Novel & Cerita Rwby Male Ruby Fanfiction

When I'm having a meal with my family at home, I find out that my childhood sweetheart, Melanie Johnson, has given up on an opportunity to get promoted and transferred to the military base in the north for the sake of my cousin, Wilson Chandler. "Wilson's competence is only good enough for him to study at a local college in town. It so happens that Mrs. Holland is in poor health as well. I've already applied for a local college for you. We shall stay in this town together." My mom adds, "That's right. I did promise your uncle that I'll take good care of Wilson, so you need to help me take care of him too. You should just give up on Valmore College—it's useless for you anyway. When you marry Melanie in the future, you'll have to follow her to whichever military district she's going to." Before I can even speak up, Wilson's eyes redden instantly, making him look very aggrieved. "This is my fault for being a total loser. My parents aren't here anymore, not to mention I'm the reason why Charlie can't attend his dream college. Why don't you all just leave and do whatever you want? I'm fine being alone." The moment Wilson starts playing the pity card, both my mom and Melanie panic instantly and start doing their best to comfort him. Meanwhile, I return to my room quietly and withdrew the application that Melanie helped me submit. Luckily, I manage to apply to Valmore College one second before the submission deadline ends. Honestly speaking, I intend to study at Valmore College not just because I can be closer to Melanie in terms of distance, but I also want to watch the snow with her there. I want us to walk together in the snow till our heads turn white from the flakes, signifying the longevity in our relationship. But now, the person standing next to me as I watch the snowfall doesn't matter to me anymore. It's just that I need to watch the snowfall no matter what.

"Hubby, kiss me. I miss you so much. When are you coming home?" Out of nowhere, I received a text. The sender was the cold, untouchable CEO who was currently scolding us in a meeting, Veronica Starling. What shocked me even more was the timestamp on the message. It was sent five years in the future.

My sister, Judy Easton, skipped school and started dating way too early, but our parents sent me, the straight-A kid, to a juvenile behavioral correction center, saying it was to teach her a lesson. "Judy, take a good look at William. Act up again, and you're going there, too." My family showed up to visit every so often. The first year, an instructor blew out my eardrum. I was covered in blood, gripping the bars, begging for help. Dad pointed at me while talking to Judy. "Look at him. Still can't follow simple instructions. If you don't listen to us, you'll end up just like him." The second year, the instructor broke both my legs. My parents stood over my bed and said, "Look at you, lying there like a useless wimp. We came all this way to see you, and this is the welcome we get? How ungrateful." The third year, the instructor pumped me full of hormones. I swelled up like a whale. The instructor smirked. "That's probably shot now. Let's see how you go after girls now." Judy stood outside the cage holding her acceptance letter to a top college. The whole family looked pleased. "William, Judy got into a top college. You did your part. I'm taking you home." I blinked, my vision hazy, trying to make sense of it. "Who's William? They all call me Runt."

My roommates have booked booth seats at the New Year Countdown Light Show at the price of five thousand dollars per ticket. Soon, they begin urging me to transfer them my share of the payment on the group chat. I just send them a screenshot of the remaining balance in my bank account. "You guys have fun. I'm still saving up for my college tuition fees." Everyone just spams me with laughing messages instead. One of my roommates, Zane Lawson, even uploads a screenshot of our conversation to his social media feed together with a caption that says, "The first step of ascending to the next tier in social hierarchy is to stay away from party poopers like this." But as soon as 12:00 am is over, my roommates send me a photo of the light show. "It's such a shame that you aren't here." I'm still confused by the photo when I receive a phone call from the counselor, who sounds very anxious over the phone. "Did you buy tickets for your roommates to the light show? The organizers claimed that they never checked in at the entrance! Now, they've gone missing!"

A while ago, my buddy Aaron Miller took me to a camping site, and that’s when I truly learned what camping was all about. I also discovered why so many men become obsessed with camping and can’t get enough of it. Inside each tent, there were stunning women, each one more beautiful than the last. There were the intellectual and graceful ones, the mature and seductive ones, the petite and delicate ones, and the quirky, fun ones—there was no type you couldn’t find there.

During a surgical procedure to remove the skin tag from my private part, I accidentally exposed my "manhood." Since then, I've noticed quite a few young nurses sneaking glances my way. Still, none have been as daring as her, showing up at my door in the dead of night.

I'm a special kind of courier. Instead of packages, I transport beautiful women. I drop them off at designated locations and pick them up afterward. Each round trip earns me a thousand dollars. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that my crush would climb into my car one day. What's more, she'd brought my sister along, saying they wanted to make some quick money together.

I applied for a popular online job as a personal chef. I thought I'd be cooking simple, home-style meals, but I quickly found myself trapped in a world of surprises. The food they were craving was me, served on a platter. The wealthy women were looking for excitement, torturing me night after night. But what they didn't realize was, the real thrill came when the dogs turned on each other.

Everyone said I was too possessive when it came to my girlfriend, Amanda Crane. When Amanda first started taking photos of her childhood friend, Ian Lewis, I ripped apart all the rolls of film. When she helped him fix his computer, I called her 100 times in an hour. And when he called her from the airport, asking her to pick him up because the rain made it impossible to get a cab, I held a knife to my throat. I told her I'd take my own life if she went to him. Fed up, Amanda shipped me off to a psychiatric hospital that same night. When I got out, I vanished. Amanda was certain I was hiding somewhere, spying on her and Ian, but I never showed up—until the celebration party for a business project three years later. Ian put his arm around Amanda and swirled the wine glass he was holding. He shot me a taunting look, remarking, "You used to get so jealous, Steven. I'm sure you no longer mind if Mandy and I drink from the same glass now, right?" He waited for me to go berserk the way I used to three years ago, but I simply moved the bottle of wine closer to them. "I don't mind at all, of course. Have as many glasses as you want. It's great to see that your relationship has been progressing so well." Amanda paused. Her eyes started to redden. She stared fixedly at me and questioned, "Why don't you feel jealous anymore, Steven?"

On our first wedding anniversary, I took the day off from work and left early, only to find that my wife had probably cheated on me. One day I arrived at home, I found a shocking display where my wife was engaging in some intense activities…