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Roommates (ArcWitch) - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-10-20 22:49:52 +0000 UTCCommission for someone. A Jaune x Glynda romance where Glynda is an absolute girlfailure outside of her job and Jaune becomes her house husband.
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Jaune's heroic story wasn't off to a good start.
When he got those fake transcripts, he was over the moon. He honestly thought that it wouldn't work. Beacon was a Huntsmen Academy, for Brothers' sake. He figured that if anyone would spot fake transcripts, it'd be them. But no, they just accepted it. Well, he wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth. This was his chance to become the Huntsman he always wanted. So with a head full of hopes and dreams, he packed up his stuff and left for Vale...without telling his parents.
They would've tried to stop him! Mom didn't play favorites, but being the only son meant he was still treated differently compared to his sisters. And Dad? He wanted all his kids safe. None of that Huntsmen stuff. Too dangerous, he always said. Better to just stay at home and pick up a trade. Work in the winery, maybe learn blacksmithing or farming. Or if they really insisted on danger, working with the militia to man the walls taking potshots at stray beowolves while real Huntsmen did all the fighting.
Jaune didn't want to live life like that. He wanted to be a hero like his grandpa and great-grandpa. War heroes and Huntsmen both. Besides, he was twenty years old now. Too old to be staying at home in the family estate. He needed to spread his wings! And Vale was just the right place for it. The big city connected to Beacon academy. The place where people went to accomplish their dreams. The rest of the guys his age in the tavern talked a lot about going over there once they saved up enough money. After a hard day of work, they'd spend it all on the tavern on cheap ale while fantasizing about making it big or getting a Huntress girlfriend.
Now he was gonna accomplish that goal.
He'd already paid the transport to take him to Vale. From there, he could rent a motel until the initiation started the next week. Sure, he didn't have proper training from a combat school, but he'd done his forms in the backyard whenever he could and he knew how to lift 'cause of working around the winery. Plus, Beacon was an academy, right? They must've taught people. He could learn on the go. Fake it till you make it, like Pearl always said.
He was practically bouncing in his seat the whole way to Vale. The sword - Crocea Mors - draped across his lap felt almost weightless as he imagined it all. Fighting Grimm, working with a team, maybe even getting a girlfriend at Beacon. He'd spend the next 20 years exploring Remnant, having adventurers and saving settlements from the Grimm. Maybe he'd even be the one called to Domremy It'd be so awesome.
And then it all came crashing down when he got that call.
Jaune had barely gotten off the ship when his (new) scroll rang. At first he thought that his parents somehow knew his new number. Instead, it was an unknown one, "Uh...hello?"
"Good morning. This is Jaune Arc, correct?"
"Yeah. Sorry, who is this?"
"I'm Professor Peach at Beacon." Jaune's heart started thumping. This didn't sound good, "We've been reviewing our enrolled students and it appears we've actually run out of slots."
"Which means...?"
"Which means that you will not be able to attend Beacon this year." Jaune nearly dropped the phone. Was she serious? Please tell him she was just playing a prank, "I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience, but there's been an influx of students recently. We had to choose based on certain factors." Meaning not him. He was careful with his transcripts. Too good and it'd be suspicious, too bad and he would've been completely glossed over. So he found out that was perfectly average. Slightly below average, actually, so they wouldn't question why he struggled at first.
"What does this mean for me?"
"Beacon's slots are already filled, but if you want, we can forward your transcripts to the other academies. They should still have-"
"No!" Jaune shouted. A few people turned to look at him. He winced and continued in a softer voice, "I mean, no thank you. I'm dead-set on Beacon." Because they somehow fell for his fake transcripts. He didn't want to take a chance on Haven, Shade, or Atlas Academy falling for it too, "I just...is there really no way to get in this year?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Arc, but we're already at capacity." To her credit, she did sound legitimately apologetic, "I can ensure that you and any other students that are set on Beacon receive priority enrollment next year, if you want."
"Yes! Please do that!" He said it before he could really think better of it. He'd just ran away from home, left a letter and everything. Was he supposed to just go back and tell his parents that he was postponing running away till next year? Not a chance. He'd come this far. He wasn't gonna go back until he became a full-fledged Huntsman, "Just...please keep me up to date if anything changes and I can enroll sooner. Thank you."
"I'll do that. My apologies again, Mr. Arc. Goodbye."
The call ended. Just stared blankly down at his scroll then at his stroller case. He had enough money for a couple of weeks at a motel. He figured that was all he needed, really. His clothes, his armor, and his weapon. Now he had to stretch two weeks worth of lien and clothes to a whole year. He needed to find somewhere to live, a place to wash his clothes, buy food...Brothers, this was gonna be a nightmare. Either that or he camped outside the walls over the next 12 months like some hardcore survivalist. He knew how to camp.
Jaune shook his head. That was dumb. No, he'd just find an apartment. There were cheaper places in Vale even with property costs being what they were. Space inside the walls were at a premium and he could take living in a shabby place for a year if it meant getting into Beacon.
He could do this.
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Three days passed with Jaune staying at the cheapest place he could find - a capsule hotel straight out of Mistral - while searching for jobs and somewhere to live. He didn't have any papers with him, which was pretty common for people coming in from outside the walls. But being common didn't mean it would make it any easier to find a job without any records. People with papers were basically a tier above anyone who wasn't inside kingdoms. '
In the end, he managed to get an interview for a job working as an assistant in a Mistralian restaurant. It wasn't the most glamorous job, but he knew his way around the kitchen and the place didn't ask questions as long as he didn't steal from the till. The salary was just below minimum wage, which sucked, but what could he do? He reminded himself that it was only for a year before he'd go to Beacon. They'd have dorm rooms, fancy chefs, and washing machines you didn't need to pay for.
The places were harder. There were some cheap places on the "bad side" of town, but they were too far from his (pending) new job and they kinda screamed "will wake up with your kidneys missing". Or worse - his sword. More slumlords than landlords.
And then he found something interesting. An apartment in the central district of Vale. Normally it would've been way out of his price tag, but there was a special offer going. Half-price if he agreed to share it with a roommate. That was suspicious, but at least he was less likely to get jumped at a respectable place with security cameras everywhere. It was the best option he had.
So he left the capsule hotel and made his way there. Even after three days here, he still felt like a stranger in Vale. His shabby clothes were out of place and the sword attached to his luggage looked lame compared to some of other weapons he'd seen around. He saw seomeone walking around with a giant scythe, for pete's sake. Crocea Mors felt like a toothpick by comparison. He shook his head. It wasn't the weapon, it was the man. That was what his grandpa always said when he was younger.
The apartment complex looked sleek and corporate, blending in with the rest of the buildings in central Vale. Jaune tightened his grip on his luggage and dragged it along to the automatic entrance. He'd already sent a message before that he was interested in meeting and the landlord seemed eager to meet.
Almost too eager...
He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, "Excuse me, Mr. Stone? It's Jaune Arc. I'm here about the apartment."
There was a rush of footsteps before the door was practically pulled off its hinges. The man on the other side looked rough. Disheveled clothes, messy hair, and bags under his eyes. The way his fingers twitched, Jaune was guessing he was on a caffeine high, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Arc! Very nice to meet you!" He shook his hand and practically dragged him inside the office. The neatness of the room was a start contrast to its owner.
"Nice to meet you too." Jaune forced a smile and sat down on the chair while Mr. Stone did the same across from him, "Are...you okay?"
"Hm? Yes, yes. Just dealing with some things right now." He picked up a mug of coffee and drank it down in one gulp. That probably wasn't healthy, "I'm sorry, I've just been dealing with some things. Please don't mind me."
"Right. The room?" Jaune asked, trying to change the subject.
"Yes, of course, the room." He opened an envelope and slid a contract across the desk. Jaune made sure to read over every single line. Mom and Dad made sure he knew how to look at the fine print. Dealing in wines meant people tried to rip them off or get more than they paid for. He scanned through it at least three times to make sure there weren't any double meanings or hidden clauses. Mr. Stone just waited patiently without a word.
The terms were...generous. Half the rent, and he only had to start paying next month. It would give him time to get all the money he needed even if the job interview fell through. Besides that, there wasn't much anything they demanded. No favors, no midnight checks, nothing.
The only thing that caught his eye was the roommate clause. The rules stipulated that they had to keep arguments down and that they DO NOT involve the landlord or any neighbors in any fights. Seemed reasonable enough, but the emphasis made him question it, "You seem...worried about the tenant." Jaune set the contract down.
"Well, Tenant 3-B is an...acquired taste." He refilled the cup and drank it down in one gulp, "You see, she's been living with someone for the past couple of years. Shared tenants aren't forbidden here. But it appears her roommate has, well, I believe 'snapped' is the right word." Jaune blinked. What, "So you see, half the rent isn't being paid and Tenant 3-B refuses to leave. She claims she finds it comfortable and that moving would be a hassle."
"And you can't kick her out because...?"
"Because he's terrifying, Mr. Arc," he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"So...is she dangerous?" Because the slumlord was looking real tempting right now.
"Oh no, no. She wouldn't just assault people. But she has a glare that could freeze the Vacuo desert." He forced a laugh. Jaune didn't laugh with him, "And also, she has some...er, habits that might be off-putting to some. Nothing that would put you in harm's way, but as I said, she's an acquired taste."
"Uh, maybe I should-"
"Sign this contract now and you can move in today, no questions asked." Jaune blinked. The offer was deathly calm, "I'm serious, Mr. Arc. You can sleep under this roof tonight if you just sign. You've read the contract, you see that it's fair. What do you say?"
...
He signed.
Minutes later, Jaune was stepping off the elevator unsure if he felt relieved or like he was walking to his own execution. The fact that the landlord didn't come with him was the biggest red flag. Just handed him the keycard, told him the room number, then said he expected the first deposit this time next month. He didn't even ask for papers, which was another mixed blessing. Places like these were reserved for citizens or those with enough money for papers to not matter.
He reminded himself that he had experience. He'd survived twenty years in the Arc household with all the chaos his family had. If he could survive that, he could survive this.
The door to apartment 3-B felt way more imposing than it should've been. Jaune gulped, the card sticking to his clammy left palm. Probably a bad idea to walk in there without any warning. Instead, he rang the doorbell and waited for the voice to come at the end of the speaker, "Who is it?"
"Jaune Arc. Uh, I'm your new roommate. Just signed the lease and everything." No response. Jaune shifted from one leg to the other, "Are you there?"
"Yes, I'm here." She sounded irritated. Not good, "I would've preferred if our landlord gave me a warning, but it doesn't matter. Hold on, I'll get the door." Jaune straightened himself up and tried to look as professional as possible in his baggy hoodie and ratty jeans.
All thoughts of professionalism went out the window as soon as the door swung open.
The woman that greeted him was...well, he wasn't gonna sugarcoat it: she was hot as hell. Pale, flawless skin with light blonde hair that fell in soft currls behind her neck and back. Piercing green eyes that looked at him warily. Not unfriendly, but not welcoming either. He was suddenly reminded of how the landlord called her "scary".
But more than her looks, it was her outfit that drew the eyes. A purple tanktop that left little to the imagination. The thing looked one size too small and cloth practically clung to her chest. The way she was leaning against the doorway only emphasized them. Below that was a pair of black shorts that looked more like small boxers. The fabric clung just as tightly as her top did to her long, shapely legs and it took everything he had to not stare. He was raised to be a gentleman, after all.
Completing the look was a can of beer she held loosely in her right hand, the alcohol sloshing around as she lightly shook the can. He couldn't tell how old she was. Older than him, definitely, but nothing besides that. She didn't have any wrinkles and she looked like someone in her mid to late twenties, but the severe expression told him thta she was older than that.
"So, you're my new roommate."
"Y-Yes ma'am! Jaune Arc, pleasure to meet you." He offered her a hand.
She looked down for a second before shaking it, "Glynda Goodwitch. You can call me Glynda or Goodwitch or ma'am. Doesn't really matter." She took a sip of the beer. Jaune watched as her throat bulged slightly, "Come in then. I'll give you the tour."
Glynda turned and walked away. Jaune did not stare at her butt and just followed her inside, focusing instead on the room. The place looked nice. Bigger than he expected, but that made sense since this was Central Vale. Lower Vale apartments were basically closets. This place was decently large. A living room, dining room, and two closed doors that he assumed were the bedrooms. It was practically a steal considering all he had to do was share it with a...very attractive roommate.
"That's your room." She pointed to the door on the left. The one on the right was slightly ajar, "House rules first. Your stuff is your stuff, and my stuff is my stuff. If anything in the fridge has my name on it, do not touch it. Anything else you can help yourself, but I'm expecting the same courtesy. You don't want me to touch something in the fridge of pantry, label it. There's only one bathroom. I'll be using it from 7 to 7:30 whenever I'm here. That's non-negotiable. If you wanna take a shower, you're doing it before or after that."
"Got it." Jaune nodded, "What do you mean 'whenever I'm here'?"
"I work at a busy job. Sometimes, I sleep there instead of here. Rules still apply. Stay out of my room and don't touch my stuff or my food. I'll know."
"Sounds...reasonable enough." Was this really the woman that caused her roommate to snap?
"Of course it is. Some people just can't follow rules." She scoffed and tossed the empty can away in the corner. It was only then that Jaune noticed the stuff on the floor. Empty beer cans, discarded clothes, and haphazardly thrown shoes. A deeper look at the kitchen showed that the sink was piled up with dirty dishes and stained glasses that looked like they'd been there a while. Glynda noticed where he was looking and rolled her eyes, "I've been busy with work. Didn't leave much time to clean up." An edge of defensiveness seeped into her voice.
"It's no problem." Jaune smiled. Okay, so she was a bit of a slob. Whatever, he could work with that. He'd dealt with similar for years, "Just to clarify, that doesn't count as 'your stuff', right?"
"You live in the apartment too, Mr. Arc. Yes, you can use the plates." She rolled her eyes again, "I'm actually heading to work soon. Something happened and apparently my colleagues are incapable of cleaning up after themselves." He didn't say anything about how ironic it was for her to say that, "Make yourself at home. I should be back by the evening assuming nothing catastrophic's happened. My emergency scroll number's on the fridge. Call me only if something horrible happens."
"Right. Good luck at work."
He dragged his luggage over to the room. The inside was sparse. A bed, a bedside cabinet, and a dresser. Whoever Glynda's last roommate was, they took everything. He sat down on the bed and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. This was good, he told himself. He had a place now, and a month of breathing room. Tomorrow, he'd go to that interview for the kitchen job - and if that failed, he had a few more lined up. He had a year to try and make this work.
Jaune's eyes fluttered shut and he suddenly felt all three days of exhaustion bearing down on him. He spent most of the time in that capsule hotel finding places and jobs he could apply for. He'd barely even slept. He closed his eyes and just let it all wash over him. The job interview was a tomorrow problem. Today? He'd gotten a break.
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By the time he woke up again, the sun was setting. Jaune yawned and checked his scroll. A little past 5 PM. Glynda would be back in a few hours. Rubbing his eyes, he stood up and walked outside. She wasn't there, of course. He debated between decorating the room or cooking some food before quickly deciding on the latter. Maybe Glynda would appreciate a cooked meal. It would make a good impression too. Show that he wasn't a mooch.
The first problem came when he opened the fridge and saw what was inside. Half-eaten takeout, packs of beer, ice cream, and microwave dinners. Nothing else. The beer and ice cream had Glynda's name hastily labeled on the containers. Jaune looked up and down but failed to find anything. He kept far away from the beer - house rules, he reminded himself - and looked at the takeout lids. Noodles, chicken, little eggs. Could he make something with this?
The pantry wasn't any better. He expected at least something he could cook like canned food or maybe some spaghetti. Instead, it was filled to the brim with junk food, soda (why wasn't it on the fridge?!), instant noodles, and...was that a blouse? He carefully picked it up between two fingers. The white fabric was stained with some kind of sauce. This was way beyond not having time to clean up. It took effort to put this here.
His head shifted over to Glynda's room. She told him to stay out, but would she really mind if he dropped her clothes back in her bed? He wasn't gonna touch anything. Steeling himself, he grabbed some of the other discarded clothes - blouses, skirts, stockings - and folded them neatly into piles. Just go in, drop her clothes, and get out. It was the polite, neightborly thing to do. Roomately. Whatever. He was trying to be a good tenant here.
Jaune opened the door and immediately wished he didn't.
He'd seen messes before. Grow up in a big house made sure of that. This? This wasn't a mess. This was the trash of the Brothers themselves. Every inch of the room was messy. Clothes strewn around everywhere, discarded beer cans and junk food wrappers everywhere. There were takeout containers just...lying on the floor, and half to them weren't even empty! Jaune covered his mouth with a shaky hand and sturggled to keep holding onto the clothes.
It wasn't just the floor either. It was everything. Her bed? Clothes, discarded wrappers, and - oh gods - a half-melted chocolate bar. Her table? Even more clothes, crumpled papers, multiple bottles of soda, and...was that a destroyed scroll?! That wasn't safe! Wait, none of this was safe!
The only bit of cleaning up to be seen were piles of trashbags on the other side of the room, and he used the term 'cleaning up' very loosely. Each one was overflowing with garbage and the tops weren't even sealed. How did she live like this?! How did she manage to look like that while living worse than any hobo?!
Jaune took a deep breath. Okay, so his roommate wasn't just a slob. She was the slob to end all slobs. He could deal with this. In a year's time, he'd be learning to fight Grimm. He could deal with this. With his held (and nose) held high, he walked inside through what little of the floor was left. Get in, drop the clothes, get out. Hell, they'd probably be the neatest thing in this room. He took every step as they came. Left, right, left, right, left-
There was a skittering on the bed and a big, angry brown rat crawled out of one of the wrappers. It glared at him with malicious intent.
...
Jaune screamed, tossed the clothes into the pile, and ran out of there as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't look back to see if the vermin was giving chase. He just slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls.
Okay, so he'd definitely be following the house rules. Glynda's room? Forbidden. More restricted than the Grimmlands. Wouldn't go in there even if his life depended on it. Jaune wiped the sweat off his brow and ignored the skittering he heard behind the door. Not today, rat. Not today.
He trudged back to the fridge and mechanically grabbed whatever he could use to cook. This wasn't the welcoming party he was hoping for, but screw it. When life gave you lemons, you made orange juice. One year, he told himself as he turned on the stove. Just one year and his heroic journey could start.
He swore he heard the rat laugh at that.
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Poor Jaune. Wonder if he can survive a whole year with Glynda. On the bright side, rooming with a Beacon professor could definitely give him some brownie points and maybe some personal training.
Comments
KirbyKingShip
THIS! IS! PEAK! FUCK YEAH!!!!
Shorter than joe Mama
She's like Misato but blonde... and cranky.
