[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[AndrewJTalon]

The nightmare hit around 2:17 a.m.

Mia suddenly sat bolt upright in Jaune's bunk, a terrified scream tearing from her throat. Her little body shook violently as she sobbed, "The wolf! The wolf's got me-!"

Jaune was already moving, swinging his legs out of bed, but Pyrrha's hand shot out and caught his wrist.

"Jaune," she whispered, voice gentle but firm. "You need rest. You've barely slept all week. Let me take her."

He hesitated, eyes full of worry and exhaustion. Pyrrha gave him a small, reassuring smile and scooped Mia into her arms. The little girl immediately buried her face in Pyrrha's shoulder, still crying softly.

"I've got her," Pyrrha murmured. "Go back to sleep."

Jaune watched them go, jaw tight, before finally lying back down.

- - -

The RWBY dorm was still awake when Pyrrha gently knocked and slipped inside. All four girls were up - Ruby and Yang on one bed, Weiss and Blake on the other - clearly unable to sleep either.

Pyrrha explained quietly what had happened. Without a word, Yang got up and started making hot cocoa while Ruby fetched extra blankets.

A few minutes later, Mia was sitting in the middle of Yang's bed, wrapped in a big fluffy blanket and sipping warm cocoa from a mug that was almost too big for her hands. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but she had stopped crying.

Ruby sat beside her, stirring her own cocoa. "I… get nightmares too sometimes," she admitted quietly.

Mia looked up at her. "About what?"

Ruby hesitated, glancing at Yang.

Yang sighed and took over, voice unusually soft. "When we were really little… I took Ruby out in a wagon one night. I wanted to find our mom. We ended up in the woods and found this old shack. Grimm attacked us. Uncle Qrow showed up just in time, but… I've blamed myself ever since."

Ruby shook her head firmly. "You shouldn't, Yang. I never blamed you."

Mia stared at them both with big, serious eyes. Then she crawled across the bed and gave Yang a tight hug, then turned and hugged Ruby just as fiercely.

"Beowulves are super scary," she said solemnly.

Yang's voice cracked a little. "Yeah. They really are. That's why we got strong. So we can protect ourselves… and people like you."

Mia pulled back and smiled, tired but genuine. "You're all super great."

The girls all smiled at that.

Mia yawned hugely, then crawled back over and climbed into Yang's lap without asking. She rested her head against Yang's chest, clutching her shirt.

"…Mama…" she mumbled sleepily.

The room went completely silent.

Mia's breathing evened out within seconds, fast asleep and still clinging to Yang like a lifeline.

Yang stared down at the tiny girl in her arms, eyes wide.

Pyrrha reached out gently. "She was clearly asking for me."

Yang hissed back, careful not to raise her voice, "She was holding onto me!"

Ruby leaned in. "She could've meant me! I'm the one who brought her here!"

Weiss crossed her arms, whispering sharply, "We're going to wake her! Besides, I am clearly the closest thing she has to a proper surrogate mother!"

Blake snorted softly. "Please. I gave her new grandparents. That counts for something."

Yang glared at all of them, tightening her hold on Mia protectively. "She said 'Mama.' And she's sleeping on me. End of discussion."

Pyrrha's eyes narrowed. "She was calling for me before she even came here."

Weiss's voice rose a fraction. "I've read her bedtime stories twice this week!"

Ruby pouted. "I let her ride on my shoulders yesterday!"

Blake smirked. "I taught her about Faunus history. That's bonding."

The four of them (plus Pyrrha) began whispering furiously at each other, leaning in close over the sleeping child like a very intense, very quiet argument.

Mia slept on, completely oblivious, one tiny hand still fisted in Yang's shirt and a peaceful little smile on her face.

Yang eventually sighed, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway as she gently stroked Mia's hair.

"…She's gonna be the death of all of us," she muttered.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

Ahhh…the double entendres! Yeah, besides you, one would hope your other friend would show solidarity and be on your side…then they join the bandwagon leaving you to drown or be eaten by wolves.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

Mia is going to start a cat fight, naturally Blake should have an advantage (whether she knows that or not is debatable)!

 

[ThunderBasilisk]

And then Jaune says a double entendre that makes the girls pass out

 

[Sliverhero]

@AndrewJTalon

Had a thought for a bit of a fucked up way for cardin to be a single dad as a contrast to jaune being a single dad.
For this he as a son with the white fang member Trifa who at the time he didnt know she was a member as for her its was all aboit the mission.

So she seduced cardin with the aims of taking his family resources to fund the white fang, but she got pregnant. Which changes things for her as now she has to hold back her plans but also a sign for a better plan. This leads to cardin marrying her before their son is born. But she ends up messing up after their son is born and cardin learns the truth which hurts him dearly.

So they fight and she has to flee leaving their son to cardin. So now he has to his son by himself with his parents help.

Before he meets velvet the only good faunus to him is his son.
while at beacon the reason he doesnt bring his son to beacon at the start is because he is paranoid trifa and the white fang would try to steal him. But seeing jaune with Mia changes his tune and decides to bring him to beacon to be closer to him

 

[LordofBones]

Here's a thought regarding those Jaune-with-Pokemon ideas; in keeping with his knight theme, Jaune's pokemon are all dragons or dragon-adjacent. His starter is now a Charizard, he has a Gyarados, a Hydreigon, etc.

It's all the funnier when he comes to Beacon on dragonback.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The week without Jaune had been rough on Mia.

She'd been grumpy, clingy, and asked for "Papa" every few hours. The rest of RWBY and JNPR had stepped up without hesitation — park trips with Ruby, storytime with Blake, gentle combat training with Yang and Nora, quiet reading sessions with Pyrrha, and Weiss's very determined (if mostly unsuccessful) attempts at teaching proper table manners.

By Friday night, everyone was sprawled across the JNPR common room, exhausted but fond, while Mia sat grumpily in Yang's lap, kicking her legs.

The door finally slid open.

Jaune stepped inside: Dirty, sweaty, clothes torn in several places from a week of brutal training with his father... but there was a new, solid confidence in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were broader, his posture straighter… and a short, surprisingly well-kept blond beard covered his jaw.

Mia's ears shot straight up.

"PAPAAAAA!"

She launched herself out of Yang's lap like a rocket and sprinted across the room. Jaune dropped his bag and caught her with a tired but radiant laugh, scooping her up as she buried her face in his neck.

"Hey, kitten," he murmured, hugging her tight and kissing her hair. "Papa missed you so much."

He looked up at the group, grinning despite his exhaustion. "Thanks, guys. Seriously. I know she can be a handful. I'm doing all this training for her, so thank you so much."

Silence.

Dead, heavy, loaded silence.

Every single girl in the room was staring.

Jaune blinked.

"Uh... Guys?"

- - -

Yang's Fantasy

In her mind, the world had shifted to a sunny farmhouse bathed in golden light. She stood on the porch, one hand resting on her very pregnant belly, watching three rowdy blond children sparring in the yard while older Mia patiently corrected their stances.

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind. Bearded Jaune pulled her gently against his chest, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"Missed you today, Firecracker," he murmured, voice low and rough with affection. His beard brushed against the side of her neck as he pressed a slow, lingering kiss there. "Four kids and you're still the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Yang's breath hitched. She leaned back into him, a soft, dopey smile spreading across her face as his hands gently cradled her belly.

"Love you too, Stud," she whispered.

- - -

Weiss's Fantasy

Weiss stood at the grand gates of the Schnee manor, the afternoon sun glinting off the marble. Jaune walked beside her in a tailored black-and-gold security uniform, that glorious beard making him look devastatingly handsome.

The front doors burst open. Five children came running out, Mia proudly leading her youngest sibling by the hand.

"Mom! Dad! You're home!" they shouted in unison.

Jaune chuckled, the sound warm and deep, and slipped an arm around Weiss's waist.

"Long day at the office, princess?" he asked softly, beard brushing her temple as he kissed the side of her head.

Weiss leaned into him, cheeks flushed with quiet happiness. "Much better now."

No board meetings. No cold expectations. Just warmth, laughter, and family.
- - -

Pyrrha's Fantasy

A quiet Argusian manor house overlooked the glittering sea. Two children and Mia played on the beach below, their laughter carried on the wind. Pyrrha stood on the porch, heavily pregnant with their fourth, one hand resting on her rounded belly as she watched them.

Jaune came walking up the path from training, shirt slightly damp with sweat, that short blond beard catching the sunlight. When he reached her, he didn't say a word. He simply smiled that soft, loving smile that belonged only to her, pulled her gently into his arms, and kissed her like he'd been waiting all day for this exact moment.

"I'm home," he whispered against her lips, one hand cradling her belly with reverent care.

Pyrrha melted into him, heart full. "Welcome home, my love."

- - -

Blake's Mind

She was on her knees in a grand, dimly lit study, wrists bound in silk ropes. A powerful noble Huntsman Jaune loomed over her, that incredibly attractive beard making him look dangerously handsome. His gloved hand tilted her chin up.

"Still refusing to talk, little terrorist?" he asked, voice low and commanding.

Blake's breath came faster. Things were just starting to get very interesting when the door suddenly burst open.

"Mommy! Daddy! What are you doing?"

Six children (plus Mia) tumbled into the room.

Blake panicked instantly, breaking out of her bonds and standing with her husband. "J-just some psychological training, sweeties! Go play outside!"

- - -

Ruby's Mind

Ruby was in the workshop in her happy home with Jaune, covered head to toe in grease, her figure noticeably more developed. She was bent over Jaune's mechashift sword when the door opened.

Bearded Jaune walked in, eyes dark with heat.

"We're gonna do some naughty things now," he growled, voice low and rough.

Ruby squeaked, "B-but I'm all dirty, sweaty and-and covered in grease!"

Jaune smirked, stepping closer until she could feel the warmth of him. "Good. That makes it better."

He pulled her into a deep, hungry kiss, not caring about the grease at all as his hands slid into her hair...

- - -

Back in reality, Jaune blinked at the unnerving silence.

"Uh… Girls?" He repeated.

Nora finally broke it, pumping her fist with a huge grin. "Nice beard, Jaune!"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, self-conscious. "Oh… thanks. It's a little itchy though, so I'm probably gonna shave it off tonight-"

"NO!" came the unanimous, slightly panicked shout from Weiss, Ruby, Pyrrha, Yang, and Blake.

Jaune startled. "Ack! What?"

Mia reached up and rubbed his beard experimentally. "Hmmm… It's scratchy!"

Yang recovered first, flashing a bright grin. "We can get special shampoo for that! Make it all soft and nice!"

Weiss nodded quickly, trying to look dignified even while blushing. "Yes! High-quality beard oil. I know several excellent brands."

Pyrrha's voice was slightly higher than usual. "It… really suits you, Jaune."

Blake just stared, ears flicking. "Don't. Shave."

Ruby was still visibly flustered. "Y-yeah! Beards are… cool! Super cool!"

Jaune looked around at all of them, completely bewildered. "I… Okay?"

Ren, who had been quietly sipping tea the entire time, let out a long, suffering sigh.

Nora immediately turned to him with sparkling eyes. "Renny? Will you grow a beard?"

Ren paused, considering it seriously. "…I'll think about it."

Nora threw her arms up in victory. "YAY!"

 

[RustedSands]

All the beacon guys start growing beards......except Neptune who can't seem to grow one.

 

[GrimmKenway8646]

Nora immediately turned to him with sparkling eyes. "Renny? Will you grow a beard?"

Ren paused, considering it seriously. "…I'll think about it."

Click to shrink...

His dad had a nice beard if I remember correctly so Nora would be eating good.

All the beacon guys start growing beards......except Neptune who can't seem to grow one.

Click to shrink...

Bro can't catch a break, even in fanfics.
Good. Its hilarious.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Jacques Schnee needed a right hand man, a dragon, to serve him. To do the dirty work, like any corrupt billionaire. So I gave him one. Meet Fafnir Volsung, a Dragon Faunus who is a combat cyborg and loyal to Jacques. I wanted to give Jacques more depth, and provide a proper boss fight for the Atlas Arc that doesn't involve character assassinating General Ironwood.

And of course, to give a little more depth to the Schnee family. Especially on Weiss' birthday. What do you think?

- - -

The Schnee mansion's grand entrance hall felt cavernous that morning—marble floors echoing under Weiss's measured footsteps, the massive chandelier catching the pale Atlas light like frozen tears.

Weiss Schnee—seventeen, luggage minimal, Myrtenaster at her side—walked with chin high, refusing to look back. Her father had already delivered his parting lecture: disappointment wrapped in threats about allowances and expectations. She wouldn't give him—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing her waver.

Not after the scar she'd gained to prove her strength.

Fafnir Volsung, her father's ever-present Dragon Faunus enforcer and security chief, stood at the foot of the main staircase. He was a shadowed, seven foot tall monolith in his black suit, with short, spiky black hair and pale skin. His broad, cybernetic wings were folded neatly over his shoulders like a cloak by an actor in an opera-His deadly high frequency sword hanging from his belt. His fingers were cybernetic claws, his arms crossed over his chest as he stood like a gargoyle keeping watch. His grim, black, and angular cybernetic mask hid the ruin of his face, but not his sharp red eyes that tracked her descent.

Weiss intended to pass without a word. He was her father's creature—enforcer, guardian, whatever pretty title Jacques gave it. The dragon who'd stood silent while her family fractured.

She reached the bottom step.

Fafnir didn't move, but his voice—low, gravel over broken glass—stopped her cold.

"You're leaving."

Weiss paused, grip tightening on her case handle.

"I have a Bullhead to catch."

She started forward again.

Fafnir shifted—just enough to block her path without touching her.

"You were never suited to be a princess."

Weiss froze. Slowly, she turned, ice in her eyes as she glared defiantly into his masked face.

"Excuse me?"

He regarded her steadily.

"You have the grace. The etiquette. The poise drilled into you since you could walk. But your soul—" his cybernetic claws flexed once—"is a warrior's. Always has been. You're fooling yourself if you think you'll return here as the perfect heiress."

Weiss's breath caught. Anger flared first—how dare he—but beneath it, something else stirred. Recognition. He had been the one to train her in combat first after all, even when her father objected. The way he'd pushed her harder than any tutor, never praising, only demanding more, had been honest and sincere. Rare commodities in the Schnee household.

She lifted her chin higher.

"And you? Why do you stay? Serving him like some loyal hound. He treats you like a tool—kill switches in your implants, orders you'd never give a real friend. Why chain yourself to a man like that?"

Fafnir was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice carried old weight.

"I swore myself to him. Long before the Schnee name. Before the mansion and the masks." A faint, bitter edge crept in. "He saved this dragon when no one else would. I trusted him to lead, as my clan is long gone. However…"

He gave her a cool, calculating look.

"If he cannot recognize true strength when it stands in front of him—" his gaze flicked briefly toward the upper floors, where Jacques's study lay—"he will lose everything. That is nature's way. The strong overcome the weak. They become weak, complacent, and are overcome."

Weiss stared at him. The resentment was still there—years of seeing him as her father's shadow, the silent figure who'd enabled every cruelty. But beneath it, something shifted.

She swallowed.

"Thank you," she said quietly. The words tasted strange—gratitude for the monster who'd enabled her father's cruelties, and yet… The same man who had trained her and her sister. The one who'd seen what no one else had.

Fafnir inclined his head, stepping aside.

"Go, Weiss Schnee. Become what you were meant to be."

She walked past him without looking back, heels clicking across marble toward the waiting car.

But his words followed her all the way to Beacon.

Warrior.

Not princess.

And for the first time, she believed it.

- - -

Fafnir watched her go, double checking the security around the compound as the Bullhead headed off. Other agents would see to her transit to the airship port without him, keeping him apprised, but he had gone over the route and itinerary himself. He knew she would be safe.

Still, he watched her go, scanning the sky for threats. Even as he found his mind reflecting on her questions… And the answers he gave her.

It was all too clear in his mind. His memory was nearly perfect, even before the cybernetics.

The night he met his master.

Deep in the underbelly of Mantle, the air stank of rust, coal smoke, and desperation.

Fafnir—barely twenty, wings tattered from the raid that had burned his clan's village to ash—huddled in a shadowed alley off the old industrial district. Snow crusted his black hair; hunger gnawed deeper than the cold. He'd made it this far on rage and stolen scraps, but the streets were claiming him piece by piece.

That night, the brawl spilled out of a dive bar called the Iron Drake—miners, smugglers, Faunus and human alike trading fists over bad liquor and worse grudges. Fafnir, half-starved and looking for a fight to feel alive, threw himself into it. Instinct was instinct.

He was winning—claws raking, wings buffeting—until a blade found his ribs and another cracked across his skull.

He went down hard in the filthy snow, blood pooling warm beneath him. The crowd scattered as sirens wailed in the distance. No one lingered for a dying dragon.

Boots crunched closer. Fafnir barely had the strength to look up.

A young human—sharp-featured, black hair slicked back, clothes a little too fine for this district—crouched beside him. Jacques Gele, orphan turned street hustler, eyes cold and calculating even at fourteen years old.

"You're a big one," Jacques said, voice calm as he pressed a stolen handkerchief to the worst wound. "A Dragon Faunus. Rare. Useful."

Fafnir snarled weakly, trying to rise. "Piss off."

Jacques didn't flinch. "You're bleeding out. I can get you patched. Or you can die here like trash. Your choice."

Fafnir's vision blurred. He had nothing left—no clan, no home, no future.

He rasped, "Why?"

Jacques's smile was thin, sharp. "Because I need muscle. And you look like the kind that doesn't break easy."

He hauled Fafnir up—surprisingly strong for his build—and half-dragged him through the night. They went through the back alleys to a rundown clinic. It was run by a doctor who asked no questions for the right amount of lien.

Jacques paid. Stayed while they stitched the dragon back together. Brought broth when Fafnir couldn't hold a spoon.

Weeks later, when Fafnir could stand again, Jacques offered his hand.

"Partners. I've got brains. You've got claws. We take what we need from those who have too much. Together."

Fafnir stared at the outstretched hand—human, soft-skinned, unafraid.

He took it.

The years that followed were filled with blood and lien.

Jacques planned—heists on mobster warehouses, Dust shipments, and raids on rival crews. Fafnir executed them all. He used his wings for rooftop drops, his claws for silent kills, raw strength and the sword when subtlety failed.

He took bullets meant for Jacques. Lost an eye in a knife fight. Broke bones that Jacques paid to set.

Every time, Jacques dragged him back from the edge—clinics, black-market doctors, whatever it took.

"Why?" He asked.

"You're an investment," Jacques would say, smirking. But he never left Fafnir behind.

The worst came during a power play against a rival syndicate boss who'd muscled in on their Dust racket.

Assassins hit their safehouse at dawn, using high-caliber rounds and Dust grenades. Fafnir threw himself between Jacques and the breach, wings shredding as he carved through the attackers.

He killed them all.

But not before they carved him open—mouth and face slashed to ruin, arm mangled beyond saving, wings torn, and his spine fractured.

He collapsed over Jacques, blood bubbling from the gory smile they'd carved into his cheeks. His vision went dark, and he fell into oblivion.

He thought that was the end.

It wasn't.

Jacques—covered in Fafnir's blood—carried him out through the flames. Spent every lien they'd scraped together on experimental cybernetics from Atlas black-market surgeons who owed him favors.

When Fafnir woke, he was half machine—wings rebuilt stronger, his fingers replaced with steel claws, his face masked to hide the ruin.

Jacques sat beside the bed, exhausted but triumphant.

"Told you," he said. "Investment."

He used the attack—spun it as an attempt on a "legitimate businessman"—to destroy his rival. He planted evidence, bought witnesses. The arrests and headlines were made.

The scandal catapulted Jacques into Atlas high society.

Fafnir became his shadow: His chief enforcer and silent guardian.

He never forgot the debt.

The boy who saved a dying dragon in a Mantle alley had given him purpose. Life. Power.

Even when Jacques married into the Schnee name.

Even when he ordered things that turned Fafnir's stomach.

Even when the man shed the last pretense of the street kid who'd once shared stolen bread.

The debt remained.

Until the day it didn't.

But that day hadn't come yet.

Fafnir watched from the shadows as Jacques rose higher, red eyes unreadable.

He owed the man his life.

And debts like that—dragon debts—were paid in blood.

No matter who's blood it was.

One way or another, he'd get his pound of flesh.

He always did.

 

[zMADLAXz]

A dragon faunus sounds like something of a chuuni ass SI Idea
*coughcoughDraconianRemnantcoughcough*

But him ultimately ending up as an attack dog to a more wealthy/cunning person sounds like a far more realistic premise.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

A dragon faunus sounds like something of a chuuni ass SI Idea
*coughcoughDraconianRemnantcoughcough*

But him ultimately ending up as an attack dog to a more wealthy/cunning person sounds like a far more realistic premise.

Click to shrink...

It adds more depth to the entire Schnee family, and a boss fight for our heroes who isn't Ironwood turned into a bad guy for literally no other reason than "POLITICAL COMMENTARY REEEEEE!"

 

[zMADLAXz]

Yeah that but I was also mainly praising your Idea of using a dragon faunus like that instead of you know how most of the fanfics use them.

As if being a certain species makes you better or something. The casual racism of the fandom is quite a sight to see.