RWBY NOT! [RWBY ISEKAI FIC]

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COMMENTS:

dreammag[questionablequesting]:So... What room they are in? Surely its not a sex room. Beacon could not possibly, legally, technically include sex room for every team. Right? RIGHT?

AVIP: It's a Leader room, buuuut... in an institution where all the teams are made up of healthy, super-fit young people... I guess it's a sex room.

pingas plight[questionablequesting]: Ah yes, the most stable team ever

-Literal dead man walking

-Teddy bull

-"It's not a phase, dad!" but it wasn't a lie

-Only about a third of the way on the redemption arc

Peak

AVIP: It's a Leader room, buuuut... in an institution where all the teams are made up of healthy, super-fit young people... I guess it's a sex room.

---

"Soooo…" Starts Adam looking at Emerald. "Do you want to be friends?"

"Talk to me again and I'll cut you." Snaps Emerald.

"Sorry." Says Adam looking down.


I get up, picking up Bleiss just to throw her on the bed.

Bleiss's laughter rings out, wild, unhinged, hungry, as she bounces on my bed, black boots kicking up the sheets.

"Fucking finally," she purrs, sprawling out like a cat in the sun, arching her back to reveal a flat stomach adorned with a belly button piercing.

"You have a piercing?" I ask, surprised.

"Keep looking," she purrs, a wicked grin curling her lips, "and maybe you'll find another little fucker."

I yank my shirt over my head, next my fingers pausing at the waistband of my black jeans, halted by the dangerously captivating sight waiting on my bed.

Bleiss is undeniably beautiful. Her porcelain skin is so pale it's nearly translucent, thrown into sharp relief by the black choker at her throat. Her hair is darker than the void between stars, it spills out like ink, framing a face that looks stolen from a painter's fever dream. High cheekbones, a jawline sharp as a blade, and lips painted the deepest, most dangerous black.

Her leather corset hugs her like a second skin, black straps biting into every curve. Even with Bleiss's petite Schnee frame, those curves make a man's blood pound and his cock throb with need.

And those eyes, dear God, those fucking eyes. Not some weak rust-crimson or the cheap pink of swill, but the raw, slick of a fresh, bleeding wound. They bore into me, and I can feel my blood pounding, my body aching in ways I shouldn't admit.

She catches me staring. A slow, knowing smirk curls her lips.

"See something you like, my fierce stallion?"

My throat's dry. I swallow, but it's like trying to drink sand.

"Stallion?" I repeat confused

"Mmm." She props herself up on her elbows, lifting her torso, black strands falling across her face. Her bright red eyes never leave me. "You're Vale's Dark Horse, aren't you?"

I scoff, waving dismissively.

"Fame's got its perks, sure. But right now…" My voice drops, rough and raw. "You're the only thing in this damn world worth even a second glance."

Bleiss moans in delight as her fingers hover over her belt buckle, nails black as sin, sharp as blades.

SNAP!

The belt twitches, not like fabric or leather, but like something alive.

My breath catches as the damn thing expands, coiling outward, thickening into something sleek and deadly. The black metal gleams under the dorm lights, reflecting Bleiss's mad grin as she peels it free from her waist.

That thing it's not a belt anymore, its that fucking whip she used on me.

On Bleiss hands the whip hisses as its arches.

I don't even flinch. Not because I'm brave, but because my brain's still stuck on the way her fingers caressed that fucking thing like it was a lover's skin.

CRACK!

The metal coils lash out, not to cut, not to sting, but to wrap, tight around my throat. My pulse kicks against it, heat flaring where the cold black metal touches my skin.

With a victory smile, Bleiss yanks it.

The world tilts. My back hits the mattress with a grunt, the impact knocking the air from my lungs. The whip's still around my neck.

The crazy goth doesn't let go.

Instead, she straddles me, knees digging into the bed on either side of my hips, her corset creaking with the shift. Her thighs clamp around mine, heat bleeding through the fabric of my jeans, and I can feel her body, soft where it counts, sharp where it hurts.

She grins in delight.

"Mmm, now, my stallion," she purrs, fingers crawling along the whip as it winds around my throat. "It's time to break you in… and I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of it."

My fingers scramble at the whip coiled around my throat, nails digging into the cold, unyielding metal. But the thing doesn't budge, just tightens a fraction, like it's alive and enjoying this.

"Hell… no…" I grind out, voice raw.

"Oh, yes…" Bleiss tilts her head, that mad grin stretching wider, eyes glittering with something insane. "My pretty little beast… you're mine now."

"Hey," I grunt, voice strained. "Is this thing… expensive?"

She stares at me like I've grown a second head. Then that wild laugh bubbles up again, rich and dark as black coffee.

"Eisendorn?" She strokes the whip's length, almost tender. "It's priceless. He is a mesh of strands of Dust conduit metal, forged in the deepest mines of Atlas. But my asshole of a family can afford it."

I grin. Blood's pounding, but I don't stop pulling.

"Good," I wheeze. " I won't feel bad if I break it."

The metal starts to loosen as it groans under my fingers.

Bleiss's smirk falters.

"It's not possible!" she snaps. "You can't possibly-."

The whip creaks, and I feel give way. Just a fraction. Just enough for me to wedge my fingers underneath to pry the damn thing loose enough to pass through my head.

"RAAAAGH!" I roar, tearing the coil apart like I'm ripping a beast's jaws off my neck.

The whip snaps free.

I gasp, lungs burning, and I laugh triumphantly. Bleiss's eyes are wide, her lips parted, like she's seeing a ghost.

"Told you," I pant, dangling the severed length of Eisendorn between us.

Her shock lasts half a second. Then that grin returns, sharper than before.

"Oh, you adorable thing," she purrs, fingers tightening around the whip's handle, her grin sharp and hungry.

I don't have time to ask what the hell she means.

Her thumb presses a button on the whip handle.

A crackle fills the air, like lightning trapped in metal. My skin prickles, hairs standing on end, and then-.

ZAP!

The world explodes in white-hot pain.

Every muscle in my body locks. My back arches off the bed, teeth clenched so hard I taste blood. The whip's still in my grip like it's a live wire, a fucking storm coursing through my veins. My vision swims, edges bleeding black, and all I can hear is Bleiss's laughter, sweet and poisonous, ringing in my ears.

"Surprise, babe," she croons, leaning in so close I can feel her heat, her breath scorching my cheek. "Eisendorn doesn't just bind… he bites."

The current frying my nerves feels like someone's flaying me alive with a cheese grater. My teeth are clenched so tight my jaw could snap. Sweat's pouring down my face, stinging my eyes, but I don't blink. Don't dare.

Because of pain? No… pain's just an old acquaintance.

I've been beaten, broken, burned. I've had bones snap and organs split and still crawled back up. I've stared down death so many times it's started waving the bitch back.

So this? This electric hell? It's nothing. Hell, it's neither the first nor the worst electrocution I've felt in the last year.

Bleiss's eyes go wide as I lift my hand, reaching out to wrap it around her throat.

She cut the power before I touch her, just as I felt her pulse jumps under my palm, fast and frantic. I can feel her swallow.

"W-what the-?" she chokes out, but I cut her off.

"Pain," I grind out, voice raw, grin stretching wider than it should. "Hate the fucking thing. But it doesn't scare me."

Her breath hitches. I squeeze, just enough to make her gasp, just enough to remind her who's in charge now.

Then I yank it.

The whip screeches in protest, like a living thing being torn from its master. Bleiss's fingers scrabble at my wrist, nails digging in, but I don't let go. I rip Eisendorn from her grip and hurl it across the room.

It clatters against the far wall, coils twitching like a dying snake as the room falls into tense silence.

I stare at the mad yandere but to my surprise Bleiss laughs, shattering the silence like glass.

It's not the wild, mocking cackle from before. Her shoulders shake, her whole body trembling like she's fighting something. I just stare, waiting for the punchline, the next move, the next fucking crazy game of hers.

But then… a hitch in her breath.

Her laughter cracks, and then she starts to cry.

Not the pretty, dramatic kind. Not the kind you see in movies where the girl's mascara runs in perfect little streaks. This is ugly, face twisting cry. Her breath coming in ragged gasps, her fingers clawing at her own thighs like she's trying to dig herself out of her skin.

"S-sorry," she chokes out, voice wrecked. "S-sorry, sorry, fuck, I don't-."

I blink confused then I exhale through my nose, slowly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" My voice comes out colder than I mean it to. Not angry, just tired.

She flinches like I slapped her.

"I-I don't know, okay?!" Her voice spikes, then shatters, cracking under its own weight. "I just-. You make me fell so intense, and you-. I thought-." She swallows, hard. "Fuck. I thought if I could j-just make you mine-."

"Make me yours?" I cut in, but she just shakes her head, black hair whipping.

"I don't know!" she snaps, tears carving tracks down her cheeks. "Break you… own you… something, anything! I just…" Her chest heaves, each ragged breath tearing at her. "Gods, what's wrong with me? Why can't I-" Her voice crumbles into a choked, broken sob.

She cuts off, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes like she can scrub the tears away.

I stare at her. Really look at her.

Not the leather, not the black lipstick, not the sneer she wears like armor. But the way her shoulders are hunched, the way her fingers are shaking, the way she's trying to hide it and failing.

Something in my chest twists. I exhale, rough, and reach out.

I reach to her, she flinches when my hand lands on her shoulder.

I ignore her resistance and give a sharp tug, pulling her against me, her face buries in my chest. Her body stays tense, braced as if she might still fight, but I just wrap my arms around her and hold on.

The mattress groans under our weight as I fall back, Bleiss crashing against my chest. She's stiff as a board, every muscle locked like she's waiting for a trap to snap shut. But I don't let go.

I just exhale, slow, and start running my fingers through her hair.

It's softer than it looks. Black as oil, but silky under my calloused palms. I trace my fingers through the strands, untangling the knots with care.

At first she doesn't move, doesn't even breathe, just waits.

Then, suddenly, a shudder runs through her. Her shoulders hunch, and for a heartbeat I think she's about to bolt. But instead, she melts on me.

Not all at once, but bit by bit, like ice cream giving way to heat. Her forehead stays pressed to my chest, but the death grip on my sides eases. Her breath stutters, then steadies, warm against my skin.

I keep stroking. Not talking, not pushing. Just being here for her.

Minutes tick by. The dorm's quiet except for the distant hum of the campus outside. Bleiss's fingers curl into my sides, not clawing anymore, just holding on. Like I'm the only thing keeping her from floating away.

"You're a mess," I murmur, voice rough.

"Ha!" She snorts, wet and broken, against my chest. "Takes one to know one."

"Fair."

I don't argue. Just keep combing my fingers through her hair, tracing the shell of her ear, the sharp line of her jaw. She shivers when I brush the pad of my thumb over the tear tracks on her cheeks, but she doesn't pull away.

"Talk to me," I say.

"About what?" She asks going rigid again.

"Anything. "

"You really wanna hear it?" She question, holding a bitter laugh.

"I really do."

She keeps quiet for a time, so long I think she's not gonna share. But after a few seconds she slowly rises and starts to talk.

"My family's perfect," she spits, like the words taste like ash. "Weiss is the golden child with the pristine voice. Winter's the heir, made in the molds of my hag of a mother. Dear Whitley's is their precious baby boy." Her fingers digs into my sides. "And then there's me…"

I nod, encouraging her to keep talking.

"The spare Schnee, the fuck-up, the black sheep, the one who refuses to play by the rules, who goes to metal concerts, devours junk food, laughs too loud, and has been used and taken advantage of countless times just to get to my mother or sisters…"

Bleiss's voice cracks like thin ice underfoot. My fingers keep combing, still in her hair.

I tilt her chin up, forcing those blood-red eyes to meet mine. No smirk, no game. Just the raw, ugly truth hanging between us like a blade.

"I get it," I say, low, teeth grinding. "You're used to being the screw-up, the one everyone pretends doesn't exist. But that sure as hell doesn't explain why you just tried to choke me and fry my brain like a goddamn chicken wings."

Her breath hitches. For a second, her gaze darts away, but I don't let her look off. I squeeze her chin, just enough to keep her locked on me.

"I-I wasn't trying to hurt you," she stammers, fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt. "I just-.I saw how you fought. How you moved. Like you were born wild, untamed. And I thought if I could j-just make you submit, even for a second, then you'd stay with me."

My grip tightens. Not in anger, just realization.

"Submit?" I repeat, flat.

She swallows, throat bobbing under my thumb.

"Y-yeah." Her voice drops to a whisper. "Like h-how I saw my mother do to my father, on a few occasions."

The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the sternum. My jaw drops.

"What did your mother do to your father?" I ask, eyes wide.

"I didn't have candles on me, so… that's why I electrocuted you when you misbehaved."

I can't believe it… Willow Schnee. The woman I remember from the original show, a hollow-eyed alcoholic, the ghost haunting the Schnee manor, is dominatrix?

Bleiss's lips twist, bitter.

"Surprised?" she spits, but there's no heat in it. Just exhaustion. "Yeah, me too. The first time I walked in on them, I was twelve…" She says dryly remembering some buried memories. "Turns out that Jacques Schnee likes it when his wife ties him up, burns him with candle wax and shoves a big black dildo-."

"Enough!" I shout as my stomach lurches.

Bleiss winces and looks down.

"Sorry." She whimpers, avoiding my gaze.

"Shh," I murmur as I press a finger on her black lips, silencing the storm before it starts.

I lean in, close enough that my breath touches over her cheek.

"Listen to me," I say, low and rough. "I like you, Bleiss. The real you. Not the act, not the whip, not the crazy girl who tries to electrocute people into submission." My thumb brushes her bottom lip, just once. "The one who's terrified no one's ever gonna stick around."

Her breath catches. Those red eyes flicker, like embers in the dark.

"So here's the deal," I continue, voice steady. "We can do this. Dating, or whatever the hell you wanna call it. But you gotta stop trying to break me in, okay? I'm not your simp, like your dad with your mom. I'm not your fucking punching bag. And I sure as hell ain't gonna let you treat me like one."

Bleiss stills, but she relents and nods.

I keep my finger pressed to her lips, feeling the ghost of a smile against my skin.

"I'm going to sleep now," I say, voice rough but firm. "You can sleep with me and we can cuddle. Nothing else."

Her cheeks puff out, eyes narrowing into slits. A muffled mouth vibrates against my fingertip, but I don't budge.

"Don't like it?" I raise an eyebrow. "Fine, you can sleep in your own bed with Adam and Emerald."

Bleiss's entire body locks up. Her face twists like she just bit into something rotten.

"Ew," she chokes out, shuddering so hard.

"Then behave." I smirk.

She glares, but after a second, she nods, sharp and reluctant. Her breath huffs against my finger, warm and annoyed, but she doesn't fight it.

"Good." I exhale, tired.

So tired I don't notice Bleiss's face light up with an idea, a sly smirk spreading as she hatches something.

My finger jerks against her lips as Bleiss's tongue flicks out, hot and wet, tracing the pad of my fingertip.

I freeze.

One second, I'm lecturing her, laying down the law, and the next… her mouth is there, lips parting, breath warm as she swallows my finger past her teeth.

My cock twitches angrily in my jeans. It's like it knows I'm blocking him because of common sense.

Bleiss's eyes gleam, red and wicked, locked onto mine as her tongue curls around my finger, slow and deliberate. She doesn't just suck, she works it, lips sealing tight, cheeks hollowing as she pulls back just enough to let her teeth graze the sensitive skin.

A shudder runs down my spine.

I should stop her. I should. But my body's got other ideas, heat pooling low in my gut, my pulse hammering in my ears.

"Hmmmm," Bleiss moans, the sound vibrating around my finger, and her free hand slides up my chest, nails scraping through the hair there before her palm flattens over my pec. She squeezes, just shy of painful, like she's testing how much I'll take.

I grit my teeth.

"Bleiss," I growl, but it comes out rough, more warning than protest.

She smirks around my finger, lashes fluttering as she pulls back just enough to let the tip pop free from her lips with a wet sound.

"Mmm?" she purrs, voice thick.

"Fuck it!" I mutter frustrade. "I'm gonna take a cold shower."

"Noooooooooo…"

---

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[#] I hope you enjoyed this new serialization, if you are interested, my Ko-Fi[avipbr] subscriber has access up these chapters posted there:

Chapter 07 - Kill all Grimm

Chapter 08 - Not a criminal

Chapter 09 - What happened to Qrow?

Chapter 10 - Vale's greatest protectors

Chapter 11 - Jaune has Rizz

[#] You can reach me on X/twitter, @AvipBr

[#] On youtube @hogfell made a 4 hour audiobook of 'Anthrostate VS Isekai Hero'.

[#] You can join my discord server:discord.gg/52MmzuEQhR

[#] As always, Ko-fi subscribers have access to 5 chapters ahead, plans start at 1 dollar.

COMMENTS:

fictionelement777[fanfiction]:Was expecting lemony goodness, instead we have deep underlying issues. This'll be fun.
Avip:Hehe, glad you liked it.

Yetti_Etti[archiveofourown]:I call bulls*it on your character being able to remember the complete storyline, all characters, and the fan made characters of a series after 17 years. If I were to ask you to tell me about a specific show you haven't watched in 17 years, I doubt you could.
Avip:I'd argue with you... if I weren't busy sobbing on the floor in the fetal position, screaming: "17 YEARS! OMG, I'M SO OLD!"

---

It's still dark when I snap open my eyes before the alarm.

My free arm shoots out, fingers groping for the Scroll on the nightstand. The screen glows faintly under my touch, the alarm icon blinking. I tap it dead before it can scream.

"Five minutes before 05:00 am." I whisper with a smile. "Like clockwork."

Bleiss is holding my arm against my side, her breath warm and slow against my bicep. One arm's pinned under her, fingers numb from the pressure, but I don't move yet.

Moonlight spills through the curtains, bathing her face in silver. With my free hand, I push a strand of black hair aside, letting the back of my hand brush against her cheek. Her lips are slightly parted, just enough to show the edge of her teeth.

She looks so…

"Whoa," I whisper.

She doesn't look like the girl who tried to electrocute me yesterday, not like the Schnee with her black-metal whip and fiery temper. Just a beautiful girl, holding onto me as if I'm the only thing keeping her from sinking.

But as much as it hurts to leave her alone on the bed, I need to start my day.

I exhale through my nose and start the extraction.

First, I twist my wrist, loosening her grip just a fraction. Her fingers twitch, nails digging in before relaxing again.

'Good.' I think in silence. 'Keep sleeping my cute psycho yandere.'

Then I slide my arm out slowly, inch by inch, until her palm rests on the mattress instead of my skin.

To my surprise she whimpers. Her voice is a tiny, broken sound, like a puppy kicked in the dark.

"Nn-. don't leave me…" Her voice cracks, throaty and raw, and her body jerks, reaching blindly for where I was. Her fingers claw at the sheets, knuckles white.

My gut twists, I almost give in. Almost pull her back, let her rest on my arm until sunrise… but I need to train.

I swallow hard and force myself out of bed.

The floorboards creak under my weight. I freeze, holding my breath, but Bleiss doesn't stir. She's curled in on herself now.

I quickly strap on my gravity dust bands, black straps tightening around my wrists, ankles, and torso. A faint purple glow sparks to life as the dust activates, the weight settling in, familiar, grounding.

I yank a faded black tank over my head, the fabric clinging to the dust bands. My shorts are next, loose and worn, the hem frayed from too many sparring sessions. Sneakers last, beat-up, scuffed, but still holding together.

Bleiss stirs behind me, murmuring something incoherent. I pause, half-crouched, but she doesn't wake. Just rolls onto her side, one hand splayed across the empty space where I slept.

I exhale through my nose and stand.

"Man..." I whisper. "Gonna miss getting ready for training without a care in the world."

The door clicks shut behind me as I leave my bedroom. I turn and freeze.

Emerald's sprawled face-up on her mattress, arms clenching a pillow over her head, like she's trying to suffocate herself.

"The hell?"

My eyes flick past her and I freeze again.

"Wait… wasn't there another bed here?" I whisper, frowning.

Apparently, Adam had pushed his bed together with the one that should've been Bleiss's. But that isn't what makes me stop.

Someone is lying beside him, head resting against the bull faunus's chest. Long black hair spills across the pillow, and the pair of cat ears perched on top leave no doubt of who that is.

"So… Blake and Adam are still a thing?" I whisper under my breath. "Neat."

Shaking my head I walk towards the door to finally start my grind.

As soon as I leave the room I mutter.

"Let's see what Beacon has for a gym."


I'm not satisfied with Beacon's gym.

"Holy shit." I mutter, eyes wide.

I'm fucking losing it, grinning like a maniac, my mind completely blown.

"If this place were a church, the holy trinity would be Arnold Schwarzenegger, Terry Crews, and The Rock."

I take one step as my neck cranks up, eyes darting like a kid in a candy store.

There're ten omni adaptive treadmills, each one a sleek black beast with holographic displays flickering above the belts. The belts can shift, tilt, and warp, mimicking terrain from mountain slopes to crumbling ruins.

Next to it, a cluster of aura-resonance platforms pulse with soft blue light, floating inches off the ground. Perfect for training fighters specialized in Aura usage like Ren in the first season.

A sharp hiss drags my gaze left.

Those are thermo-hazard chambers, glass-walled cubes where in addition to temperature can be set between subzero and volcanic. But its not just temperature, things like atmospheric pressure, air humidity, winds and many other weather hazards can be simulated.

My fingers twitch as I force myself to keep moving.

A shifting climbing wall looms ahead, a monstrous grid of handholds and footholds that reconfigure every few seconds. No pattern, no mercy.

"Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me." I curse noticing the projectile gauntlet rooms.

A sealed-off shooting range, but not for guns, for people. Targets whip past at insane speeds, dodging, weaving, firing back. In those rooms you can choose the type and speed of projectiles fired at them.

"I'm going to need a lot of hours in those to learn how to dodge better." I mutter with a smile. "I can't tank everything now that I'm in Beacon."

Thinking nothing in this gym would surprise me anymore, I see something that makes my jaw drop.

"No way! Are those aura-leech bands?" I ask no one as I approach the Bands on display in reinforced bulletproof glass cases.

As I approach them, a red holographic warning projects in front of me.


"Each one of these bad boys could buy a twenty-story building at Vale's commercial district." I laugh in disbelief.

I press a palm against the glass, half-expecting some high-tech security to scream at me. Nothing. Just my breath fogging the surface for a second before the climate control swallows it.

This isn't just equipment. It's a statement. A middle finger to the rest of the world, wrapped in Beacon's signature polished metal and good intentions.

"Excuse me." A deep voice rumbles behind me. "Could you step aside?"

I blink,turning to the voice source. The guy looks like a walking siege engine: broad shoulders, thick arms corded with muscle, and a stance that screams I could bench-press a Bullhead. He's easily over 2.1 meters (7'0"), maybe taller, every inch of him looks carved from granite.

I step aside as he picks up two leech bands. The black metal snaps shut with a quiet click, a holographic warning flickering over his skin for a heartbeat before vanishing.

I don't even realize I'm staring until he looks up.

"Yatsuhashi Daichi," he says, nodding in greeting.

His voice is steady, no-nonsense. The kind of guy who doesn't waste words.

"Ash Williams." I say with a nod.

He tilts his head, just slightly, like he's filing the name away.

"Good to see someone else here this early." His lips quirk. Not quite a smile, but close. "Most students don't show up until after breakfast. Even the upperclassmen."

"Yeah, well." I snort. "I've got a lot to prove, and my Semblance is not really combat oriented."

Yatsuhashi exhales through his nose, a quiet, almost amused sound. His dark eyes flick over me, assessing, before he nods like I just passed some unspoken test.

"Same." His voice is low, rough-edged. "My Semblance isn't built for fighting either."

He rolls his shoulders like the weight of it is nothing. But I see it, the way his fingers flex, the way his jaw tightens for half a second. Pride or maybe frustration.

"Guess that's why you're here before the sun's up too, huh?" He tilts his head, just slightly. "Grinding like your life depends on it."

"Yeah, well." I bark out a laugh. "It kinda does."

No pity in his gaze. No bullshit. Just a slow, almost imperceptible curve of his lips, like he gets it. Like he's been there.

Then, without warning, he extends his hand.

Not a limp-wristed polite gesture. Not some half-assed nod. His palm is calloused, fingers slightly spread, demanding a real grip.

I don't hesitate.

Our hands clash, knuckles to knuckles, fingers locking like we're sealing a pact. His grip is iron, but I squeeze back harder, grinding my teeth. A real bro power handshake.

He tries to pull me in, like a test or a challenge.

I grin as I stand my ground and try to pull him.

We are at an impasse, his eyes flicker with amusement, before he lets go with a sharp nod.

"Good." He says.

Then he turns, striding toward a corner and sits down, closing his eyes and beginning to meditate.

"Cool, focused and quiet." I mutter under my breath, cracking my knuckles. "Wish he was on my team."

Sighing heavily as I remember the headache team I lead, I decide to focus on my workout.


The barbell groans under ten thousand kilos of magnet enhanced weights, my legs burning like hell as I drive up from the squat. Sweat stings my eyes, but I lock my arms, teeth clenched tight.

"Fucking… finally…" I hiss, slamming the bar back into the rack.

The clatter reverberates through the empty gym. Quads screaming, lower back screaming louder, but I don't care, pain is proof I'm alive.

A slow, impressed whistle cuts through the gym's silence.

"Damn. Vale's Dark Horse isn't just a pretty face and dirty tricks, huh?"

I glance over, catching her leaning against a weight rack, arms crossed, one brow raised. Long blond hair, sharp lilac eyes, a grin that's all teeth. Her confidence is carved from steel.

I yank my towel from the rack, snapping it against my neck, the sting sharp and grounding.

"And you, Yang Xiao Long," I say, tossing the damp cloth over my shoulder. "As magnificent as described on the third stall from the left in the men's bathroom, if I remember right."

Yang's grin falters. Her golden eyes narrow, lips pressing into a thin line.

I don't blink. Just stare right back, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch like a drawn blade between us.

But that doesn't last long as we both snort as Yang bursts first, throwing her head back with a loud, barking laugh. The sound bounces off the gym walls, rich and unfiltered.

I lose it next, doubling over, hands on my knees.

"Oh, fuck-." She says, words coming out wheezing. "Are you for real, Ash?"

"Nah." I wave a hand dismissing her question. "Just some bullshit I pulled out of my ass."

Yang wipes at her eyes, still chuckling as she straightens up.

"Seriously though," she says, rolling her shoulders like she's shaking off the last of her laughter. "It's Good to see you Ash."

I smirk, grabbing my water bottle.

"It's good to see you too, Yang," I say, snapping the cap shut with a click. "Especially outside an official fight."

"That reminds me," Yang says, cracking her knuckles.

Without warning, she drives a fist straight into my gut.

POW!

"Whyyy?" I wheeze, doubling over.

"That's for what you did to my hair in our last match," she says with a playfully threatening smile.

"It was washable ink!" I groan through the pain.

"Don't. Fuck. With. My. Hair." She says looking at me coldly, cracking her knuckles again.

I straighten up, wincing as my abs scream in protest, and raise my hands in surrender.

"Alright, alright," I say, breath still ragged. "I'm sorry, Yang. Won't happen again."

She beams, victorious, and pats my shoulder hard enough to knock me off balance.

"Good boy," she says, grinning. "And before I forget, you should stay the fuck away from Ruby."

I rub the back of my neck, smirking.

"Damn, you're a protective sister."

Yang barks out a laugh, sharp and sarcastic.

"Oh, no," she says, shaking her head. "I'm protecting you from that silver-eyed psychopath."

I blink as Yang leans in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You saw what she did to Cardin, right? One hit and Boom! Aura shattered like Winchester's fragile ego. And that was her holding back."

I exhale, rubbing my jaw.

"Yeah, I noticed she didn't break a sweat."

"She has been crazy focused in combat since both of our mothers died."

"Wait…" I say, surprised. "Both your moms are dead?"

Yang blinks, thrown off by the question.

"Most people get stuck on the two moms part, not the dead part."

I stutter, leaning back against the weight bench, trying to play it cool.

"I-I me-mean, I'm all for polylove, he-he." I say with a cring ass fake laugh. "But both moms, and both dead? That's… a lot."

Yang's grin fades, her golden eyes dimming like embers losing heat. She picks at the tape on her knuckles, peeling it back just to press it down again.

"Dad did his best, and I assure you that was a lot," she says, voice rougher now. " He never let us want for anything, was always there when we needed. But Ruby…" A sharp exhale. "She was so young, Ash..."

My chest tightens as Yang's face shows a vulnerable side of her I have never seen before.

Yang's fingers flex, like she's gripping something invisible.

"She stood there in the rain, this tiny little thing, crying and screaming at the sky that it wasn't fair. And then-." her voice cracks, the words catching in her throat. She forces herself to go on. "That night, when no one was watching, she broke a shard off Summer Rose's tombstone… and carved into her own flesh: 'Kill all Grimm'."

'Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me,' I think holding my breath. 'Ruby Rose isn't just some prodigy with a scythe, she's Batman with the power of an edgy anime protagonist.'

"That girl needs some friends, A.S.A.P." I blurt without thinking.

Yang's eyes lock onto me, sharp as blades.

"Damn, Ash," she exhales, rubbing her temples like I just gave her a migraine. "That's… harsh. But you're not wrong."

She slumps against the weight rack, arms crossed, her usual fire dampened.

"But nobody wants to get close to her, let alone be her friend," she mutters. "People either fear her or write her off as some kind of powerful freak. And Ruby? She's too damn stubborn to give a damn about other people she deems weak."

I wince, shifting my weight.

"Yeah, well," I say, shrugging. "Kid's got a scythe the size of a small car, a death glare that could melt steel, and combat prowess to rival professional Hunstmen. Not exactly approachable."

Yang's head snaps up as I take a long swing of my water bottle. A wicked grin splits her face, slow and dangerous, like some sort of crazy idea popped on her mind.

"Sooo," she drawls, pushing off the rack. "Can you be her friend?"

I choke and spit my water.

"Pff! The fuck?" I bark out a laugh, nearly spitting my water. "Hell no. Two seconds ago, you were warning me to stay the fuck away from her!"

Yang waves a hand, dismissive.

"Dont live in past my dude," she says, smirking. "Besides, maybe her crazy reaction to you is a sign she's finally getting interested in boys."

My stomach drops.

"Oh no."

"And let's be real," she goes on, eyes dragging up and down my frame with way too much interest. "Seeing you shirtless and pantsless might've just kickstarted her puberty."

"For fuck's sake, Yang." I gag.

She bursts out laughing, doubling over and slapping her knee like it's the funniest shit in the world.

"Please Yang, just stop."

"Why?" she wheezes, snorting through her tears. "Come on, Ash, I might play for the other team, but even I can see you've got a body worth wrecking. And Ruby's fifteen, hormones are a bitch."

"Don't pimp me out to your sister," I groan, dragging a hand down my face. "I've already got my hands full with Bleiss."

"Oh yeah…" she mutters. "First day, and you've got the Schnee slut wrapped around your finger. Good for you buddy."

The gym narrows to a pinprick, nothing left but me, Yang, and the sharp crack of my knuckles as my blood boils.

"You get one for free," I say, voice low, each word a nail driven in as Yang's eyes widen. "But if you ever call her that again-."

Yang's cut me, hands shoot up, palms out.

"Whoa, whoa! Shit, Ash," she backpedals, eyes wide. "I'm sorry. Just repeating what I heard, damm!"

I exhale hard through my nose, jaw tight enough to crack. The rage doesn't vanish, but I chain it down.

"Yeah," I spit. "Well, just don't."

"Okay, okay," Yang says quickly, her tone cautious. "Chill, man."

I rub the back of my neck, forcing my shoulders to drop.

"Sorry," I mutter. "But Bleiss… she's not what people think."

Yang tilts her head, studying me like I'm a half-finished puzzle.

"So she's not out there stacking bodies like a starving ursa major?"

I snort, bone-dry.

"She's a virgin."

Yang chokes. Her face twists in shock, then a bark of disbelieving laughter.

"No way," she wheezes. "She's a hot goth and a pure maiden? That's some straight-up anime love interest bullshit."

I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, well… maybe not that pure," I admit, remembering last night. "She choked me and electrocuted me last night."

"Damn… the goth Schnee likes it rough," Yang breathes, genuinely surprised. "Her sister on my team could use a little of that freak streak."

The corner of my mouth twitches as I hold a smirk.

"Speaking of sisters," I say, grabbing my towel and slinging it over my shoulder, "Weiss giving you trouble?"

Yang snorts, rolling her eyes so hard I swear I heard a click.

"That girl's got a stick so long, so far up her ass she could use it as a lance," she groans, stretching her arms overhead.

I raise a brow.

"That bad, huh?"

Yang exhales, shaking out her limbs like she's trying to shake off the thought.

"Nah, it's not bad," she says, waving a hand. "Just… exhausting. That girl has more rules than a prison warden."

She cracks her neck, then grins at me, sharp and sudden.

"Anyway," she says, already backing toward the gym doors. "Gotta hit the weights before class. We'll talk more later, yeah?"

I nod, fist bumping her.

"Good luck with the Ice Queen, goldie locks."

Yang flips me off, laughing as she leaves.

The second I step out of the gym, every ache, every burn in my muscles disappears, like it was never there. I flex my arms, roll my shoulders, testing the limits.

No soreness. No strain. Just smooth, effortless movement, like I'd been lounging all day instead of squatting a goddamn building.

'My Semblance might not be great for direct combat,' I think with a smirk, 'But I could train all day thanks to it.'

I smirk proudly as I walk to get ready for the day.

---

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[#] I hope you enjoyed this new serialization, if you are interested, my Ko-Fi[avipbr] subscriber has access up these chapters posted there:

Chapter 08 - Not a criminal

Chapter 09 - What happened to Qrow?

Chapter 10 - Vale's greatest protectors

Chapter 11 - Jaune has Rizz

Chapter 12 - Even Weiss?

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