Catering to the thirst of women I'll never meet, just to avoid the one woman I never want to meet again."

The bunker was silent except for the hum of the generator, but in the back of his mind, he could almost hear Salem's voice, calling out to him in that sultry, predatory tone she used whenever she was about to ruin his day.

He shuddered. "Nope. Not happening. Never again."

With that, he turned off the camera and reached for a can of beans, reminding himself why he was doing this. Survival wasn't glamorous, but it was better than the alternative. He made some milk with the powder and heated up the beans. A few minutes later, and he was having another modest meal as he watched the clock tick by with agonizing slowness.

One day done. An eternity more to go.

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Ironwood and Roman managed to have an okay time in this verse, so of course, the same cannot be said Adam and Ozpin. Especially Ozpin. Poor guy's just a constant survivalist subsisting on beans to avoid drawing Salem's attention. Meanwhile, Adam is disappointed that his would-be sister wants to call him onii-chan in a very different way.

Note that originally I had Blake actually call Adam 'onii-chan' in the flashback. It was too cringe even more me. I went for the mentor angle instead.

I may make a final chapter with Ruby showing off her dating Jaune to her team, but I'm not sure just how it would go or how to extend it beyond maybe 2k words. We'll see.

Team Rizzless - Chapter 5

This'll be either the last or second-to-last main story chapter for this fic. I still have the Guy's Side omake planned, but after that, it's either the end of the fic or one more chapter with Ruby showing off her relationship to Jaune. I don't think that's really long enough to be its own chapter, though.

I'm definitely gonna enjoy writing Adam as the head of the MenToo movement, though.

For anyone interested in making a commission, email me at: storylover543@gmail.com

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Roman swaggered into their hideout - one of their more low-key ones - twirling his cane with a flourish and wearing a grin that could outshine a politician successfully getting away with another scandal.. Behind him, Neo followed, her petite frame moving with silent grace as she balanced a glittering artifact on one hand like it was a tray of hors d'oeuvres, "Another perfect heist, Neo!" Roman declared, flopping onto a worn leather couch with the kind of relaxed confidence that came from years of criminal success, "The museum's security was laughable. Almost too easy. Makes me wonder if they even care about their priceless artifacts anymore."

Neo flipped the artifact into the air - a golden statuette of some long-forgotten deity - and caught it effortlessly, her mismatched eyes twinkling with mischief. She pointed at herself with a playful grin, then made a dramatic bow as if to say, It's because I'm just that good.

"Yes, yes, you're the best, darling," Roman said, waving his hand dismissively, though the affection in his voice was unmistakable, "Without you, I'd be halfway to a jail cell by now. But let's not let it go to your head." Well, either a jail cell or being 'corrected' by some Huntress. There was a reason he tried to avoid excessive damage. He had a flair for showmanship, but his heists more entertained the masses than anything. No one cared about some museum funded by a rich guy being robbed, so the Huntresses couldn't drag him to their rooms under the pretext of discipline...yet.

Neo stuck out her tongue, plopping down next to him and stretching her legs out across his lap. Roman froze for a moment,, his grin twitching as he carefully avoided looking at her, "Uh, Neo, sweetheart," he began, choosing his words carefully, "You remember the whole 'personal space' talk we had, right?"

She tilted her head innocently, batting her eyelashes like a cartoon character. Then, with an exaggerated shrug, she tapped the side of her head as if to say, Nope. Must've slipped my mind. Roman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Neo's antics were nothing new - she'd been like this for as long as they'd been partners. He'd plucked her out of a life of misery and chaos, and she'd repaid him tenfold with loyalty, skill, and unwavering support. They were family.

At least, he hoped that was how Neo saw them. Because sometimes, the way she acted made him worry.

Like the time she'd insisted on sitting on his lap during a stakeout, claiming it was the 'best vantage point'. Or the way she'd casually leaned into him after a job, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm. Or the time she'd stolen a necklace and draped it around his neck, then made a mock marriage gesture with her hands.

She was a Huntress, after all. She might not have had the license or official title, but she was a Huntress in anything but the name. And Roman was painfully aware of how thirsty the women in their profession could be. He'd spent years dodging their attempts to catch him. They always claimed they just wanted to do their jobs and bring him down for justice, but he saw the hungry looks in their eyes. One perk of the bad boy charm was that women wanted a piece of him - he had an on-again off-again thing with Lisa for a reason. But of course, that included Huntresses. Very, very horny Huntresses who wanted to tame the untamable Roman Torchwick.

But surely Neo didn't think of him like that. Right?

"Neo," he said slowly, carefully shifting her legs off his lap, "You know I think the world of you. Really, I do. You're my partner, my right-hand girl. But let's keep things, uh...professional, yeah?"

Neo raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk as she leaned in closer, her face inches from his. She pointed to herself, then to him, then made a heart shape with her hands.

Roman's grin stiffened, "Okay, see, this is exactly what I'm talking about. Neo, sweetie, we're a team. Not a couple. Not a pair of lovebirds. Just good ol' fashioned partners in crime. Capisce?"

She rolled her eyes dramatically, waving a hand as if to say, 'Relax, I'm just messing with you.'

"Good," Roman said, leaning back with a relieved sigh, "Glad we're on the same page. Because I don't need any more complications in my life. Between you, the cops, and the occasional psychotic Huntress, I've got enough on my plate."

Neo pouted playfully but let the subject drop, instead pulling out a small notebook and pen to jot something down. She flipped it around to show him: What's next?

Roman's grin returned, his earlier unease melting away, "What's next? Glad you asked, darling." He tapped his cane on the floor, leaning forward with a glint in his eye, "I've got my sights set on the Atlas Art Gallery. There's a painting there - priceless, irreplaceable, and the perfect addition to our collection. Think you're up for another job?"

Neo didn't need to answer with words. The mischievous gleam in her eyes and the cocky tilt of her head said it all: When am I not?

"Atta girl," Roman said, clapping her on the shoulder, "You and me, Neo. Unstoppable."

As Neo leaned back, her smirk firmly in place, Roman allowed himself a moment of relaxation. Sure, Neo could be a handful - more than a handful, really - but she was his handful. And as long as she kept her horny minx tendencies™ in check, he was happy to have her by his side.

On most days, at least.

Because just like any other Huntress - or Huntress-adjacent woman - Neo was thirsty. Roman was all too aware of it. She was just as desperate to find a guy, have a whirlwind romance, and finally get laid as the rest of them. The romance was optional, of course. But unlike other women in their profession, Neo had one particular quirk that worked decidedly against her: she didn't talk.

Not couldn't, mind you. She could talk perfectly well if she wanted to. She just didn't.

Roman had asked about it once, early on in their partnership, when she hadn't spoken a single word during their first heist. At the time, he thought she might've been mute, but she'd quickly shot him an annoyed look, pulled out a pen, and written, 'Talking is boring.'

That had been the end of it. Neo didn't talk because she didn't want to, and apparently, she thought her silence made her mysterious and alluring. Roman could almost respect the hustle - she certainly carried herself with an air of enigmatic confidence, flashing her cocky little smirks and sashaying through every situation like she owned the place. In any other world, she would've had legions of simps following after her, all of them ignoring the blatant psychopathy and murder cause she was so darn charismatic. Kind of like him...minus the psychopathy and (occasional) murder.

This wasn't that world. As far as men were concerned, being a quiet creep was no better than being a loud one like the other Huntresses.

Roman had seen it firsthand. Neo's attempts to entice men - men who should've been falling over themselves for her petite frame, unique look, and wickedly sharp smile - usually ended with them backing away awkwardly. Sometimes, they'd make a weak excuse to leave. Other times, they'd fake an urgent call or suddenly remember a prior engagement. Or they just flat out ran away screaming 'begone thot!' like a religious mantra.

He could practically hear their thoughts as they fled: Why is this tiny woman staring at me like that? Why isn't she saying anything? Oh, gods, is she planning to kill me?!

It wasn't that Neo wasn't trying. Roman had watched her adjust her outfit to show just a little more skin, strike sultry poses, and flash her sweetest, most inviting smile - all without uttering a single word. She thought her body language spoke volumes.

And, to be fair, it did. It just wasn't saying what she thought it was.

Instead of Come hither, it read more like I know exactly how to dispose of your body without leaving a trace.

Roman sighed, leaning back on the couch as Neo fiddled with the golden statuette they'd stolen, balancing it on one finger like a circus performer. He cared about her - really, he did - but sometimes he wondered if she had any self-awareness.

"Neo," he said, breaking the silence, "have you considered that maybe your whole 'silent and mysterious' shtick isn't working?"

She looked at him sharply, narrowing her eyes as if to say, 'What are you talking about?'

Roman gestured vaguely with his cane, "The whole no-talking thing. I get it - you're going for an aura of mystery. But, and I mean this with absolute love...most guys just think you're a serial killer."

Neo's jaw dropped in exaggerated offense, and she dramatically clutched her chest like he'd shot her. She grabbed her notebook, scribbled something furiously, and flipped it around, 'They're intimidated by my perfection!' She even underlined 'perfection' twice.

Roman snorted, shaking his head, "Sure, kid. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Neo glared at him, her lips curling into a pout. She tapped the notebook again, then gestured at herself with a smug expression as if to say, 'Look at me. How could anyone resist this?'

"Sweetheart," Roman said with a sigh, "You're trying to sell mysterious allure, but you're giving off 'quiet stalker who stares at people and wants to take their kidneys.' It's not the vibe you think it is." He wasn't a fan of organ harvesting himself. You had to have some standards in this line of work, "All I'm saying is, the 'silent and sexy' routine isn't as hot as you think it is."

Neo threw the notebook at his head.

He caught it with ease, chuckling softly, "Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm just saying, maybe consider trying a different approach. Say a word or two. Laugh at their jokes. Pretend you're not imagining how they'd look tied up with you teasing them with Hush."

Neo snatched the notebook back, her cheeks faintly pink as she furiously scribbled again. Not with embarassment; indignation. She held it up with a defiant glare, 'You're projecting.'

"Ha!" Roman barked out a laugh, "Projecting? Neo, I'm not the one who keeps getting rejected by guys because I won't stop staring at them like I'm planning their funeral arrangements." He never had problems getting a woman to his bed. Why? Because he had charm, class, and he didn't open the conversation staring at them creepily or loudly bragging about how amazing sex with him would be. He knew when to let his charisma do the talking.

Neo's face burned red as she tossed a pillow at him, huffing silently before flopping down onto the couch. She crossed her arms, sticking her nose in the air with an exaggerated pout. Roman leaned back, twirling his cane with a grin, "Hey, don't take it so hard, kid. You've got your talents. Just, you know, maybe work on not coming across like a homicidal mime. It might help your chances."

Neo rolled her eyes but didn't respond, which Roman took as a minor victory. He cared about her - probably more than he cared about anyone else - but someone had to be the voice of reason in this partnership.

Especially during her 'boyfriend from Mistral' phase. A year ago, after a really bad rejection and some (admittedly insensitive) comments from him, she was determined to prove him wrong. How, exactly? By showing off her new, never-before-seen, or mentioned, boyfriend. He remembered how she looked up at him with that smug little smile, the look in her eyes screaming 'See, I can get men whenever I want, neener neener neener'.

It would've been a whole lot more impressive if her boyfriend wasn't an illusion. The thing didn't talk, didn't touch anything, and spent all its time standing next to Neo and smiling placidly. Sure, maybe the 'kid' was just shy and mute (like Neo claimed to be), but he knew a con when he saw it. He still had no clue what she smoked to make her think she could pull a fast one on him.

He dared her to kiss 'him'. He remembered how she froze for just a split second before she pursed her lips and did exactly that, standing on her tiptoes. One little nudge to the back and she tripped forward, shattering the illusion on impact. It was a scene straight out of a sad romance movie. The heroine trying to give her lover one last kiss before he disappeared forever. Except this wasn't a tragedy. It was a thirsty woman trying to make herself look less desperate.

She bawled her eyes out after, as if she honestly believed she'd lost her boyfriend instead of just being caught out on her line of bullshit. He felt sorry enough for her to buy an extra tub of ice cream. She spent the whole night eating and watching porn in their shared TV. He felt a whole lot less sorry for her after having to hear hours of cheesy porno talk.

Still, Neo was his crazy murder midget (he got permission to call her that), so he'd have to deal with her craziness for now. Family was family and all that.

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Neo was not a creeper.

At least, that's what she told herself as she perched invisibly in the corner of a modest apartment, her legs crossed primly, and her eyes glued to the man standing a few feet away. He was shirtless, his toned back glistening faintly with sweat as he rummaged through a dresser for something clean to wear. Neo smirked, tilting her head as she imagined running her fingers down those muscles. Oh, what she wouldn't give to run her fingers down those corded muscles.

'This isn't creepy', she assured herself, gripping her parasol lightly. 'This is reconnaissance. Strategic observation. I'm being mysterious and alluring.' She adjusted her position slightly, leaning forward for a better view. 'He'll realize that eventually.'

To the untrained eye, sure, it might look like she was just sitting in a stranger's bedroom, invisible thanks to her Semblance, watching a man change clothes like a pervert. But Neo knew the truth. She was cultivating an air of enigma. A quiet, alluring presence that would leave men wondering 'Who was that captivating woman I felt watching me from the shadows?' He'd be mad with lust and curiosity, and then she'd be there to fulfill those needs

Her smirk widened as the man turned slightly, looking in her general direction, 'Perfect', she thought, 'Now just give me a sign you've noticed me. A little gasp of realization, a smile, maybe even a wink. I'll drop my illusion and we can-'

The man froze.

Neo stiffened, her heart pounding in anticipation, 'This is it. He senses me. He knows I'm here.' She readied herself to appear through a burst of shattered glass, her smile cocky and assured. Oh yeah, she was gonna get some tonight!

The man's head turned slowly, his brow furrowing as he scanned the room. Neo held her breath, her smirk faltering slightly at his not-so-excited expression. Then, his eyes darted toward the corner where she sat, and his expression hardened, "Not this again," he muttered, reaching for something on his nightstand. Neo blinked, tilting her head. What was he-

Before she could finish the thought, a jet of water hit her square in the face. She hissed, dropping her Semblance in shock as she scrambled backward, her illusion shattering like glass around her.

The man glared at her, water bottle in hand, "Out," he said firmly, pointing toward the door. Neo pouted, shaking water from her face like a soaked cat. She gestured indignantly, her hands flailing as if to say, I'm not a creep! I'm just...admiring you!'

"Out," the man repeated, spraying her again for good measure.

Neo yelped, bolting for the window with as much dignity as she could muster. She vaulted through it, landing gracefully in the alley below before turning to glare up at the apartment. 'Rude,' she thought, brushing herself off. He didn't have to spray me. That's not how you treat a mysterious admirer!'

She leaned against the alley wall, pulling out her compact to check her reflection. Her makeup was slightly smudged, her hair a bit damp, but she still looked fabulous. Neo snapped the compact shut, twirling her parasol with a flourish, 'Next time, he'll see the appeal. They always do.'

Not that she'd had much success yet. Men were oddly skittish around her. She couldn't figure out why. She was silent, elegant, and obviously attractive. She had style. Didn't guys like women with style? And her Semblance gave her a leg up - literally - in the whole mystery department. She was like a romantic heroine stepping out of a storybook...if that heroine happened to be following the hero around unseen for hours at a time.

Neo crossed her arms, frowning. Maybe men just didn't understand subtlety anymore. They were so used to loud, aggressive Huntresses throwing themselves at them that they couldn't recognize a more refined approach.

Of course, "refined" sometimes meant standing motionless in the corner of a guy's living room while he played video games, hoping he'd eventually feel her presence and fall madly in love with her. Or quietly following him from his apartment to the grocery store, watching as he picked out vegetables and imagining how romantic it would be to cook together. Or, once, hiding under a guy's bed while he slept, just to be close to him. That last one hadn't gone well. She'd sneezed, and the ensuing chaos had ended with another water bottle and a broomstick.

It sucked. The farthest she'd ever gotten was seeing a shirt off. It was like men could sense her desire (not thirst, shut up, Roman!), and every single time, they'd bring out the spray bottle and treat her like an unwanted intruder. Rude!

But Neo wasn't deterred. Every great plan had its setbacks. She was not being creepy. Creepy was lingering outside someone's house in the middle of the night with binoculars. Neo was sophisticated. She was cultivating intrigue. She was-

Another spray of water hit her square in the back of the head, snapping her out of her thoughts. Neo spun around, hissing at a random passerby who held up a water bottle defensively.

"Back off!" the man said, his eyes wide, "I can see your thirst, lady! Get outta here!"

Neo growled, snapping her parasol open with a dramatic flourish before storming off down the alley. 'Valean men are idiots,' she thought bitterly, 'I'm giving them the chance of a lifetime, and they can't even recognize it.'

Still, as she turned the corner and disappeared into the crowd, a mischievous glint returned to her eyes. She'd just have to try again. The perfect guy was out there somewhere, and when she found him, he'd appreciate her enigmatic allure.

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In the clinical halls of Atlas Academy, General James Ironwood strode down the corridor with his usual commanding presence, exuding authority and discipline. In a world where men couldn't use Aura, he gained his position not through brute force, but cunning and determination. It was through his tactical mind that Salem's incursions to steal their men had been constantly stopped. So long as he breathed, she would never take them for her nefarious reasons.

Beside him marched Winter Schnee, her posture rigid, her face composed, and her internal monologue a complete disaster. She stole a glance at him, her icy blue eyes tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the broad span of his shoulders, and the way his uniform fit him just so good. He was perfect. Strong. Stoic. A leader. Everything she wanted in a man. Everything she wanted in...a daddy.

Winter's cheeks flushed faintly at the thought, but she kept her expression neutral. She couldn't let him see how his mere presence was unraveling her composure. No, she had to play this carefully. Tactfully. Maybe today would finally be the day she'd make him notice her - really notice her.

"Winter," Ironwood said, breaking the silence as they approached his office, "You've been working exceptionally hard lately. I'm thankful."

Her heart soared at the words, but she forced herself to remain calm. Stay professional, Winter, "Thank you, sir," she replied, her voice smooth and collected, "Your approval means everything to me." She hesitated for a moment before adding in what she hoped was a seductive purr, "Daddy."

Ironwood blinked, stopping mid-step. He turned to look at her, his expression softening with what she could only describe as...paternal affection? No! "I'm glad you think of me that way," he said warmly, "I've always seen you as a bit of a daughter myself. I have no plans for children of my own, but if I did, I would've wanted them to be like you."

Winter's eye twitched. Not that way, she thought, biting back a groan. She wanted to call him daddy while he pinned her to the wall and- Focus! "Yes, sir," she said crisply, masking her frustration.

They entered his office, and the General gestured for her to sit. Winter folded her hands neatly in her lap, trying to compose herself as he sat across from her. His presence filled the room, commanding her attention. A new approach was needed Subtlety didn't work. Time to be more direct, "General," she began, her tone carefully measured, "I...I've been reflecting on my recent performance, and I feel I've fallen short of your expectations."

Ironwood frowned, leaning forward, "Winter, that's not true. You've been exemplary in your duties. You've more than exceeded my expectations in every way."

"No, sir," she said quickly, her voice tinged with what she hoped sounded like genuine regret, "I've made mistakes. Mistakes that deserve...punishment."

Ironwood's frown deepened, and a pang of guilt flashed across his face, "Winter, you're being too hard on yourself. No one's perfect, and mistakes are how we grow."

"But sir," she pressed, her cheeks warming as she leaned slightly closer, "I believe...I would benefit from more immediate correction. A stronger hand to guide me." She bit her lip, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, "Your...discipline."

Ironwood looked at her with a mixture of confusion and sadness, "Winter," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "I'm concerned about how low your self-esteem seems to be. If you're equating your mistakes with the need for corporal punishment, we may need to have a longer conversation about how you view yourself."

Winter froze, her carefully crafted plan crumbling in an instant, "W-what?"

"I've noticed this pattern before," Ironwood continued, his brow furrowed with concern, "You've mentioned being 'punished' in passing several times, and now you're bringing it up directly. Winter, I need you to understand that your worth isn't defined by perfection. Mistakes don't mean you deserve to be...bent over someone's knee and spanked." He paused, his expression growing even more puzzled, "And, come to think of it, I can't recall any military doctrine that allows commanding officers to spank their subordinates. I've looked at the archives to check and found no records. Where did you get that idea?"

Winter's face turned scarlet, and she straightened her posture, desperately trying to salvage the situation, "I-I didn't mean- I just thought-" She floundered, her usual composure utterly shattered.

Ironwood held up a hand, his expression kind but resolute, "It's okay, Winter. We'll work through this. If you ever feel overwhelmed or like you need help managing your stress, my door is always open. But I want you to promise me something."

She swallowed hard, nodding, "Yes, sir?"

"Promise me you'll stop being so hard on yourself. You're a brilliant officer and an asset to Atlas and to me. You don't need to punish yourself for every little thing." He smiled at her, his tone softening, "I mean it, Winter. You're doing great."

Winter's heart screamed in anguish. How could he be so sweet, so understanding, and yet so completely, utterly clueless?!

"Yes, sir," she managed, her voice trembling slightly.

Ironwood gave her a satisfied nod and turned his attention back to the reports on his desk. Winter, meanwhile, sat stiffly, her mind racing with frustration and humiliation.

'How is he not getting it?!' she internally screamed, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning aloud. She'd practically gift-wrapped the invitation for him, and he'd...he'd father-zoned her!

As the General continued reviewing paperwork, Winter clenched her fists, determination flaring in her chest. Fine. If subtlety and directness didn't work, she'd just have to come up with a new plan. But not today. Today, she'd lick her wounds and regroup, "Dismissed, Winter," Ironwood said, looking up to give her one last reassuring smile, "And remember, no more of this punishment nonsense. You're doing just fine."

She stood, saluted, and left the office, her face a carefully blank mask. The second the door closed behind her, she let out a strangled groan, burying her face in her hands. Why was he like this?! How did he not understand? Still, she refused to give up. James Ironwood was the perfect man, and one day, he'd realize she wasn't just some subordinate or...pseudo-daughter!

One day, he'd call her his Winter. And on that day, she'd finally get her spanking.

The next day came with the advent of a new plan. Winter Schnee was not a woman who gave up easily. She was a fighter, a strategist, a professional. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her ability to adapt and overcome challenges.

Unfortunately, James Ironwood was proving to be the most infuriatingly oblivious challenge of her entire life.

Today, she was trying a new approach. Subtlety hadn't worked. Directness had sailed so far over his head that she wasn't sure it even registered as a possibility. So now, she was going to deploy every ounce of feminine charm she could muster, short of literally jumping into his lap. And lap-jumping was an option if need be!

She stood in his office, the perfect picture of poise and professionalism, holding a tablet with a report she'd conveniently 'forgotten' to send digitally. The General was seated at his desk, his focus on another stack of papers, oblivious as always, "General," Winter said, her voice smooth and confident, "I brought the report on the Knight deployment for your review."

"Ah, excellent." Ironwood glanced up with a polite smile, taking the tablet from her, "Thank you, Winter. I'll look this over immediately."

Winter smiled back, stepping slightly to the side. With precise timing, she leaned forward to point at a specific section of the report, her posture deliberately accentuating her curves and generous bosom. She'd spent extra time that morning ensuring her uniform hugged her in all the right places.

"As you can see, sir," she said, her tone almost a purr, "Our forces have achieved significant efficiency gains. I thought you'd appreciate my...personal touch in the reorganization."

Ironwood glanced at the tablet, then back at her, "Excellent work as always, Winter. Your attention to detail is exemplary."

Her smile tightened, 'He's looking at my eyes. Why is he looking at my eyes?!' She straightened, forcing herself to stay composed, "Thank you, sir. I strive to exceed expectations in every way."

"Which you consistently do," he said warmly, already turning his attention back to the report.

Winter's eye twitched. Fine. Time for Phase Two. She stood back, clasping her hands behind her back in a demure pose, "General, if I may...I've been thinking about the importance of strong family values in Atlas."

Ironwood looked up, tilting his head curiously, "Family values?"

"Yes," Winter said, her voice taking on a softer, almost wistful tone, "It's so important for our leaders to set an example. And, well...I've always admired men who take on the role of a husband. Especially older men. They bring such wisdom and stability to a relationship. And, of course, younger wives with their nubile - " she coughed, her cheeks flushing faintly, " - bodies can offer vitality and energy in return. A perfect symbiosis, wouldn't you agree?"

Ironwood blinked, "That's a thoughtful observation, Winter. The balance between experience and youth is often a cornerstone of successful partnerships."

She froze. Did he just...agree? Her heart raced with a mix of hope and panic, "Do you...share that sentiment, sir?" she asked carefully.

He nodded, his expression serious, "Of course. A strong foundation is key to any partnership, whether professional or personal." Winter's lips parted slightly, her hopes rising. Was this it? "I hope you find a husband who values those qualities one day," Ironwood added, his tone kindand fatherly.

Her hopes crashed and burned. Of course. Of course, he thought she was talking about someone else/ She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, "Thank you, sir," she said tightly, "I'll...take that under consideration."

But she wasn't done yet. Oh no. If subtlety and indirectness failed, then it was time to be bold. Winter squared her shoulders and took a step closer to his desk, "Sir," she began, her voice steady, "I feel it's important to share something personal with you."

The General looked up again, his brow furrowing slightly in concern, "Is everything all right, Winter?"

"Yes, sir. It's just..." She took a deep breath, channeling every ounce of her nerve, "I've always found men who are...augmented, like yourself, to be very attractive. There's something so...commanding about the way they combine strength and precision. It's inspiring."

The General blinked, his face softening into an expression of gratitude, "Thank you, Winter. That's kind of you to say. Many people are wary of augmentations, believing it makes us less 'Human', so it's heartening to know that someone appreciates them."

Her pulse quickened. Was this it? Was he finally getting it?

"I've always hoped to set an example for those who might consider prosthetics or cybernetic enhancements," he continued, completely earnest, "I want people to see that such technology can be a tool for good and there that there's no shame in it."

Winter felt her composure slipping. He wasn't getting it, "Yes, sir. And...do you ever think about how such traits might...enhance personal relationships?" Like maybe allowing him to fuck her against that desk like a literal machine?

Ironwood smiled, "Certainly. Strong partnerships benefit from trust, adaptability, and mutual respect. Whether it's in the field or in life."

Her fingers twitched. He was impossible, "Dismissed, Winter," he said kindly, his attention drifting back to his work, "And thank you for sharing your thoughts. Your insight is always valued."

Winter stood there for a long moment, her jaw tight and her nails digging into her palms. Finally, she saluted, spun on her heel, and marched out of the office with as much dignity as she could muster, internally screaming in frustration the whole time.

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Glynda Goodwitch sat in her office at Beacon Academy, her immaculately polished glasses perched on her nose, her posture as perfect as always. The picture of maturity and authority. She adjusted a stray strand of blonde hair and let out a long, slow sigh, staring blankly at the paperwork in front of her.

It was a far cry from what she really wanted to be doing.

She wasn't shy about admitting it - at least not to herself. She was a grown woman, poised, professional, and in the prime of her life. She had needs. Desires. The same as any other Huntress. And, Glynda thought with a faint grimace, just as little luck satisfying them.

She stood and walked over to her desk mirror, adjusting her collar and giving herself an appraising look. The tight pencil skirt, the crisp white blouse, the hair tied back in that no-nonsense bun - she looked every inch the sexy librarian one would see in their most erotic dreams. Add to that the fact that she literally carried a riding crop with her everywhere she went, and it was practically a walking invitation for men with even the vaguest of submissive tendencies.

So why the hell wasn't it working?

She twirled the riding crop in her hand, tapping it lightly against her palm as her thoughts spiraled. Men just didn't seem to appreciate a mature woman (she was 37 and in her prime, thank you) these days. She wasn't some flighty, inexperienced little girl with no idea what she wanted. No, Glynda knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted a man who could handle her authority, who could understand her strength and confidence. One who'd let her...ahem, take the reins, so to speak.

Was it so unreasonable? Was wanting to whip a man until he begged for mercy, and then beg for something entirely different, really such a big ask?

Apparently, yes.

She sighed again, walking back to her desk and sitting down. It wasn't like she hadn't tried. Oh, she'd tried. Subtlety was the first approach, back in her younger days. A flirty smile here, a double entendre there. A casual adjustment of her blouse to emphasize her, ahem, assets.

But subtlety got her nowhere.

So she'd tried being direct, "I like a man who can handle a little discipline," she'd purred to one particularly attractive colleague at a conference. His face had gone pale, and he'd muttered something about needing to find his wife before fleeing.

Cowards, she thought bitterly.

And it wasn't just her colleagues. She'd tried going out in Vale, dressing to the nines in a figure-hugging black dress and heels that clicked with authority on the pavement. She'd leaned against the bar with a glass of wine, letting her presence speak for itself.

Apparently, the only thing it spoke was, "Don't talk to her unless you're prepared to have your soul dissected."

And then there was the incident at the bookstore, where she'd tried engaging a handsome younger man over their shared interest in classic literature. She'd mentioned something about the themes of submission and power in Suthering Heights and how intriguing it was to see men in such submissive, helpless roles. His response had been to run away before she could even finish her sentence.

She set the riding crop down on her desk, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Was it her standards? Surely not. She wasn't asking for much. Just a man who could appreciate her maturity and confidence, who wouldn't be intimidated by her authority, and who might, possibly, enjoy being tied up now and then while she smacked his skin raw. That wasn't unreasonable, was it?

Glynda groaned, resting her forehead on her desk. She could hear the screams of frustration of the younger Huntresses in the halls, no doubt sharing their latest tales of rejection and failure. And while she sympathized with their struggles, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation. At least they had time. She, on the other hand, was running out of patience.

Still, Glynda was nothing if not determined. She straightened her posture, adjusting her glasses and picking up her crop again. If the men of Remnant were too blind to see what they were missing, then that was their loss.

But for now, it was time to get back to work.

Glynda rubbed her temples, her glasses pushed up onto her forehead as she stared at the latest report on her Scroll. Of all the responsibilities she juggled as headmistress of Beacon Academy, this one had to be the most absurd: dealing with the White Fang, a group of Faunus Huntresses who'd seemingly decided that the best way to address their rampant thirst was to strong-arm the government into giving them boyfriends.

Or, failing that, some kind of legal mandate allowing them access to men who couldn't say no to their...desires.

She sighed deeply, setting the Scroll down on her desk, "What is wrong with this generation?" she muttered, tapping her riding crop against her thigh.

The White Fang had only sprung up recently, spearheaded by Faunus Huntresses who shared one common grievance: men kept rejecting them. Now, Glynda could sympathize to an extent. She knew firsthand the frustration of trying to entice a man and being met with awkward excuses, water bottle sprays, or outright panic. But forming a militant organization and staging protests outside government offices demanding 'equal access to men' was not, in her opinion, the way to go about solving the problem.

It only made the rest of the Huntresses look bad.

The latest report detailed their newest stunt: barging into the Council chambers in Vale, where they loudly declared that they wouldn't take on any more Grimm hunting missions until their "basic human rights to sexual satisfaction" were met. Apparently, their leader, Sienna Khan, had delivered an impassioned speech about how Faunus Huntresses faced an even harder uphill battle in getting laid than their human counterparts.

Bullshit. Did she not see how many men looked at Faunus and immediately got hard? They had it easier than the Humans!

Glynda had seen the footage. Sienna had slammed her fist on the table, shouting, "It's not just that men avoid us because we're Huntresses! It's because we're Faunus too! Do you know how many guys have told me they 'don't date cat girls?' It's a travesty!"

That was an absurd claim. Catgirls were only matched by Bunnygirls in the sheer amount of porn they inspired. Sienna was just angry that she had no luck. To make matters worse, they'd brought placards. Glynda could still picture them in her mind, with slogans like "Equal Men For All Women!" and "Horny, Not Hunted!"

Glynda pinched the bridge of her nose again, muttering under her breath, "What happened to the dignity of Huntresses? When did this profession become synonymous with desperation?" There used to be a sense of class with the Hunt, or so she told herself.

A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts, "Come in," she called, sitting up and smoothing her blouse.

One of her aides stepped inside, a young woman holding a file. She'd tried to get a male assistant, but it had been rejected by the Council. Even attempts to get one on her own ended with interviewees running for the hills, "Headmistress Goodwitch," She began, clearing herthroat, "We've received word that the White Fang is planning another demonstration. They're gathering near the commercial district this time, demanding...well, you know."

Glynda closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Of course they are. What are their demands this time?"

"They're insisting that the Council establish a rotational dating program," the aide said, clearly trying not to roll her eyes, "A 'fair allocation system' to ensure that every Huntress, particularly Faunus ones, get an equal shot at men. They're calling it the 'Love Lottery.'"

Glynda groaned, standing up and grabbing her riding crop, "Of course they are. And I suppose they think holding the city hostage will make this ridiculous idea seem reasonable?"

"Well, they've started camping out at the trade routes," the aide said hesitantly, "Apparently, they believe withholding their services will make the Council take them seriously."

Glynda tapped her crop against her palm, her irritation mounting. It was the same old song and dance. Give us boyfriends or we'll let the Grimm tear at the walls.

The aide shrugged helplessly. Glynda grabbed her Scroll and swiped through the report again, her eyes narrowing as she read more about the White Fang's tactics, "This is absurd. I'll have to go down there and remind them what their duties as Huntresses entail. The safety of Remnant comes before their libidos." Say what you would about her, but she earned her place as Headmistress...even if it was half-motivated by her beliefs that men would flock to her in droves for her heroics.

The aide hesitated, "Do you really think that'll work, ma'am? They're...pretty determined."

Glynda's lip twitched, "Determined or not, I refuse to let this Academy be associated with such ridiculous behavior. If they want to act like spoiled children, they'll be treated as such." The aide wisely chose not to comment, stepping aside as Glynda marched out of her office with her head held high.

As she walked through the halls of Beacon, she could hear whispers from students about the White Fang's latest antics. Some younger Huntresses laughed about it, others muttered enviously about the audacity to demand men directly, and a few whispered asking if they accepted Humans and whether they should try their luck. Glynda ignored them all, her focus on the task ahead.

The White Fang might have their grievances, but Glynda Goodwitch had her principles. And if they thought she'd let them hold Vale hostage for boyfriends, they were sorely mistaken. She adjusted her glasses and tightened her grip on her riding crop. If she had to personally march down to that protest and whip some sense into them, so be it.

But as she strode toward the transport bay, she couldn't help but mutter under her breath, "Although...a Love Lottery would solve a few of my own problems..."

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Hope you guys enjoyed this one. Baalbuddy Huntress wasn't something I thought would last this long. Anyway, see you.

Dead Man Walking (S.T.A.L.K.E.R story) - Chapter 1

Probably weren't expecting this from me. I've always been a big STALKER fan, but the fanfiction scene there is pretty barren. Still, with the release of STALKER 2, I figured writing something dour and depressing would up my mood. I also wanted to shift back a bit to more somber, cynical writing since I cut my teeth in darker fics like Twisted Reflections and Through the Looking Glass before pivoting to humor once I started writing for RWBY.

This is more of a cynical slife-of-life kind of thing. Right now there is no main plotline. Just snippets of the life of Hound, former Monolithian-turned-loner, as he struggles to survive in the Zone. As such, the stories are generally focused more on introspection and the Zone itself rather than extensive conversations like my other fics.

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The Skadovsk groaned against the force of the howling winds outside, its rusted frame shuddering like a beast battered by the merciless elements. Hound sat at the far corner of the bar, slouched in a chair that creaked under his weight, nursing a grimy shot glass filled with something that had once been vodka. He swirled the clear liquid idly, his gloved hand sluggish and worn, while his other hand rested on the heavy frame of a battered hunting rifle propped against his knee.

The room stank of stale sweat, old liquor, and the dampness that seeped in from the nearby swamp. Even now, the metallic tang of ozone cut through the air, carried in by the acrid wind that heralded the coming emission. Outside, the Zone raged. Crimson streaks of lightning painted the blackened sky, casting skeletal trees and twisted anomalies into jagged silhouettes. The thunder, muffled by the ship's corroded hull, came in bursts that felt like they were splitting the world apart.

Hound's eyes, dark and cold as the Zone's nights, flicked toward the doorway as the last stragglers stumbled in. The rookies were haggard, their cheap suits caked in mud and grime, faces pale with fear as they pressed past the door and slammed it shut against the searing heat of the emission. They stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, eyes darting nervously around, unsure whether to sit or simply stand and endure the contemptuous glares of the seasoned stalkers.

Rookies always looked the same, Hound thought with a quiet sneer. Wide-eyed and desperate, like they expected some legend to take them under their wing. Their idealism wouldn't last a week. The Zone would grind it out of them, if it didn't kill them first.

The Skadovsk wasn't a place for legends. It was a place for people like him - those who had seen too much, lost too much, and crawled into this decaying carcass of a ship to drink themselves into oblivion while pretending they could still make something of themselves. Even now, he could feel the judgmental eyes of the veterans boring into the rookies. Sych at the bar openly laughed, his half-rotten teeth bared as he exchanged some dark joke with Beard, who wiped a filthy rag across the counter. Owl sat perched on a table, lured by the call of alcohol and food, watching everyone with the predatory gaze of a bird of prey waiting for a mouse to slip up.

Hound took another swig of vodka, the burn spreading through his chest like a muted echo of life. It didn't drown out the memories, though. Nothing ever did. The faces of his former comrades in Monolith still haunted him. It wasn't their deaths that lingered - it was their fanaticism, the blank-eyed zeal with which they had marched toward certain doom, obeying voices that came from nowhere. Voices he had once followed without question.

But Hound had learned the truth, hadn't he? Or at least enough of it to understand that faith was a luxury the Zone couldn't afford. He'd seen the "revelations" for what they really were - fractured echoes of something alien and unknowable. The realization hadn't set him free, though. No, it had left him hollow, like a machine without purpose. And so he'd fled north, shedding the identity of a Monolithian like an ill-fitting skin. Hound wasn't even his real name, just another mask to hide behind. From what he gathered, it was a common name in the Zone. They were all hounds drooling over the artifacts like a dog to a bone.

The vodka sloshed as he tilted the glass, staring into its depths as though they might hold some answer. The emission raged outside, the shrieks of wind and the Zone's tortured screams growing louder. Some of the rookies flinched as the floor beneath them trembled. One of them, a kid who couldn't have been older than twenty, looked to the veterans as if hoping for reassurance. None came.

"First time?" Beard called out from behind the bar, his tone as rough as the bark of a swamp tree.

The rookie nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

"You'll live if the ship holds," Beard continued, though his tone suggested he wouldn't put money on it. The room chuckled darkly, but the sound was hollow. Hound smirked faintly and knocked back the rest of his vodka, savoring the fleeting warmth it brought. The Zone had no room for comfort. No room for hope, either.

The air grew heavier, oppressive. Even within the supposed safety of the Skadovsk, the emission pressed down like a weight on Hound's chest. His breathing slowed, deliberate, as he ran his fingers along the worn stock of his rifle. It wasn't the storm outside that bothered him. It was the stillness within - the waiting, the not knowing if the next crack of thunder would be the last sound they'd ever hear.

A man like him wasn't supposed to be afraid. And maybe he wasn't, not in the way the rookies were. But there was something in the air tonight, something even the vodka couldn't dull. He shook his head, setting the empty glass on the table with a clink. The sound felt unnaturally loud in the silence that had overtaken the room.

As the emission reached its apex, the crimson light filtering through the warped portholes painted the room in blood. Hound stirred his empty glass, pretending not to notice how the light made the shadows dance like specters. He told himself he didn't care anymore. The past was dead, and the Zone was indifferent. But deep down, he knew the truth.

You could leave Monolith. But you could never really leave the Zone.

Hound closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair as the Skadovsk shuddered with each agonized groan of the emission outside. For a moment, the distant echoes of the Zone's tortured wailing faded, replaced by something softer - a glimpse of golden light. It was a memory, or what he thought was a memory, tenuous and frayed like a spider's web catching the last rays of daylight.

A smiling woman. Her face wasn't clear, not really. The features blurred and distorted whenever he tried to focus on them, like a reflection in rippling water. Sometimes he saw it if he truly focused, catch a glimpse beyond the distortions, but all too quickly the memories faded before his mind could even process the picture.

But the hair...her hair was vivid, bright as the sun, spilling over her shoulders like a river of molten gold. She was laughing, though the sound of it was swallowed by the void in his mind. Was it a lover? A sister? Or just some fragment of a dream stitched together by desperation and loneliness? A woman in the television he'd obsessed over for no reason besides the fact that she had a pretty face and a nice smile?

The image faded, as it always did, leaving behind only the dull ache of something irretrievably lost. Maybe she'd been someone he knew before the Monolith took him, before he became another cog in its unfeeling machine. Or maybe she was nothing at all, just a figment conjured by his fractured mind to fill the void where his past should have been. It didn't matter. The Zone had stripped away everything else, why not his memories too?

He exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold, stagnant air of the Skadovsk. Around him, the other stalkers were quiet, their voices stilled by the weight of the emission and the heavy silence it brought. Even the rookies had stopped their nervous chatter, their wide eyes fixed on the scarlet flashes of lightning outside.

Hound reached for the bottle of vodka on the table, refilling his glass with a steady hand. He'd long since given up trying to piece together the puzzle of his life before the Zone. What little he remembered felt like someone else's story, fragments of a world he didn't belong to anymore. There had been a time when he'd tried - desperate searches for clues, questions asked in hushed tones to those who might have known him before. But the answers, when they came, were always the same: blank stares, shrugged shoulders, and the occasional hint of pity.

The pity was the worst.

He'd stopped asking eventually. The Zone didn't care who you were before. It only cared who you were now - and whether you could survive.

"Hey," a gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. One of the veterans, a wiry man with a scar running from his temple to his jaw, leaned over from the next table. "You got a smoke?"

Hound glanced at him, then down at the pack of cigarettes sitting by the vodka bottle. He slid one across the table without a word. The man nodded in thanks, lighting it with a battered Zippo that bore the faded insignia of some long-dead military unit. The ember glowed briefly, illuminating the hard lines of the man's face before fading back into shadow.

"Thanks," the veteran muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke that drifted lazily toward the ceiling. "Rough night, huh?" Hound didn't respond and just raised his glass in a silent toast; it was about as friendly as one could get in the Zone. The man smirked faintly and leaned back, his chair creaking under his weight.

Rough night. The words seemed absurdly inadequate to describe the unrelenting chaos outside. But then, what was there to say? The Zone didn't care about your feelings, your fears, or your fleeting memories of a life you could barely recall. It would chew you up and spit you out without a second thought, just as it had done to countless others.

He downed the vodka in a single swallow, the burn a welcome distraction from the weight pressing down on his chest. The woman's face flickered in his mind again, unbidden, and he clenched his jaw against the surge of emotion it brought. It wasn't longing, exactly. It was something colder, sharper - a gnawing sense of futility. She was gone, whoever she had been. The man he'd been before was gone too, buried under the rubble of Monolith's lies and the Zone's unyielding brutality.

The emission roared, a deafening crescendo that rattled the Skadovsk's frame and sent a shiver through the floor beneath his boots. Hound stared into his empty glass, his reflection distorted and warped by the curvature of the glass. It stared back at him, eyes hollow and unrecognizable.

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Hound stepped out of the Skadovsk at first light, the air thick with the metallic tang of the Zone after an emission. The world felt...raw, like a wound freshly opened. A faint haze hung over the marshes, tendrils of fog curling through the twisted remains of trees and pooling in the craters where anomalies lay hidden like predators. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant calls of mutated wildlife.

Artifact hunting. The bread and butter of a stalker. It sounded simple: find the strange, glowing trinkets birthed by the Zone's anomalies, sell them to traders, and live to repeat the cycle. So many rookies thought it was an easy way to fortune, and so many ended up as extra supplies stripped from their lifeless bodies. Hound had seen it too often - eager fools stumbling into a springboard or wading too close to an electro anomaly without so much as a detector to guide them. The Zone didn't tolerate ignorance, and it never forgave mistakes.

Hound slung his hunting rifle over his shoulder and checked his gear. Bear Detector (best he could afford)? Check. Lead-lined container for artifacts? Check. Enough bandages and medkits to patch himself up if things went south? Barely, but it would have to do. The boots on his feet were falling apart, the soles worn thin from too many days trudging through muck and ash. But a replacement pair would cost more than he made in a week unless this hunt turned up something special.

The swamp greeted him with a chorus of croaks and chirps as he stepped off the ship. Every step was calculated, deliberate. This place was alive, watching. The ground was uneven, riddled with puddles of stagnant water and the occasional patch of dry land, dotted with tufts of sickly grass. To an outsider, it might have seemed like an unremarkable wetland, but to Hound, every inch of it screamed danger. The subtle shimmer in the air ahead? An anomaly waiting to tear him apart. The faint buzzing in his ears? Radiation thick enough to make his teeth ache.

He activated his detector, the device emitting a faint beep as it came to life. The signal was weak - no artifacts nearby, but he wasn't expecting to find one this close to the Skadovsk anyway. No, the real prizes were deeper in, where the anomalies grew more unpredictable, and the Zone's grasp was stronger.

As he trudged forward, memories of other hunts came unbidden. The metallic taste of adrenaline as he sprinted out of a gravitational anomaly's pull. The sickening crunch of a fellow stalker crushed in a springboard trap, his screams cut short as his body folded like paper. The rare, exhilarating moments of triumph when his detector's beeping reached a fever pitch, leading him to a glowing artifact nestled in the heart of danger.

Other memories surfaced. Hunting down Stalkers across the red forest and the CNPP, the prayers of his 'brothers' as they worshipped the Monolith, the tearful pleas from Stalkers as they begged for their lives before he mercilessly gunned them down, staining his boots with their blood.

He shook his head. That time was behind him. This was his life now. Hunt for artifacts, sell them for a pittance to men like Owl or Beard, and scrape together just enough to keep going. There was no end to the cycle, no way out of the Zone that didn't involve a body bag or something worse. But it kept him alive. And as long as he was alive, he didn't have to think too hard about the past.

The detector chirped softly, snapping him out of his thoughts. The signal was faint but growing stronger as he moved forward, his boots squelching in the mud. He slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the area for anomalies. The air shimmered slightly to his left. Thermal, most likely. To his right, a patch of ground seemed unnaturally smooth, devoid of vegetation. A springboard, then. He adjusted his path accordingly, stepping lightly and keeping his detector in one hand and a bolt in the other.

The beeping grew louder, faster. Hound crouched, his breath steady as he approached a shallow crater half-filled with murky water. The artifact was here - he could feel it. But so was danger. The Zone never gave without taking something in return.

He reached into his pack threw the bolt, tossing it into the crater. It clinked against the rocks before vanishing into the water. Nothing happened. He tossed another, further in. This time, the air rippled, a faint shimmer revealing the edge of an electro anomaly. He marked its position in his mind, then skirted the edge of the crater, his detector guiding him closer to the artifact.

Finally, he saw it: a faint, pulsating glow beneath the water. A "Jellyfish," judging by the color and size. Useful for filtering radiation out of the bloodstream and a common artifact usually kept by Stalkers instead of sold to make their lives easier. Not the most valuable find, but worth enough to keep him going for another week or two. He crouched at the edge of the water, clenching his gloved hands before reaching for the artifact. His fingers brushed against it, and the detector screamed.

A flash of light. A crackle of energy. The electro anomaly flared to life, arcs of electricity lashing out with deadly precision. Hound threw himself backward, the artifact clutched tightly in his hand as the anomaly erupted, sending waves of heat and light into the air. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs, but he didn't let go. The Jellyfish was his, and he'd be damned if the Zone was going to take it back now.

He lay there for a moment, staring up at the sky as his heartbeat slowed. The detector was silent again, the anomaly calming as quickly as it had flared. Slowly, painfully, he sat up, inspecting the artifact in his hand. It was intact, its glow steady and mesmerizing.

One more hunt survived. One more step in the endless cycle. Hound slipped the Jellyfish into his lead-lined container and pushed himself to his feet, his knees protesting the effort. The Zone wasn't done with him yet.

Hound stood for a moment, his breath visible in the chilly morning air, watching the faint glow of the artifact fade within its container. The Zone hummed around him, a constant reminder of its presence, alive and relentless. This was his life now. This would be his life until it ended. There was no escape, no grand plan for something better beyond the invisible borders of this cursed land.

He'd heard the stories, of course - rookies and even seasoned stalkers fantasizing about leaving the Zone behind. They'd sit around the fire with their half-full bottles and cracked cigarettes, spinning tales about what they'd do with their riches. A cabin in the woods. A quiet house on the edge of a lake. A luxury apartment in some far-off city, filled with comforts and peace, far from the radiation, the anomalies, and the constant threat of death.

Some bragged about lovers back in the city, sweethearts who were undyingly loyal and just waiting for them to come back with a fortune for them to start a new life. A rare few even mentioned pregnant wives, acting as if going to the Zone was some noble calling for their family could live in comfort for years to come.

But those stories never rang true to him. He couldn't picture himself in them, couldn't imagine a life beyond this endless cycle of hunting, selling, and surviving. What would he even do outside the Zone? He didn't remember if he had anyone waiting for him. No family, no friends, not even a face to attach to the hazy memories that haunted him. The Zone had taken his past, stripped him of everything except the present. And it would take his future too, in time.

He adjusted the straps of his pack and began walking back toward the Skadovsk. The swamp felt quieter now, though not safe. The Zone was never safe. Every step was measured, deliberate, his eyes scanning for the slightest hint of danger. A ripple in the air, a shift in the ground, a shadow moving where it shouldn't. He'd been in the Zone long enough to know that it didn't let its inhabitants grow complacent. The moment you thought you understood it, the Zone would remind you who was really in control.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted back to the others; those who dreamed of escape. Maybe some of them made it out. Maybe they reached the borders with their packs full of artifacts, traded them for enough cash to start a new life, and disappeared into the world beyond while laughing at those still knee-deep in mud and radiation. But most didn't. Most ended up as corpses in the muck, their dreams sinking with them into the unforgiving soil.

Hound wasn't bitter about it. He wasn't jealous of their dreams or angry at their naïveté. He just...didn't care. The Zone was all he knew, and all he had left. The idea of leaving it felt as foreign as the world outside. It wasn't just the danger or the challenge that kept him here. It was the finality of it. The Zone didn't care who you were, what you wanted, or what you'd done. It didn't judge, and it didn't forgive. It simply was. And Hound found a strange kind of peace in that.

He didn't expect to live long enough to see an old man's death. The Zone would take him, sooner or later. Maybe he'd step too close to an anomaly, misjudge the pull of a gravitational field or the range of an electro. Maybe a mutant would tear him apart, its claws rending flesh and bone like paper. Or maybe a bullet would find him, fired by another stalker with fewer scruples and more hunger. It didn't matter. The Zone didn't promise a tomorrow, and Hound had stopped expecting one.

By the time he reached the Skadovsk, the sun was climbing higher, its pale light cutting through the haze. The ship loomed in the distance, rusted and broken but still standing, a refuge for the desperate and the damned. Hound adjusted his pack, feeling the weight of the artifact inside. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him going. Enough to buy a little more vodka, a few more rounds of ammunition, and maybe a replacement for his worn boots.

He climbed the ramp and stepped inside, the familiar smells of sweat, booze, and stale air washing over him. The bar was quieter now, most of the stalkers either out hunting or nursing hangovers in the corners. Beard looked up from his spot behind the counter, his expression unreadable, "Back so soon?" he asked, his voice gruff but not unkind.

Hound shrugged, pulling the container from his pack and setting it on the counter, "Found a Jellyfish. It's yours for the right price."

Beard nodded, reaching for the container and inspecting its contents. He grunted in approval and counted out a stack of rubles, sliding them across the counter. Hound pocketed the money without a word, already calculating how far it would stretch. Not far, but far enough.

Minutes later (and with a new pair of boots), he poured himself a shot of vodka from the bottle on the counter, the liquid catching the light as it filled the glass. He downed it in one go, the burn a familiar comfort. Around him, the murmur of voices rose and fell, the conversations of stalkers who still clung to dreams of fortune and escape.

Hound didn't join them. He didn't need to. He had the Zone, and it had him. One day, it would take him entirely. But until then, he'd keep walking its paths, hunting its treasures, and waiting for the moment when it decided his time was up.

It wasn't a life. But it was enough.

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Next chapter will be up whenever. Like I said, this is less plot-focused and more for just scratching the STALKER itch.

Fake It Till You Make It (comedic Jaune oneshot)

Sister and Brother-in-law went to America for a couple of months on vacation and took my (almost) two-year-old nephew with them :( Wrote something cheerier so I'd miss him less. This is an old idea I had before where Jaune has no Aura or training and yet somehow keeps going up till they reach Salem herself. Jaune is not pleased.

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Jaune stood in front of the massive, foreboding double doors of Salem's throne room. The sheer malice radiating from the other side of the entrance made his knees weak and his palms sweat. He gripped Crocea Mors tightly, though it felt more like a butter knife than a weapon of legendary heroism in his trembling hands.

Behind him, Ruby, Pyrrha, and Weiss stood with determined expressions, each ready to charge headfirst into what could only be described as the most insane fight of their lives. The fight to save all of Remnant. Their confidence radiated like a blazing sun, making Jaune feel like a smudge of dirt on a polished floor,"Alright, team," Ruby chirped, her silver eyes sparkling, "We've trained for this. We've fought our way through Grimm hordes, crazy henchmen, and whatever the heck that Tyrian guy was. This is our moment!"

Jaune winced at her enthusiasm, sweat beading on his forehead, "Y-yeah, about that, guys," he stammered, turning to face them, "Maybe I should, uh, sit this one out?"

Ruby blinked at him in confusion, "What? Why?"

"I agree, Jaune," Weiss said, her tone uncharacteristically soft for him, "You're one of us. You've grown so much since Beacon. You're an essential part of this team."

Pyrrha nodded, her green eyes shining with admiration, "You've come so far, Jaune. I'm proud of the warrior you've become."

The words hit Jaune like a sucker punch to the gut. He couldn't keep this charade up any longer. He had to tell them the truth, "No, guys, you don't understand," he said, voice rising slightly in desperation, "I'm not a warrior. I'm barely even a fighter. I...I lied to get into Beacon! I faked my transcripts! I don't have Aura! If a Beowolf sneezes on me, I'll die! I don't know how I've survived this long!" He literally didn't. They fought criminals, terrorists, Grimm, and the IRS. He should've been dead a hundred times over.

There was a beat of silence as his words hung in the air. He expected them to hate him, to look at him with disgust and scorn. Instead, Ruby burst into laughter, "Oh, Jaune, you're so funny," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "Classic Jaune, trying to lighten the mood."

"I'm serious!" Jaune yelled, his voice cracking, "I. Have. No. Aura!"

Weiss rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Jaune, your false modesty is getting old. You've done amazing things in the field. Remember when you took down that Alpha Ursa by yourself?"

"It tripped over a root and fell on off a cliff!" Jaune exclaimed, "I was hiding behind a bush the whole time!"

"And the time you led that village evacuation during the Nuckelavee attack?" Pyrrha added, her smile practically glowing with pride.

"I was running for my life, and they just happened to follow me!"

Ruby giggled, "Come on, Jaune. We all know you're just trying to make us feel better about how awesome you are."

Jaune's mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. How could they not see it? He was useless! They had been on the same team for two years! Two! How did nobody notice he didn't even know how to properly swing a sword? "Look," he said, trying again, "I really think it's best if I hang back this time. You know, moral support and all that."

Weiss scoffed, "Don't be ridiculous. You're one of our best assets."

"Assets?!" Jaune squeaked, "I don't even know what what half the Dust types do!"

Pyrrha gently patted his shoulder, "Jaune, I know you're feeling nervous, but that's normal. We're all scared. But we'll face this together, like we always do."

Jaune grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly, "No, Pyrrha, you're not getting it! I have the combat skills of a wet noodle! My Aura gauge is perpetually empty because I don't even have one! I faked my way in! I've been faking everything!"

Weiss crossed her arms, "Jaune, this is hardly the time for jokes. We're about to face the literal Queen of Evil, and you're wasting time doubting yourself."

Ruby nodded, "Yeah! You're a cornerstone of our team, Jaune. We'd be lost without you."

Jaune groaned, dragging his hands down his face, "You would be just fine without me. Probably better! I am not qualified for this!"

Weiss gave him a pointed look, "If you weren't qualified, how have you survived for two years without Aura? Hmm?"

Jaune flailed his arms, "Complete dumb luck!"

Ruby laughed again, "Sure, and I'm the Queen of Remnant!" That was a hell of a lot more likely than him being what they thought he was!

As Jaune stood frozen outside Salem's throne room, his team rallied around him, trying to lift his spirits. He was sweating bullets, gripping Crocea Mors like it was his last tether to sanity. Ruby, being Ruby, stepped forward with a pep talk that could make a rock feel like a hero, "Jaune, you've got this! Remember all the times you've saved the day?"

"Like what?" Jaune asked weakly, praying she wouldn't have an answer.

"Oh, like that time in Vale when Watts tried to flood the city with spam mail! You stopped him single-handedly!" Ruby grinned, her silver eyes shining with admiration, "Do you have any idea how inconvenient it would've been to delete all that spam?"

Jaune blinked, "Ruby...I tripped and spilled a glass of juice on the CCT router. Watts was literally yelling 'NOOOOO!' while I was apologizing for being clumsy."

Ruby waved her hand breezily, "But that's the thing! You turned a mistake into a victory! That's classic Jaune. You're like...the hero of accidental heroics!"

"That's not a thing!" Jaune protested, but Ruby ignored him.

Weiss, of course, wasn't going to let Ruby outshine her in the morale-boosting department. She placed a perfectly manicured hand on her hip and gave him a haughty smile, "What about the time you cunningly exposed Cinder's evil plans? That was nothing short of genius. Not even the Headmaster would've been able to pull that off."

Jaune groaned, "Weiss, that wasn't cunning. I was standing in the corner with such low presence that she didn't even notice I was there while she explained her entire evil scheme! She literally said, 'Wait, when did you get here?' after her monologue! The only reason she didn't kill me was 'cause I thought their evil plans were about a bake sale!"

"Exactly," Weiss said, pointing her finger at him like she'd made some profound point, "That shows restraint and tactical patience. You were biding your time, waiting for the perfect moment to act. A true tactician knows when to strike."

"I was eating a sandwich!" Jaune shouted, flabbergasted, "A sandwich, Weiss!"

"You were conserving your energy," Weiss countered smoothly, "And look where it got us. You're the reason we had the intel to stop her."

"I didn't even tell anyone about it until two weeks later because I thought she was selling brownies!" Jaune cried.

Before he could argue further, Pyrrha stepped forward, her emerald eyes filled with warmth and pride, "Jaune, don't listen to your doubts. You've been the glue holding us together. Like that time the team was falling apart during our first year at Beacon." She held his right hand with both of her's, "It's only because of you that we're standing here now, united."

"I didn't do anything," Jaune protested, yanking his arm back, "I just sat there, nodded, and said, 'That's rough, buddy.'"

"Exactly!" Pyrrha said earnestly, "You gave us a safe space to talk through our problems. That's what kept us together. Do you know how important that is?"

"I'm not a therapist, Pyrrha!" Jaune wailed, "I just have one of those faces that makes people feel like they can dump their emotional baggage on me!"

"And it works!" Pyrrha said with a proud smile, "You have a natural gift for empathy. It's part of what makes you such a good leader."

Jaune groaned, rubbing his face with his hands, "You guys have to stop thinking I'm some kind of strategic genius or a hero. I'm just...I'm just me!"

"Exactly," Ruby said with a grin, "And 'just you' is all we need. You're amazing, Jaune."

"No, I'm not!" Jaune shouted, his voice echoing in the cold, dark hallway, "I don't have Aura! I don't know how to fight! My 'great deeds' are all accidents, oversights, or dumb luck! If we go in there, Salem is going to eat me alive - probably literally - and I'm going to die, because I'm useless!"

The three girls exchanged amused glances.

"Oh, Jaune," Ruby said with a giggle, "You're so humble."

Weiss smirked, "Really, Jaune, you need to work on your self-esteem."

Pyrrha patted his shoulder, "We believe in you. That's all that matters."

Jaune threw his hands in the air, "It's like you're not even listening to me! Did you all collectively lose your minds?!"

The massive doors to Salem's throne room groaned open, cutting off his protests. The oppressive aura of the Queen of Grimm washed over them like a tidal wave of doom. Salem's silhouette loomed in the shadows, her sinister laugh echoing through the hall.

Ruby pulled Crescent Rose from her back, "Team JSPR! Let's go!"

Jaune's knees buckled as his teammates charged forward with battle cries. He stayed frozen in place, his mind racing with increasingly absurd excuses to run. Unfortunately, none of them seemed plausible. As Pyrrha glanced back and smiled at him encouragingly, Jaune sighed in defeat. He gripped Crocea Mors tightly and trudged forward, muttering to himself, "I am so dead. I should've just gone to culinary school."

"I hate my life," Jaune muttered before forcing his trembling legs to move. He followed them inside, Crocea Mors wobbling in his grip. As the team strode into Salem's throne room, the oppressive weight of her presence bore down on them like a stormcloud. The dark monarch lounged on her obsidian throne, her crimson eyes glowing with an otherworldly menace. Grimm of all shapes and sizes prowled in the shadows, their guttural growls echoing off the stone walls.

Ruby, Weiss, and Pyrrha stood tall, their weapons at the ready, faces set with grim determination. Jaune, on the other hand, shuffled in last, his knees wobbling like gelatin as he tried - and failed - to suppress a whimper. He was going to die, and then they'd immortalize him as some brave hero who commited the ultimate sacrifice because somehow the only way he could fail was upwards.

Salem's eyes roved over each of them, her expression unreadable. She finally stood, the room growing even colder as she descended the steps of her throne with an unnerving grace. Her gaze fell on Ruby first, "Ruby Rose," Salem said, her voice a mix of honey and venom, "The Silver-Eyed Warrior. The one fated to stand against me. A symbol of hope in a hopeless land."

Ruby tightened her grip on Crescent Rose but said nothing, her silver eyes narrowing.

Salem's gaze shifted to Weiss, "Weiss Schnee. Heiress to the Dust empire from which all mortals depend on. The supposed redeemer of your bloodline's legacy. You wield your family's gifts with remarkable skill. It will not save you."

Weiss huffed, but her determined stance didn't waver.

Then Salem turned to Pyrrha, "Pyrrha Nikos. The invincible warrior. A prodigy who has bested every opponent, a champion even among champions. You are formidable indeed."

Pyrrha met her gaze without flinching, her expression calm and composed.

Finally, Salem's eyes landed on Jaune. For a moment, she seemed to hesitate, her expression sharpening into something almost unreadable. Her glowing crimson eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a twisted smile, "And you," she said, her voice dripping with malice, "Jaune Arc."

Jaune froze like a deer in headlights. He instinctively looked behind him, praying she was addressing some other Jaune Arc. No such luck.

"To think-" Salem continued, stepping closer, "-that the greatest threat to my plans would appear in such an unassuming form."

Jaune's jaw dropped, "Wait, what?"

Salem gestured dramatically, pacing slowly, "You - the one who outmaneuvered Arthur Watts, destroying his plans with cunning and precision."

Ruby grinned and elbowed him, "See, Jaune? Even she knows how awesome you are."

Jaune sputtered, "That was an accident! I tripped over a cord! The soda saved the day, not me!"

Salem ignored him, her focus unwavering, "The one who exposed Cinder Fall's ambitions, forcing her to reveal her plans before she could strike."

Weiss smirked, "It was a brilliant move, Jaune."

"I was invisible to her because I'm a nobody!" Jaune cried.

Salem's eyes gleamed with cold fury, "The one who held your team together during their time at Beacon, ensuring that they stood here now."

Pyrrha beamed at him, "You've always been our foundation, Jaune."

"I just nodded a lot and offered snacks!" Jaune exclaimed, his voice cracking, "And they weren't even the good snacks!"

Salem stopped, standing directly before them, her towering presence casting a shadow over him, "Of all the warriors who have stood before me, you are the one who has truly unnerved me, Jaune Arc. Moreso than even Ozma. For you possess the most dangerous weapon of all."

"What?" Jaune whispered, feeling faint, "Dumb luck? Not knowing what sunk cost fallacy meant until literally yesterday?"

Salem leaned closer, her crimson eyes blazing, "Unpredictability."

Jaune blinked, "...What?"

"You don't fight like a trained Huntsman," Salem said with a sneer, "You stumble through battles. You bumble through encounters. You destroy meticulously crafted plans through sheer accident. You are chaos incarnate. And for that, you are my greatest threat. I could plan for decades, and you would counter them all with your mad intellect and whimsy."

Jaune felt his knees buckle, "No...no, this can't be happening..."

Salem's voice rose, echoing through the chamber, "Even if your companions manage to defeat me, I will ensure you fall with me. You, Jaune Arc, will know no peace. I will dedicate every fiber of my being to your destruction."

Jaune's lip quivered, "But I don't even want to be here..."

Ruby clapped him on the back, oblivious to his distress, "See, Jaune? I told you you're awesome!"

Weiss nodded, smirking, "Even Salem admits you're the lynchpin of this operation. Maybe now you'll stop being so self-deprecating."

Pyrrha smiled warmly, "We're so proud of you."

Jaune let out a strangled sob. He didn't know whether to collapse, scream, or bolt for the door. His brain was scrambling for an escape route, but all he could do was stand there, clutching Crocea Mors like it was a life preserver in a sea of insanity. Salem stepped back, her smile twisted with dark satisfaction, "Come, then. Let us see if your madness will prevail against my wrath."

Ruby raised her scythe, "Let's do this, team!"

Weiss summoned her glyphs, Pyrrha drew Milo, and Jaune...Jaune started praying to whatever gods were listening.

"Oh, Brothers," he whimpered, "Why me?"

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The throne room was in shambles. Broken pillars littered the ground, scorch marks marred the once-pristine obsidian walls, and Grimm ichor oozed from the slowly dissipating remains of Salem's monstrous Grimm. At the center of the room, Ruby knelt, Crescent Rose planted in the ground as her silver eyes dimmed, their incredible power having finally done its work.

Across from her, Salem stood frozen mid-scream, her body slowly being overtaken by the creeping gray of petrification. She couldn't be killed, and now she never would be. The malice in her crimson eyes remained undiminished, even as her movements grew sluggish, "Curse you!" Salem snarled, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. Her fiery gaze landed on the one person she deemed most deserving of her wrath, "Jaune Arc."

Jaune, lying face-up on the floor and looking like he'd been hit by a truck, weakly lifted his head, "Wait, what?" he croaked, his voice cracking. He must've been hearing things, right?

"You..." Salem hissed, her body stiffening further as the stone climbed her torso, "You are the reason for this! You, with your bumbling incompetence disguised as cunning! You...with your deranged mind and cunning"

"Cunning?" Jaune wheezed, "I threw my sword at you, and it missed by twenty feet! It didn't even land on the pointy end!"

Salem's lips curled into a snarl, "You distracted me! You broke my focus!"

Jaune flopped his head back onto the floor, staring at the cracked ceiling in utter disbelief, "That wasn't a distraction! I just panicked and threw it because I was out of ideas!"

Weiss stepped forward, brushing dirt off her dress with the grace of someone who hadn't just been in a life-or-death battle. Somehow she managed to look graceful despite being covered head-to-toe in muck and grime, "And it worked marvelously, Jaune," she said, offering him a proud smile, "That distraction was crucial to Ruby landing the final blow."

"It wasn't a distraction!" Jaune cried, throwing his arms into the air, "It was a miss! I wasn't even aiming at her - I closed my eyes and threw it in her general direction at best!"

Weiss ignored him, "You really need to stop doubting yourself, Jaune. It's unbecoming."

Meanwhile, Salem's petrification reached her neck, but her rage continued to burn, "Mark my words, Jaune Ar!," she snarled, her voice echoing with dark power, "Even if it takes countless millennia, I will return. I will claw my way back from the depths of the abyss. And when I do, I will hunt you down. I will tear open the veil of death itself to bring you back, just so I can end you again! I despise you more than wretched Ozma!"

Jaune's eyes went wide with horror, "But I didn't even do anything!"

Ruby, still recovering from the Silver Eye blast, managed a weak thumbs-up, "You're so modest, Jaune..."

Jaune looked at her, utterly flabbergasted, "I AM NOT BEING MODEST!"

Salem's eyes burned with fury as the stone began to envelop her face. Her final words echoed like a curse, "JAUNE ARRRRRCCCCCC!"

With that, she was silenced, her entire form encased in stone, her expression forever frozen in a mask of unrelenting hatred.

Jaune stared at her petrified form, his chest heaving. He turned to his team, his voice quaking with exhaustion and sheer disbelief, "Why does she hate me so much? Ruby's the one with the Silver Eyes! You three actually fought her! All I did was trip over a rock and throw my sword into the corner of the room!"

Pyrrha stepped forward and helped him to his feet, smiling at him warmly, "And yet, Jaune, that's what makes you extraordinary. Even when the odds are stacked against you, you find a way to turn the tides any way you can."

"I missed, Pyrrha! I contributed nothing!"

Weiss rolled her eyes, "Oh, stop being so dramatic. You're alive, Salem's defeated, and we won. Isn't that what matters?"

Jaune groaned, putting his face in his hands, "No. What matters is that I'm apparently going to be the sole target of her undead revenge for eternity!"

Ruby giggled weakly, "Aw, don't worry, Jaune. By the time she comes back, if she ever does, we'll all be long gone. Like space dust."

"Yeah," Jaune muttered bitterly, "Except she said she'd bring me back." He slumped back down to the ground, staring at his sword, which was still lying down pathetically in the far corner of the room, nowhere near Salem.

Weiss crossed her arms and looked at him thoughtfully, "Well, at least now you have a legendary nemesis. That's not something just anyone can say. Some would consider that a sign of greatness."

"Yeah," Jaune said flatly, "Lucky me."

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The victory celebration was a spectacle for the ages. Across the lands of Remnant, fireworks lit up the skies, music blared in the streets, and people cheered themselves hoarse. Salem's defeat - or at least her indefinite petrification - had brought a wave of relief that rippled through every corner of the world. Human and Faunus, rich and poor, all stood side-by-side in celebration and relief.

But not everyone was in a celebratory mood.

Jaune sat slumped in a chair in the corner of the grand banquet hall, a glass of punch in his hand and an expression of pure exhaustion on his face. He wasn't sure how he'd managed to survive the events of the last week, much less come out of it as a hero in the eyes of seemingly everyone. He'd tried sneaking out to avoid the spotlight, but somehow, someone always managed to shove him back into the crowd, insisting he was the "star of the show."

As he stared at the fizzing pink liquid in his cup, wondering if he could quietly melt into the wallpaper, a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Jaune?"

He looked up to see Pyrrha standing before him, her cheeks tinged with a soft pink that wasn't entirely from the warmth of the room. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, a rare display of nervousness from the normally composed champion.

"Oh, hey, Pyrrha," Jaune mumbled, too tired to muster more than a faint smile, "Enjoying the party?"

Pyrrha hesitated, then sat down next to him, her emerald eyes filled with warmth, "Not as much as I'd like to. I've been trying to find a quiet moment to talk to you."

"Talk to me?" Jaune asked, raising an eyebrow, "About what?"

She looked down at her hands, her blush deepening, "Well, after everything we've been through - everything you've done - I realized I don't want to wait any longer to tell you how I feel. Jaune, you're brave, kind, and - "

"Oh, please," a haughty voice cut in, "If anyone is going to win Jaune's affection, it should be me."

Jaune and Pyrrha both turned to see Weiss standing there, arms crossed and a tight smile on her lips. She looked as poised as ever, though there was a mischievous glint in her eyes that was out of character.

"Uh...Weiss?" Jaune said, completely bewildered.

"Pyrrha, you're sweet and all," Weiss continued, waving her hand dismissively, "But let's be realistic. Jaune needs someone who can match his growing reputation. Someone who understands the pressures of fame, diplomacy, and leadership. In short, someone like me."

"Excuse me?" Pyrrha said, her smile tightening as she stood up to face Weiss, "I've fought alongside Jaune as his partner for years. I know him better than anyone."

"Do you?" Weiss asked with a raised brow, "Because I was the one who recognized his potential from the beginning. I've always known he was destined for greatness."

Jaune blinked, "You've called me 'hopeless' more times than I can count. You literally looked at me like I was a turd under your shoe for the first week and tried to depose me as leader." If he could go back in time, he would've slapped his younger self upside the head and told him to take the out.

"That was encouragement," Weiss said, not missing a beat, "And clearly, it worked."

Before Pyrrha could retort, Ruby darted in between them, holding up her hands, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Let's not forget who actually took down Salem here!"

Weiss raised an eyebrow, "We took down Salem. All of us."

Ruby smirked, "Yeah, but I was the one who froze her with my Silver Eyes. And Jaune was the crucial distraction that made it happen, so I think it's pretty clear we've got the most epic team-up story here. Which, obviously, makes me the best match for him." She pointed at herself with her thumb, her smirk never wavering.

Pyrrha and Weiss both scoffed, turning on Ruby in unison, "Excuse me?" Pyrrha asked.

Ruby looked back, completely unfazed, "You heard me. He helped me save the world. That's totally soulmate material."

Jaune sat frozen, his mouth hanging open as three of the most attractive women in all of Remnant started bickering - loudly - over who should be his girlfriend. It was the kind of situation he'd daydreamed about for years, being the hero who women fought over, but now that it was actually happening, all he could feel was overwhelming exhaustion. He didn't deserve it. He'd gotten her because fate or the gods or whoever had a sick sense of humor.

"Guys," Jaune said weakly, but they didn't hear him.

"He needs someone who can support him in battle!" Pyrrha argued, "Someone who understands his heart!"

"Please," Weiss said with a scoff, "He needs someone who can elevate his status and provide stability for the challenges we'll face."

Ruby crossed her arms, "Or maybe he just needs someone fun who knows how to fight evil queens with him!"

Jaune put his head in his hands and screamed, the sound lost in the wide banquet hall. The three continued to argue about who deserved to be his girlfriend more even as he wandered off and tried to find the punch bowl Nora spiked. This was gonna be a long night...

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Poor Jaune. Gets fame, adoration, and a harem of Huntresses after him. However will he survive?