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thannwriting · 1 year ago

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Percy x Pyrrha

Their estate was colossal, befitting that of a Great House’s estate. Spanning multiple acres, it was more than large enough for the six of them who would be staying there, that being Qrow, a kid named Oscar Pinewood, Tai, Penny, Winter, and himself. Ironwood had informed him that Penny and Winter would stay in Mistral for the time being, unless something more urgent occurred back in Atlas. He surmised that they were staying because Ironwood wished to keep tabs on him, which was fair. Still, Nao had insisted on making an imperial palace suitable for an emperor. He could move Mercury and Neo in if they proved themselves trustworthy. Maybe, if Lionheart permitted it, he could move Teams WRBY and JNPR into the estate. He wanted to see his friends, and Pyrrha especially, but it had been a long day. That would have to wait for tomorrow.

Percy stopped after the guards and the gates, noting that he could see it—the massive to-be imperial palace—undergoing construction already. The gates closed with a solid clang behind him. It was on the highest plateau of Mistral, slightly elevated above the rest of the city. It was going to be a behemoth of a palace, larger than any Mistralian noble’s estate could ever dream of being. He shook his head in mild amusement, continuing into the courtyard, parts of which were shaded by plant-covered pergolas, others by great arch structures made of marble.

The courtyard had to stretch at least an acre by itself, housing a variety of lush trees, from cherry blossom trees to bonsai trees to sakura trees. There was an intricate water fountain designed at the center, where the liquid cascaded downward; its base was a mosaic of polished stones, which formed concentric rings, leading the eye of the viewer toward the heart of the fountain. Since it was such a large courtyard, he saw workers busy watering the plants and flowers; each cradled a watering can, its spout aimed at the thirsty roots of the vegetation. Apparently, this was the last round of caring for the verdure before they called in for the night.

Entering the main building, Percy made his way up to the quarters, which were on the third floor. He could either take the elevator or the stairs; tired, he chose the elevator. It was fast, and the doors soon opened; he stepped out. They had given him the master bedroom, and he didn’t know what he would do with all that space—perhaps buy some decorative furniture and lights? Speaking of which, the corridor was fairly dim, lit by only torches that flickered every dozen seconds or so. Moving toward his bedroom, he stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar figure in the passageway, leaning on the wall beside the double doors leading to his room.

Pyrrha? Why was she here? It was late, almost midnight; wasn’t she supposed to be at the Haven Academy dorms? Even still, he was glad she was here. He took a moment to trace his eyes over her figure. Draped in traditional Mistralian robes that complimented her figure, she looked almost hauntingly beautiful in the low light of the passageway.

“It’s good to see you, Pyrrha. How have you been?”

“…I’ve been well. Let’s go inside.” At the end of her sentence, her voice wavered strangely; he dutifully followed her into his sleeping quarters. They were decorated in the main theme of aquamarine, black, and silver, consistent with his usual color scheme. The ceiling housed a combination of electric light bulbs and torches. A king-sized bed was set up along the center of one of the walls. There were couches on the sides of the room, on one of which Pyrrha sat. Whoever had set up his bedroom had done a very good job.

“Percy… I have something to tell you.” That trembling voice caused him to swivel his head from the furniture, examining her instead; seated on the black velvet settee, she would not meet his eyes, her gaze downcast on her lap, as if it were frozen. Her legs were drawn together.

“What is it?” he asked. When she did not respond, he moved to join her on the couch. When he did so, he sat precisely next to her; not so close that they were overlapping or crammed, but just touching, the lines of their legs melting into one, their shoulders connected by some static friction. He tilted his head back, resting it against the top of the upholstered banquette.

The combination of torches and overhead lamps made for a warm, yellow glow within the room. The only sounds were that of the flickering torches, and that of their breaths; somehow, he found himself breathing in sync with hers, their chests rising and falling together. Her hands were limp, devoid of movement; the backs of her hands were placed on her lap, her fingers facing upward; every now and then, the tips of her fingers trembled slightly. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“I killed someone.” She shifted in her seat so that she faced him, although their gazes still did not meet. “Back when you were in Atlas. Someone tried to assassinate me in my bedroom. I’m sorry, it caught me so off-guard, I just—”

She stopped when he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her; her lips were soft to the touch. She leaned backward onto the arm of the settee; he followed, closing the distance between their torsos, as he placed himself atop her lap, his legs on both sides of hers. His hands wandered around her torso, one settling on the dip in her shoulder blade, the other one resting on the small of her back. He felt her shiver when he gently drummed his fingers in the shallow curve, the line that ran down her back. He could feel her rapid heartbeat, just as he was sure she could feel his.

“Don’t worry. It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. No one would blame you, and I won’t either. You were in danger—you did what you could.”

“But—”

He drew her into his chest, silencing her protests. With one hand placed on the back of her head, the other on one of her shoulder blades, he reveled in the warmth they provided each other, and the allure of her scent. She tried to push him away, but he kept a firm hold on her. Eventually, she relented, allowing him to fully draw her into the embrace. Her breaths came in short gasps, and he felt hot tears touch his skin; they had soaked through the gossamer fabric of his robes.

Somehow, for a fraction of a second, Annabeth replaced Pyrrha. At first, the shift was negligible. He couldn’t help but gauge the similarities. They were almost the same height. But he could recall it vividly. That moment when he was comforting Annabeth about the prophecy in the Athena Cabin, at Camp Half-Blood. Scarlet hair turned blonde, and emerald green eyes turned stormy gray. Even her scent changed, from cherries to that lemon shampoo.

“Hey, Seaweed Brain! Missed me?” At those words, his breath caught in his throat, and he almost dared to move to look at her, some part of him hoping that it really was her in his arms. Once he did, it all changed back. Pyrrha Nikos was in his arms once more. It was a glimpse of what it was, what it could have been.

Still, his hold on her tightened, unrelenting, signifying that he wasn’t going to let go anytime soon. Their combined weight dipped the cushions of the banquette. The fingers on his right hand tangled themselves in her locks of hair—they were incredibly smooth and pleasant to the touch, like the velvet texture of the sofa. Leaning his head down somewhat, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her tresses. “Cry all you want; I’ll be here for you. I’m just glad you’re fine.”

“…I’m right here, Percy.”

Sensing that she was alright now, he let himself go. He squeezed his eyes shut as he held her in a gentle embrace, enfolding her body into his. Trembling, he tried to process the words she had uttered; she had almost been killed by an assassin. He couldn’t believe he had almost lost her. He’d lost everyone he cared about already on Earth—including Annabeth. He still remembered her; even in Pyrrha’s embrace. Now, on Remnant, he wouldn’t let it happen to the friendships and bonds he’d built. Never again, he swore.

“I almost lost you, Pyrrha. And I didn’t even know.” His tone alerted her of his weakness—she wasn’t meant to hear it, but she did anyway, in the shuddering words he spoke. He felt her move against him, offering him some warmth of her own.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of his robes. “I’m sorry.”

They sat like that for a while, in that fragile silence, losing track of time—it was minutes, maybe even hours. And even though there had been an attempt on Pyrrha’s life by an assassin and a near-death experience during the Battle of Shion… In his mind’s eye, Pyrrha’s image flickered into Annabeth’s once more. Her cherry scent changed into that lemon shampoo that Annabeth used. He knew it was just a hallucination. He knew that it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. And despite how desperately he wanted to move on, to forget his Wise Girl, he couldn’t. It wasn’t something he could push away. If he could only offer Pyrrha a part of his heart, what good was that? At how things stood, he was being unfair and selfish. That meant…

“You still love her. Annabeth. You haven’t moved on.” It wasn’t a question, only a statement. She could tell; somehow, she knew. Perhaps she had felt it in their embrace. He swallowed but didn’t reply. For her, the silence was answer enough. He felt her begin to move away, and he shifted himself off her lap, granting her space, as she faced him, finally meeting his gaze. One hand remained tangled in his raven-black tresses, the other falling to her lap. There were slight traces of red, in the corners of her eyes, indicating that she had been crying. Even now, her deep wells of emerald green were glistening with tears, perhaps even more.

They overflowed onto her cheeks, falling down and off her chin onto the fabric of the banquette. She did nothing to stop them. He wished more than anything that he could comfort her, but this had been caused entirely by him. He retracted his hands, resisting the overwhelming urge to touch her, to console her. She shut her eyes, cutting off the tears, though some remained on her lashes.

“…Am I a replacement?”

“No, Pyrrha, you’re not.”

But even now, he saw and felt Annabeth.

Ashamed, he averted his gaze to his lap. He found himself drawing a long breath, his chest involuntarily shuddering; he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her, but here he was, doing just that. He thought he was fine. That he had moved on. But even as he tried to fall for her warmth, her touch… Annabeth remained entrenched in his mind’s gaze. How she had said he drooled when he woke up that first day at Camp Half-Blood. How she always had his back when he needed it, when he was at his best or at his worst, how she was always level-headed. How they went to hell and back together. How he felt her lingering touch in the innermost parts of his chest. How she had saved him from the River Styx’s clutches in that crucial moment to gain the Curse of Achilles. How she called him Seaweed Brain. That bond was unbreakable.

He forcefully closed his eyes. But it wasn’t the bond between Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase; this was a bond between him and the memories of her, which continued to hold an unyielding grip on his heart. He was still thinking of the way that it was, that it had been. But Annabeth was gone. That part he understood perfectly well. He had to accept that when she had passed away, some part of him did, too.

A slender finger reached his chin, tilting it upward so that her viridescent eyes peered into his aquamarine ones, regarding him.

“Tell me, Percy, for our sake…” she began, her voice quivering, despite how she tried her best to hide it, “Do you love me?”

No, it wasn’t just the way he felt her warm breath tickling his cheeks, their lips so near that he began to hallucinate her very touch, or the way her carmine bangs flitted back and forth gently, then paused on her cheekbones, or the way he yearned to rest on her patient lips, to share his passion with her, or the way her long hair fit her perfectly but she could pull off short hair, or how loving her pink lips looked, or how ethereal her eyes looked. No, it wasn’t just that.

He admired her soul, too. That independence and strength, her unwavering resolve and pride to become a huntress, that same resolve that had rejected fate and destiny, just like he had wanted to do all those years ago. She was so gentle and kind that he genuinely believed that she was the type of person to gather up an injured butterfly and try to help it. She was logical-minded while considering the feelings of others and approached everything with caution and honesty. The way he felt like he was more whenever he was hers. She completed him in a way wholly distinct from Annabeth.

Yes, they had only shared a kiss, but that left no doubt in his heart. He wasn’t just going through the motions of loving her—he did love her.

“I do,” he conveyed firmly, gazing deep into those beautiful emerald orbs of hers, “I love you, Pyrrha.”

“And yet you still love her.” Her accusation—no, statement—struck deep. Stung, he glanced away again, unable to bear the weight of her gaze. That was right. He loved her, but the question remained if she did, too. He was jaded, a shell of his former self; even now, he was scattered. It was clear to both of them: Annabeth would forever hold a place in his heart. He knew that it was selfish of him to offer Pyrrha what remained of his love; he couldn’t be so conceited as to demand that she love him. It was unfair to her; she deserved better than that. Someone more dependable could probably come along and love her much better and make her much happier than he could. That was why, if she refused, he had no reason but to wholly accept it. Even if she was everything he wanted. Even if it hurt him, tore his heart in two.

Even if he loved her.

Having finally made up his mind, Percy raised his head, examining her. She was still, her own gaze fixed on her lap as if she were forming her thoughts, even now. In the lingering quietude, he became acutely aware of her, his mind fixing every detail of her: her smooth fingers absentmindedly tangled in his locks, her lashes shading her eyes, the warm light of the lamp illuminating half of her face in a dreamy orange, the other half shrouded in soft darkness. The pallor of her skin was stained with the moisture of tears. He wanted so badly to reach his hands out and wipe away those tears, but he refrained from doing so, for the fear of hurting her even more. How their breaths intermingled and mixed in the cool air of the room. The way her hair splayed across the banquette like it was floating. Like an angel.

But he knew what he had to do.

“Pyrrha, I’m sorry.” The next words caught in his throat. They wouldn’t come out, no matter how he tried.

“I won’t make you forget about her,” the words were whispered so quietly, so softly, that he almost didn’t catch them, even in the silence of the room, “Of course I’d rather have you to myself. But…” she drew a breath, mustering the strength to meet his eyes. His breath lulled.

“So long as a piece of your heart belongs to me…” a wry smile graced her lips, a bittersweet look in her eyes, “I’ll gift you with all of mine.”

Stunned by the sincerity of her words, Percy blinked a few times, processing them. “…You… mean that?”

“Yes.” Then, as if to confirm her statement, she leaned forward, briefly capturing his lips with her own soft ones. A tint of red appeared on his cheeks at the motion, and he glanced away briefly.

“It may be a bigger piece than you think, Pyrrha.” That seemed to please her, as she giggled, that beautiful, tinkling sound of laughter that poured forth from her lips.

“Over time, I’ll claim more and more of that heart of yours.” The strength of her words accurately conveyed her sentiment, and smiling, she leaned in to kiss him again. He parted his lips to grant her tasting tongue access, and their bodies enveloped each other, curves and contours fitting together once more, in that way that was right. And unlike before, it was Pyrrha Nikos instead of Annabeth Chase. It was her, that unique aroma and feel, rather than a phantom of the past. Their kiss deepened, a mingling of passion and tenderness as if they were trying to convey all the emotions they couldn't put into words. He lost himself in the moment—the pleasant weight of her body intertwined with his, the subtle swell of her chest, and the feeling of her arms wrapped around his shoulders. They separated momentarily to catch their breath, breaking the kiss. His right hand trailed across the diaphanous fabric of her robes. He saw nothing, nobody, except her.

“Thank you, Pyrrha.”

“You can thank me more in a different way.” Both of them knew what she was referring to as she began leaning in to meet his lips once again, but much to both of their chagrins, he interrupted her.

“We should discuss other things, too. About the assassin.” A somewhat hurtful look appeared in her eyes temporarily, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and she nodded understandingly. Then, she pulled back. Her breaths were slower and more controlled, now; she had regained her composure. In front of him was a well-constructed facade, carried by Pyrrha Nikos, winner of numerous tournaments, a huntress, and Heir Apparent to the Nikos Family.

“I think they were a hybrid—a half-Grimm, half-human. He just snuck past the guards and broke in. Later, I trained in the forest and realized something: the Grimm,” she looked at him, the intentness in her stare conveying the importance of her next words. “They were grouping, an alpha directing them in basic battle formations.”

Battle formations? Even a group leader? Packs of intelligent, evolved Grimm would prove to be difficult for average huntsmen to take care of. Even more importantly, they didn’t have any freelancer huntsmen left in Mistral; all that remained were huntsmen from the military and students from Haven Academy.

“That’s… not good.”

Pyrrha let out an exhale of amusement. “Right.”

Salem was making her move. He was sure of it. If the information Neo and Mercury provided him wasn’t enough, this only further confirmed his suspicions: Salem was in Mistral. The Grimm wouldn’t behave this way if she wasn’t.

“I’ll see what I can do about it for classes at Haven Academy.” If he could get Lionheart to meet with his professors and begin implementing more tactics-based classes that stressed the importance of teamwork, then the students at Haven would be more prepared.

“There’s one more thing,” Pyrrha spoke solemnly, drawing his eyes back to her. “Salem is immortal. But not the kind that you’ve fought before. She possesses instant regeneration, and wields a magic unseen before, beyond the reach of semblances.”

“I… see.” An immortal magic user, with nigh-infinite regeneration. If the flesh was regenerated out of thin air, it would require him to incinerate her until no cells were left for her to regenerate from. However, if the flesh was regenerated from Grimm flesh, then he would need to cut the power off at the source—perhaps Erebus’ own, original source from which the Grimm rose. However…

“Then I have one thing, as well,” he swallowed, preparing for his next words and her subsequent reaction. “I’m becoming a god, Pyrrha.”

With bated breath, he waited for her response. Her eyes flitted down briefly, then back up.

“You mean…the type that you fought in the past, right? The Greco-Roman pantheon?”

“Something like that.”

She paused. “That’s good. You may be able to rival Salem, then.” She hesitated again. “Does that mean… you’ll become immortal?”

He didn’t know the answer to that question. On Earth, although the gods had offered to make him immortal, he didn’t know if this ascension contained the same concept. The root of his ascension was the worship and reverence that he received from Mistral as its sea and sky deity. But that didn’t necessarily mean that he would be immortal, although it was likely. With no other option other than to tell her the truth, he did so.

“I don’t know. It’s possible.”

Pyrrha frowned, and he resisted the urge to draw her into his embrace once again. “In any case, I don’t think it’s something we should worry about right now.”

He had to eliminate Salem and her influence from Mistral—erase her existence. By any means possible.

His mind became distracted as he swept his gaze over her right shoulder and collarbone. Was that a xiphos—his mark? What was it doing on her collarbone? As he leaned closer to inspect it, his warm breath dipped into the hollow of her clavicle, causing her to notice his look.

“The mark appeared to me in the middle of battle during the fight, during the most dire moment,” she offered. “It seared itself on my skin; I don’t think it’s removable. Do you know what it is?” She was awfully calm for someone who had just received what was essentially a small tattoo.

“I have an inkling. Do you know if it did anything?”

“I think it increased my maiden powers.” Curious, he moved closer, the couch once again dipping under their combined weight. It was a bloodred xiphos crossed against a golden shield. “May I?”

“Yes.” Gently, he pressed the pad of his index finger to her soft skin, sweeping his finger across the mark. It wasn’t engraved—the skin didn’t dip or raise; it seemed like it was a part of the skin. The mark seemed to hum at his touch, and she suppressed a shudder.

Was this his blessing? He was sure it was. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have appeared on her in the middle of battle. According to Pyrrha, it had been in the most dire moment. He hadn’t intentionally placed a blessing on her without his permission; it must have flared up when it sensed her in danger.

But there was more to it. It seemed more powerful than a blessing, more thorough, more fluid. That left no doubt in his mind; he could feel the connection. The way her skin seemed to vibrate at that spot when he brushed it, while his finger pad tingled, the way a string seemed to connect them, even more than before. It reminded him of the tethered rope that had saved him from the River Styx.

She was his Champion.

—From Chapter 45 of my PJO x RWBY fanfic, Never Change. The chapter itself isn't up yet, though, just this snippet here on Tumblr. Feel free to check the fanfic out!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14077305/1/Never-Change

Never Change - Chapter 1 - Wattpad

#rwby #pjo #romance #percy jackson #pyrrha nikos #fanfic #never change fanfic

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thannwriting · 1 year ago

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Yang sneaks up on Ruby (Lancaster)

Ruby peeked from behind the tree, watching Jaune chop the wood they were going to use for the campfire. Technically, she was supposed to be gathering berries right now, but she’d already done it.

Berries were nowhere as good as cookies, she harrumphed. And that was final.

No matter how much Ren tried to convince her and Nora otherwise, with his disgusting green smoothie shakes...

Uncle Qrow had made them do everything they needed to do to live out in the wilderness, which included foraging and hunting for food. Once the cookie snacks ran out, there were no more cookies...

Jaune stood tall, a heavy axe in his hand. Ruby watched as he brought it down, grunting, making a noticeable dent. He brought it back up for another round, and slammed it home on top of the wood, splitting it cleanly in two. Both pieces fell to the side, and he was already bending down to get another block to hew.

J-Jaune was shirtless!

Ruby unashamedly watched, as the tight muscles of his arms flexed and rippled with every grunt. With every forceful swing of the axe, muscles across his body rippled. Biceps, triceps, deltoids, pectorals.

In the morning sun, his sweat glistened on his skin. He set the head of the axe into the next chunk of wood, as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, perspiration dripping onto the ground.

Since when was Jaune lean and beefy, and almost tan? Noodles weren’t supposed to be beefy, they were supposed to be limp and skinny! Beacon, and more specifically, Percy’s and her dad’s training routine, had done him nothing but favors.

“Hey Ruby.”

Ruby would have ‘eeped’ if not for the hand muffling her mouth. She kicked and struggled for a few moments, but eventually gave up. She couldn’t physically overpower Yang.

“So, whatcha looking at?” Yang whispered conspiratorially, “Ladykiller again?”

“What do you mean again?” Ruby whispered back furiously.

“Aww don’t play coy~” her elder sister grinned, “You’ve been watching him for the past thirty minutes haven’t you, you dirty little sister... Watching his muscles at work, dripping sweat~”

Ruby’s face and ears turned red at the image her dirty mind conjured up.

“Yang!” she launched herself at her sister, tackling her into the brush, further from Jaune. Still, it only widened Yang’s stupid grin. They grappled for a few short moments, before Yang came out on top, pinning Ruby beneath her.

“Alright, alright, I think it’s interrogation time,” Yang grinned.

Noooo-

“So, why do you like Jaune?”

“W-What do you mean?” Ruby played innocent.

Yang looked at her.

“Sis, you are the worst liar I’ve ever seen,” Yang rolled her eyes, “Come on now, out with it.”

“Okay, fine!” Ruby tried to throw her hands up in exasperation, but suddenly remembered that Yang had pinned them to her sides.

“I like him because he was there for me, okay? He was just like me. My first friend at Beacon.”

Ruby could still remember when she blew up dust and made a crater, and he was there for me, offering her his hand. It made her feel fuzzy and warm inside, thinking of him. Appearing to her like her knight in shining armor, unafraid and unrelenting.

“We were two awkward dorks that had each others’ backs. He’s nice, and honest, and dorky, but that’s what I like about him. He’s clueless, and dorky, and a klutz, but all the little things he does are what I like about him. He told me about his tr-”

Ruby cut herself off abruptly, internally panicking. She couldn’t betray Jaune’s trust like that! No way! Not after he confided in her!

“He told me about his troubles,” Ruby amended, mentally clapping herself on the back for the quick thinking, “He confided in me. He trusted me. He’s honest, and caring, and kind. That’s what I love about him.”

Ruby finished, looking up at Yang hopefully.

The blonde had a massive grin on her face.

“I think someone’s in love~”

Yang sobered up, “Okay, I approve. You like him for him. You can date him, but on one condition:”

Ruby didn’t like this.

“No fooling around in the dark you know? We’re all trying to sleep, so at least keep it quiet if you’re too pent up, you know~”

Ruby moaned in distress.

—From Chapter 33 of my PJO x RWBY fanfic, Never Change. Feel free to check the fanfic out!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14077305/1/Never-Change

Never Change - Chapter 1 - Wattpad

#lancaster #rwby #yang xiao long #ruby rose #fanfic #jaune arc #never change fanfic

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thannwriting · 1 year ago

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Jaune and Ruby Moment

Jaune walked in the moonlight.

The only sound was the sound of his footsteps crunching on the leaves. His hands were in his pockets.

He walked slowly, lost in his thoughts.

Back when he had joined Beacon... the only goal was to become a huntsman.

Just to honor the line of huntsmen that had come before him. His father, his grandfather, who fought in the Great War for Vale, his father before him, and his father before him.

To become a hero, destined to help those in need. That was who he had wanted to be, back when he had foolishly joined Beacon without even aura.

And now...

They were waging war against the Queen of the Grimm.

Oh, and she was immortal too. With nigh-instantaneous regeneration...

The fate of the world rested on their shoulders.

And, with that reminder, Jaune’s shoulders felt like they were holding up the very definition of responsibility.

It was insane, stupid, crazy! He definitely wasn’t cut out for this.

It was incomprehensible.

They couldn’t do this. He would have backed out of this entire thing long ago...

But...

They had the best allies on their side.

Perseus Jackson, or Apollyon. His team leader, and his good friend. The most powerful demigod of his age, who held too many titles to count, and had already saved the world twice over. This was nothing new for him.

Qrow Branwen and Taiyang Xiao-Long were members of the famous Team STRQ, and experienced, powerful huntsmen in their own right.

Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl of Mistral, his partner, who was also a quarter maiden.

Oscar Pine, formerly Professor Ozpin, or Ozma. A reincarnating wizard, who had been holding Salem off for thousands of years.

It seemed like he couldn’t be relied upon, though. After what had happened... Ozpin, or Ozma, just didn’t appear anymore.

Jaune, just like everyone else, wanted to punch his face out. Qrow and Tai had both wanted to cave his skull in.

What had happened in that story fractured what little trust they had left in Ozpin.

Lying to them, keeping things secret, and even causing the entire situation in the first place. It was...

He clenched his fist. It was unacceptable.

Only the presence of Percy had helped them change things up and allowed information between them to flow more freely. Teamwork.

Even so, their two groups weren’t shabby at all. They had all come a long way since Beacon.

But they could lose. They weren’t infallible.

Despite everything, they were just first-year huntsmen trainees. What if something happened to one of them?

If assassins came in the middle of the night, or if one of them went down in battle... what would become of them?

He was still the stupid, foolish boy who had cheated his way into Beacon and faked his transcripts. He was the weakest of their group.

And so, if the day came that something would happen to one of them...

Jaune hated to admit that he would be too weak to do anything about it.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the snapping of a twig.

He whirled around, hand on Crocea Mors, drawing it. There was a flash of steel, and it was in his hands in an instant.

“Who’s there?”

A certain black and red-haired girl stepped out from behind a tree.

“Ruby?”

“H-Hey, Jaune,” she waved at him, embarrassed.

He sighed, sheathing his sword.

“Ruby? Why are you here?”

“I heard you get up from your sleeping bag,” she admitted, “You couldn’t sleep?”

Jaune thinned his lips, “No. You couldn’t either?”

“O-Oh... yeah...”

“Hey, Ruby.”

“Y-Yeah, Jaune?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure!” she chirped.

“How do you feel right now?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked uncertainly.

“How do you feel about...” Jaune ran a hand through his hair, “I dunno, everything. How are you taking it?”

“I... I’m not super sure...” she admitted.

There was a silence that ran through the clearing. Neither of them really knew what to say.

And then, Ruby was the one to fill the silence.

“I-I always wanted to be a hero, a huntsman,” she started, “Kinda like you, in a way. I wanted to be one of the great heroes in the fairytales, and to help the people...”

“I never thought it would have turned out like this, though,” she continued, “With everything that’s going on... it’s almost too much.”

Jaune’s shoulders slumped, and he let out an exhale through his nose, “Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re here? Because you couldn’t sleep?”

Ruby came closer to him, looking into his eyes. Jaune drew back, and she pushed forward.

“A-Are you scared?”

Jaune drew in a sharp breath.

“Y-Yeah.”

His back hit the trunk of a tree.

“Why are you scared?” she peered at him, with those wide, beautiful, silver eyes of hers.

“I-I’m afraid. I’m afraid that something might happen to one of us. Maybe someone comes and attacks us in the middle of the night. Maybe one of us goes down to the Grimm...”

“And I’ll be too weak to do anything about it. I’m the deadweight of this group.”

“I’m not Percy. Despite all the training, I’m not even near anywhere you guys are. I’m still...”

He laughed mirthlessly, gesturing to himself, “At the end of the day, I’m still me. I don’t have that much skill or strength. I’m not like Percy, who has that much strength and power and skill.”

“I’m not like Pyrrha, who is a quarter maiden and can fight her way through anyone. I’m not like Yang, who can punch through whatever’s in front of her, or Nora, who can smash through anything she wants to. I’m not like Weiss, who can use dust to do almost magic, or Blake, who can clone around quickly. I’m not like you, who can speed around, or even Ren, who can provide us with support and shield us from the Grimm.”

“And, even if I had that much strength, I don’t think it would matter. Even Percy couldn’t save everyone. At the end of the day, I’m just...”

He closed his eyes. He let out a breath, shuddering.

A warmth was clasped around his hands. Jaune opened his eyes, looking down.

Her small hands, somehow warm, clasped around one of his hands. Silver eyes met his blue ones.

“You’re you, Jaune. Don’t be so mad at yourself. None of us are all powerful,” she said softly, “And like you said if even Percy couldn’t do anything about it, why should you worry? And that’s what matters.”

“You’ve come a long way. We all have. We have to be ready,” she insisted, pressing into him.

“And how are we supposed to be ready for an immortal Queen of the Grimm, with insane magical powers and equally insane instant regeneration?”

Jaune knew he was playing the devil’s advocate here, but part of him didn’t care. He didn’t care.

“I-I...”

“How are we going to do it? Isn’t this just the world’s most advanced suicide mission ever? What’s even the point? We might as well all die anyway,” he laughed mirthlessly, “That way we can die together!”

“J-Jaune... I-I don’t know...”

He realized that he had advanced towards her, and her back was against a tree now. She had her hands out, trying to placate him.

A silence permeated throughout the clearing. He took heavy, deep breaths. He took a step backward, and then another step.

He had been screaming at her. He had been yelling at her, like some child throwing a tantrum.

What kind of person was he?

Fuck, he was horrible. He had just blown up in Ruby’s face, all for nothing.

He exhaled.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for yelling at you. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

Jaune slumped, slowly lowering himself and sitting on the ground. His back leaned against the trunk of a tree.

After a split second, he heard Ruby come to sit beside him.

“Yeah, I kinda get it, honestly,” she chuckled slightly, “Sometimes I also want to yell and scream too. It’s like, super super insane that we’re doing this. We’re just teenagers.”

“And how do you deal with it?” Jaune asked.

“Everyone has different ways of dealing with it. Yang likes to put her anger into workouts. Weiss and Blake would become cold and distant... I would probably, I dunno, funnel my anger into training too, and burst into rose petals, y’know? I don’t really have time to sulk.”

“That... actually makes a lotta sense...”

Ruby sighed, “Yeah. We just need to endure this,” she shuffled closer to Jaune, their shoulders touching.

“We can do this! Believe in yourself, Jaune, believe in your team- Believe in us!”

The corners of his lips seemed to lift up ever so slightly at her words.

He cracked a smile, “Y-Yeah. Just believe.”

“Sometimes, you just have to believe.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, and he thought he could feel her smile. He smiled, too.

He didn’t want to see that smile ever fade away. More than anything.

He vowed silently to never let it happen.

Arc’s honor.

—From Chapter 36 of my PJO x RWBY fanfic, Never Change. Feel free to check the fanfic out!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14077305/1/Never-Change

Never Change - Chapter 1 - Wattpad

#rwby #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #fanfic #never change fanfic

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thannwriting · 1 year ago

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Blake and Weiss have a therapy session

Shrouded in a soft darkness, Weiss lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Even in the absence of light, she could tell that it was a perfect off-white, the texture smooth and clear. She wondered if it was rotting on the inside, tearing at the seams and falling apart. Like her.

Tossing and turning, she lay there for hours, trying to sleep. They had classes early tomorrow. Sometimes it was too hot, other times too cold. The clock struck two. At the same time, she found the pillow too warm; she flipped it to the other side, only to realize it was warm on that side, too—she must have flipped it earlier. She needed to get up.

She gently kicked the wrinkled sheets away so that she could sit up. Shuffling herself out of bed and climbing down the bunk ladder, she made sure to be quiet, in case she disturbed her roommates. Once she was near the ground, she slid her feet into the slippers that Haven had provided them. They were soft, made of satin and velvet, and the pleasant feeling accompanied her as she padded her way out of the dorm room and toward the bathroom. Feeling against the wall with the back of her right hand, she finally found the light switch and flicked it on using her index finger.

The electric bulbs strewn across the top of the mirror and the ceiling cast a warm yellow on the pallor of her face—not quite as warm as the torches that had been put out earlier in the night. She could feel a tired ache setting in her bones, though she didn't seem to have eyebags yet. Moving her tongue along her inner left cheek back and forth several times, she felt a textured line there; she must have bitten her cheek earlier.

She was far from her father, but she continued to feel the bars of the cage that he had kept her in all her life. His decisions had dictated her life for as long as she could remember; perhaps that was why she continued to feel his presence over her shoulder, like the opposite of a guardian angel.

For a moment, she debated going back to bed but ultimately decided to go outside. She made her way down the stairs and out of the dorms, taking care to avoid a guard on his nightshift patrol.

The midnight air brushed against her cheeks. The moon was high in the sky along with the stars, and even though they were partially obscured by clouds, they cast a soft, white glow on her skin. Moving across the garden, she sat down on a plain rosewood bench. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Jacques Schnee had influenced her actions that night, no doubt. But her decisions were her own regardless; she couldn’t blame this on her father, or anyone else but herself.

Her hands were shaking, trembling slightly, refusing to remain under her control; using her right hand, she grabbed her left wrist, attempting to calm herself. Even now, she could vividly remember that night. What she had done.

She bit her lip and tasted blood. Was she that fragile, that delicate?

A white flower caught her gaze from across the courtyard. It might have been a jasmine flower, but she couldn’t tell from this distance. Venturing closer confirmed her hypothesis. The moonlight only amplified its brilliance, the pleasant fragrance drifting into her senses and enveloping her. Her gentle, warm breaths tickled the leaves, and they seemed to open ever so slightly in response. The sound of the crickets softly chirping only added to the ambiance of the atmosphere.

That night was a mistake that could not be forgiven. A mistake that she never should have made. A sin. And that was the simple truth.

She had always thought of herself as a good person; someone on her high horse. She was good, the Schnee Dust Corporation was good, and the White Fang was bad. When Winter left, and she became the Heiress, everything changed. Jacques wasn’t good anymore; he was bad. So she had adjusted her worldview, continuing to keep the black and white ideal.

But there was no right or wrong, no black or white; only gray. That was something every child learned as they grew older; some learning that lesson earlier, others later. Everyone lied, some for themselves, others for the sake of their loved ones.

“Weiss?” At the sound of her name, she was broken out of her thoughts, and turned her head, noting that Blake was awake. She must have made too much noise while climbing down.

“Blake… Are the others awake? Did I wake them up?” she asked. The amber-eyed girl shook her head in the negative. She joined Weiss on the bench, sitting next to her; there remained a small gap between them.

“Why are you up so late, Weiss?” Turning, Weiss met her gaze—her yellow orbs were filled with some combination of curiosity and worriedness. “It’s nothing,” she found herself replying in haste. She had never been close to Blake, and she felt hesitant to discuss sensitive topics like the Schnee Dust Corporation with the cat faunus.

“Did something happen in Atlas? Does it have to do with the Schnee Dust Corporation?”

“…Something like that.”

Blake did not respond, her yellow orbs transfixed on her hands as if collecting her thoughts. Her black tresses swayed in the night breeze.

Despite being her teammate, neither of them really knew each other that well. They had chafed with each other at first. How could they not? They were the exact opposite of each other. Blake was a revolutionary faunus, in the chain of command for the White Fang, directly related to Adam Taurus. She was a jaded rebel who was skeptical of everything. She had only ever seen the world oppress the faunus, with the SDC leading the charge. But Weiss was the Schnee Heiress, and she had only ever witnessed the atrocities committed by the White Fang in retaliation. That was what shaped her worldview. She had been somewhat arrogant when she had first met the rest of her team; she had been spoiled, handed everything on a silver platter, but trapped within a cage. Every one of them had their own problems.

“Have you ever killed someone?”

Weiss froze, turning her head. “What do you mean?” She didn’t understand why Blake was asking such an outlandish question. Of course, she had never killed anyone before.

“It’s just a question. Answer it honestly, please.”

“No.” A thought struck her. “Do you mean to say, before Beacon—”

“No, I didn’t, thankfully. I witnessed Adam do it, though.”

“Adam Taurus.”

“Yeah. He murdered someone in cold blood,” Blake’s voice remained steady. “An SDC worker who was just unloading some dust crates. The way Adam drew his blade like it was routine for him. Something he’d done a thousand times before. You know what the most insane part was?”

“He made sure he suffered. He didn’t cut the head off clean like he could have. He had fun with it. Toyed with him, twisting the blade in the flesh. Sliced his gut open. The intestines were on the ground. Only then did he finally tear his throat out. I couldn’t do anything but watch.”

Bile threatened to rise in her throat, and Weiss swallowed, forcing it back down. To distract herself, she bounced her right knee. Blake seemed detached as she spoke, although her voice gave away what she really felt. “Afterward, he told me the story of a faunus unloading dust crates from a faunus-run dust company. This was before the SDC had become a monopoly. The faunus had been brutally mauled by a human thief. Limbs strewn about on the ground, hanging on by the nerves and the skin, teeth cracked and chipped. Throat slit open. “SDC” was scarred into the skin of the stomach with the point of a knife. Adam said we merely were paying it back in blood. Every single faunus death. No half measures. It was them, or us. His actions made that very explicit.”

Her stomach churned at Blake’s words, even as she tried to force her mind to stop picturing it. Weiss stopped bouncing her knee. Even though so many relatives had disappeared when she was just a child, this painted an all too gruesome picture of what had happened to them as captives.

“Up until then, I was still stuck in a fantasy of freeing all the faunus from their human oppressors. We were doing the right thing. But after that, I left the White Fang, searching for my own path. That was when I got to Beacon. We all had our fair share of troubling experiences.”

“Sorry,” Blake apologized. “I didn’t mean to unsettle you like that.”

“No,” Weiss found herself replying, in light of Blake’s confession. It painted a much clearer picture of her teammate, and she even found herself sympathizing with the cat faunus, something that she never thought would have ever happened. “It was…” she paused, searching for the right word, “enlightening.”

Blake snorted in amusement. “I’m glad I told you it, then.” Her teammate closed her eyes and rested her head on the bench. “I’m not expecting you to tell me anything about what happened in Atlas with the Schnee Dust Corporation, either.”

Weiss nodded somberly. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Without noticing it until now, Weiss found that they were sitting beside each other, shoulders and legs touching ever so slightly. Instead of pushing away the moment of physical contact like she undoubtedly would have done half a year ago, she embraced it. She shifted next to Blake.

The gap closed entirely, and Weiss leaned her head on Blake’s shoulder. The amber-eyed girl leaned her head on top of hers. She might have hated Blake at first, but now, she understood why Professor Ozpin had assigned them to one team. Like Ruby, Blake’s worldview was also incredibly different from hers. Each of them provided one another with a new perspective.

That was what was important in a team.

—From Chapter 45 of my PJO x RWBY fanfic, Never Change. The chapter itself isn't up yet, though, just this snippet here on Tumblr. Feel free to check the fanfic out!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14077305/1/Never-Change

Never Change - Chapter 1 - Wattpad

#rwby #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #monochrome #fanfic #never change fanfic

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thannwriting · 1 year ago

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The Eternal Rivalry

Blake Belladonna glared at the monstrosity that stood before her.

Her true archnemesis.

It was a disgust upon this planet, a filth upon this very world! A quadrupedal which blatantly and shamelessly lied with its face and lolled its tongue, winning the hearts of all of her team! The aberration had even won over the Ice Queen herself with its stupid tongue panting! But not hers. Never hers.

The disgusting canine that the rest of their team called Zwei stood before her on all fours, huddling over an item that was rightfully hers... Her beloved Ninjas of Love!

Blake wept inside at the loss of her 'literature', but on the outside, her stoic façade never cracked. She had to remain strong in the face of powerful adversity, this-this abomination!

The evil masquerading as 'Zwei' barked at her, and she narrowed her amber eyes, tensing.

Her plan would work this time! Never mind that it hadn't worked the previous three times, the fourth time was the charm! Or that was the saying anyway, she was pretty sure. She would get her beloved book back, and all would be well.

Blake pounced, the cat faunus lunging towards the book with all her feline might. The abomination named Zwei tried to block the book from her sight.

She scoffed internally. Canines, how predictable. He was a dog with his aura unlocked, so what? He was still a dumb canine. A clone left the four-legged monstrosity in the dust, and a large grin spread across her face as she reached out for the book.

Her fingertips just brushed the edge of the book, when all of a sudden, a set of sharp jaws chomped down on it.

Blake's eyes widened to comical portions as the dog ripped her beloved book away from her grasp.

"NOO-"

"Oh hey Blake, what's up?"

She whirled around to see none other than her partner standing in the doorway, one eyebrow raised in question, the rest of the team behind her. She had to take a moment to compose herself, even if she kept seething internally.

"The monster has my book," she stated flatly.

"You mean Zwei?" Yang asked, Blake looking at her with a blank stare. She refused to give that-that thing, a name!

Weiss pushed past her, kneeling to p-pet the- the aberration!

"Aww~" she cooed, "Who's a good boy? Yes you are, yes you are!" she ruffled the monstrosity's ears, rubbing his belly.

Her right eye twitched, as she seethed. How could anyone think that- thing, was cute!? It didn't make sense. That stupid lolling, drooling tongue, and that idiotic face? It was a mutt!

And it was making a chew toy out of her book.

"Give me my book back!"

In a burst of speed, she lunged towards the canine, who, for all its stupidity and awfulness, was surprisingly nimble.

He dodged, causing her to land on all fours, but she wasn't done just yet. She lunged again, but the stupid four-legged animal swerved, and she barely managed to miss as she went past once again.

"Give me my book back! Stop using it as a chew toy!" Blake seethed, ignoring the bizarre gazes of her teammates on her back.

The stupid mutt tilted its head, dropping the book.

Her eyes narrowed. That was... awfully suspicious.

"Aww, look, he dropped your book!" Ruby cooed, looking up at her with her innocent, wide eyes, "Isn't he just the best? Won't you forgive him now?"

Blake kept her eyes narrowed, senses up. This was unprecedented territory, and she had to tread carefully.

Her expression must have given something away, because Ruby folded her arms and pouted at her.

And that was when the abomination made its move.

He leapt onto her, slobbering her with spit.

Her eyes widened in horror. He was attacking her with chemical warfare! What horrible effects could result from this!? She didn't want to know.

She fought fiercely to get the stupid canine off her, kicking and shoving, but to no avail. It kept slobbering its disgusting spit all over her.

The canine proceeded to chomp down on her wrist, and Blake only had a moment to blink before he began running out the door.

"NOO-"

The door closed.

"She'll probably be fine, right?"

"Probably."

Blake cursed, stumbling onto the floor of the room.

"That exam was awful..." she groaned, elegantly faceplanting in the middle of the room.

Who said cats always landed on their feet? Blake stood up for faunus equality, and that included going against stereotypes, like assuming cats always landed on their feet. So she faceplanted, all on purpose, and not at all because she had a combat exam followed by Port's Grimm studies exam, followed by Oobleck's history exam.

Some might say that was oddly specific, but there was absolutely nothing odd about it. Nothing.

No one was there, anyway.

Or, at least she thought. Until she was greeted with a bark.

"Go away stupid mutt."

She opened her amber eyes to see the mutt smugly strutting about, in front of her, as if he were taunting her. But she was too tired to do anything about it. At least he wasn't using her as a chewtoy this time.

It began licking her, and she was simply too tired to even resist.

"No, this isn't a game... dumb dog," she grumbled. He began nudging her with his nose, but she ignored him.

Until the mutt scooted into her, snuggling against her side and licking the bottom of her chin.

"Ugh. I didn't ask for this, these are illegal snuggles."

The dog refused to let up, though, and he wouldn't leave, only shifting his furry body closer to hers, and he wiggled under her arm, barking softly.

"Fine, I guess..." she relented, to the soft barks of the stupid dog.

"If you tell anyone about this... I will shave your butt."

A soft, sad whine was his answer, but he affectionately licked her all the same, even if she still cringed at the slobbering.

It might have been blasphemy to her feline heritage, but maybe, just maybe... dogs weren't so bad after all.

#rwby #cute #blake belladonna #zwei #weiss schnee

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