These Colours Imperious (Weiss Schnee x Reader)

Weiss looks you up and down impassively, then frowns. "You're the one?"

Beacon's uniform still fits uncomfortably over your body; it seems an unhappy fit for someone born to be a berserker. "Yeah, unless you're expecting anyone else."

"No." Weiss raises up from the desk she was sat on. She moves so elegantly you think her body might be made from freezerburnt lightning and melting ice. "For the first two years of your time at Beacon, I'm going to be your student-tutor. Where should we begin: Dust valence, Grimm efialobiology, or practical duelling?"

or: humanity increasingly nears extinction, and those who might be the last of the huntsmen are trying to live what life they have left (while it's still their own).