Chapter Text
Well, this had to be a dream. It was the only explanation that made even remote sense.
Jaune Arc was not the kind of guy who brought girls home. Especially not in the middle of the night. And especially not girls this pretty.
So yeah. Dream. Had to be. Because otherwise, he was standing in his tiny apartment doorway, staring at a petite, gorgeous girl curled up on his couch, spoon-deep in his ice cream like she paid rent.
She looked like she’d been through a fight — her clothes were dirty, her hair tousled, a thin scab under her chin. But she wasn’t panicked. Just calm. Watchful. Like she lived here, and he was the intruder.
That was… concerning.
Because dream logic would’ve had her draped over him, whispering sweet nothings or feeding him a spoonful of ice cream. But no. She was cradling the tub of mint chip like it was a wounded puppy, and giving him a look that said any sudden moves and your dairy dies first.
Jaune blinked. Maybe she’d gotten the wrong apartment?
Is this even his apartment?
Still on the threshold to the apartment he turned to look at the number on the door. A little bronze plaque read 718.
Okay I’m not invading a girls room, thank the brothers.
He could imagine Junior or some of the bouncers of the club kicking his ass for barging in on one of the waitress apartments in the middle of the night.
They would’ve been completely right to do so too.
At least if it was on purpose. Maybe she was drunk? Or high? Or just lost? She probably just entered the wrong apartment.
Did I lock the door? He thought harder trying to remember, maybe he had even left it open. He was too tired to remember if he had unlocked it now.
“Uh… hi?” he offered gently, trying not to sound as awkward as he felt.
She didn’t respond. Just stared at him over the rim of the spoon, her mismatched eyes — one pink, one soft hazel — tracking his every breath.
They were dazzling. Hypnotic, even. And also just a little bit threatening.
“Are… you okay?” he asked, softer this time, hands held up in a peaceful please-don’t-shiv-me-with-a-spoon kind of way.
Still nothing. No words. Not even a nod. Just that eerie, unreadable stare.
Jaune’s brain was screaming for an explanation, and all he had was mint chip diplomacy and zero backup.
He cleared his throat, glancing at the empty wrappers on his sofé table.
“Oh no,” he muttered to himself, piecing it together.
This wasn’t a dream. This was an actual, honest-to-Brothers break-in.
Because there was no way she thought this was her place. Not after emptying his entire sweets shelf and claiming the couch like it had her name engraved on it. And judging by the empty wrappers and the tub of mint chip now cradled like a newborn, this miniature ice cream bandit had been here a while.
So, yeah. The world’s smallest, prettiest burglar was committing grand theft gelato in his living room.
Now came the real question:
Did he try to fight her? Or just
roll with it
and pray she wasn’t a stab-happy maniac with a sweet tooth?
He glanced at the door. Junior owned the building — half the staff from the club lived upstairs. If things got dicey, all he had to do was yell. At least three bartenders and a bouncer lived two doors down. One scream and this tiny trespasser would be eating linoleum.
Then again… if his mom ever found out he refused to help a girl who was clearly bruised, dirty, and maybe even injured?
He’d be dead . No. Worse. Grounded.
Besides, he had a few months until Beacon’s initiation. No need to get arrested or start a fight in the meantime. So—No cops. No yelling.
Just… a weird night.
He raised his hands again, palms out, doing his best to channel “friendly local cinnamon roll” energy.
“I don’t want any trouble,” he said calmly. “If you’re just here for the food, that’s totally fine. You’re welcome to it — I don’t really have anything else.”
Which was true. Junior paid him in card credits that went straight to the Bank of Vale. No jewelry. No tech that wasn't his scroll and the old tv the apartment came with. And no cash.
The only thing remotely valuable in the whole apartment was Crocea Mors, and even that was more sentimental than sellable. Old-fashioned, no Dust tech, no mechashift — just a sword and shield. Antique at best.
She didn’t look like she was here to rob him anyway. If anything, she seemed more interested in his sugar stash than any actual valuables. The place hadn’t even been searched — no drawers open, no bags rifled through. She’d walked in, raided the pantry, and settled on the couch like it was just Tuesday.
He eyed the smudge of dried blood near her temple, the ripped sleeve, the half-limping way she shifted her legs. “Rough night?” he asked gently.
She glanced down at herself, blinked… then shrugged and made a vague motion with her hand — kind of a ‘meh, you win some, you lose some gesture’ — all without letting go of the ice cream.
That probably meant yes?
“I’ve got a first aid kit,” Jaune offered, taking a cautious step forward. “If you want?”
She hesitated. Spoon still in her mouth. Then slowly nodded.
He didn’t question it. He just gave a tiny, tired smile and moved to grab the kit. Honestly, if all she wanted was ice cream and a bandage?
He could live with that.
Honestly… he’d had worse houseguests.
Jaune retrieved the first aid kit from under the sink and returned to the living room, nudging aside a few wrappers to make room. He flipped the latch open and began pulling out gauze, alcohol wipes, and some bandages. Across from him, the world’s tiniest ice cream thief leaned forward curiously, her legs tucked beneath her as she hugged the bucket like it was a priceless artifact.
“Can you tell me where it hurts?” he asked gently.
She shook her head, then pointed at her throat. Opening her mouth, she made a soft, breathless sound — no voice behind it, just air.
Oh. She’s mute. Like Jade.
Jaune’s entire demeanor shifted. He turned to fully face her, his attention laser-focused and soft. She visibly tensed — unused to that kind of spotlight maybe? — but he didn’t back down.
He started signing slowly as he spoke aloud, each word accompanied by clear, deliberate hand gestures.
“Can you sign? If you go slow, I can keep up.”
The look she gave him was worth every second. Wide-eyed surprise, quickly masked by suspicion. She tucked the spoon back into her mouth like a sword into a sheath, then nestled the ice cream more securely on her lap before starting to sign back at him.
Her movements were smooth, practiced, and fast.
“ You know sign language? ” she signed, one brow lifting.
“Nope,” he replied cheerfully.
Her spoon shifted from dessert delivery to threat position — aimed straight at his nose. Her eyes narrowed into a warning glare.
He laughed, holding up both hands in mock surrender. “My sister’s mute. Jade. I sat through all her classes so she wouldn’t feel alone.”
Something softened in her expression — just for a second.
“Can you tell me where it hurts?” he asked again, making sure to keep his voice calm and his eyes on hers the whole time. Jade had always appreciated that — being seen. Not just talked to, but talked with.
The girl smirked.
“ No, ” she signed cheekily. “ But I can sign. ”
Oh, she was a little menace. Just like Jade.
“ I’m fine. Just banged up. You should see the other guy,” she added, grinning like a cat who’d just ruined someone’s day on purpose.
He chuckled. “Alright. Then I’ll just clean up the scratches, okay? Nothing major.”
She nodded, nonchalant. “ Sure, go for it. But I’m not giving the ice cream back. ”
Jaune grabbed an alcohol wipe and tore the packet open, shooting her a smile.
“Wasn’t gonna ask,” Jaune said, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “But I will trade you for it.”
She paused mid-bite, pink and hazel eyes narrowing with amused suspicion.
“If you give me enough to make two—one for me, one for you—I’ll make you the famous Arc Full-Bucket Sundae.”
She raised a skeptical eyebrow, unconvinced.
“It’s worth it. I have seven sisters to back me up: no bad day can survive it.”
That got her. As always, the seven hit like a stun grenade. But this time, he saw the flicker of interest pass over her face. She tilted her head, clearly intrigued despite herself.
“ Better be good, ” she signed one-handed, her other arm cradling the ice cream like it was a state treasure. “ I’ll beat you if you ruin my ice cream. ”
“First off, that’s my ice cream . ” He pointed.
She gave him a look that said not anymore , and took another deliberate bite just to prove the point.
“Second—” Jaune grinned, undeterred, “—if you don’t like it, I’ll personally buy you another tub. Sounds fair?”
She gave it a slow, deliberate nod. Terms accepted. And that was probably the dumbest decision he'd made all week. Inviting an ice cream-stealing burglar back for seconds? Sure. Why not. But in his defense, she was cute, and the only other girls he’d met in Vale either served drinks next to him or could snap him like a twig. He had seen some of the guys that tried to flirt with the twins, Brothers have mercy on those.
Still, progress was progress.
Unfortunately, he made the classic mistake of getting a little too close, a little too fast. A flash of silver flicked past his vision — her spoon stopping a breath from his eye. Jaune froze like a deer in headlights.
“Whoa! Okay, no sudden moves. Got it. Just gonna clean your face…”
Her expression didn’t shift, but she didn’t stab him either, so that felt like a win.
He moved slowly, dabbing gently at the smudges on her cheek and jawline, careful around the edge of her lip. She didn’t say a word — couldn’t — but the way her eyes tracked his every move told him she was more amused than alarmed. Her breath even hitched a little when the cloth passed near a fresh scrape on her temple.
When he reached her brow, though, she instinctively jerked back.
“Yeah, that one’s got a bite to it,” he murmured. “Not deep, but if I don’t clean it right, it’ll scar.”
He steadied her chin with a firm hand — nothing rough, just the kind of steady pressure that said hang in there. Completely unaware that if she wanted to, she could’ve turned his wrist into modern art before he blinked.
“Just be strong for one minute. Then I’ll make you the best ice cream sundae you’ve ever had. Promise.”
She grumbled silently, but nodded.
A couple dabs, a gentle pat with gauze, and a tiny bandage later, she was patched up and (somewhat) pristine. Her cheeks had a little color again. He stepped back to survey the job.
“Anything else?” he asked, giving her a quick once-over. Just dirt smudges on her pants, maybe a bruised knee. Her boots were off by the sofa, looking like they’d marched through half of Vale, but she didn’t seem injured beyond the surface stuff.
“ Eyes. Up. Here, ” she signed slowly, one finger rising with the spoon. The message was clear: I still have my weapon.
He laughed. A short snort that caught him by surprise. No way someone this adorable was that dangerous. Even if she had broken into his apartment and stolen his dessert. She’d squirmed like a kitten when he dabbed the disinfectant, and now she was acting like she was some tiny badass.
“Sorry. Just checking. If you’re good, I’ll get started. But I’m gonna need the tub back.”
She tilted her head, considering. Then pointed a commanding finger toward the kitchen.
“ No. Start cooking. If I like what I see, then you can borrow it. ”
“Borrow? You’re letting me borrow my own ice cream?”
With a sigh so exaggerated it could’ve been theatrical, Jaune got to his feet.
“You are ridiculous. I hope you know that.”
She flashed him a smug, minty grin.
As he disappeared into the kitchen, she pulled the tub closer – smirking like a cat who’d just domesticated the dog – got up and silently accompanied him.
Jaune had a problem.
A few, actually.
The biggest one being that his adorable, gelato-thieving home invader may have already eaten everything he needed for his ultimate comfort dish: the Arc Full-Bucket Sundae.
He was pretty sure he had the ingredients yesterday. He only broke the sundae out on truly special occasions: once when homesickness had kicked his heart in the teeth, another when a bottle had nearly nailed his head during a bar brawl, and the third after Junior had sat him down for The Talk about leaving the bar life behind and chasing the huntsman dream. He was a surprisingly nice guy for a two-for-two brick house of a man.
Today? Apparently counted too.
He grabbed two big soup bowls—the kind that were almost small mixing basins—the chocolate and strawberry fudge, a bag of wafers, and the over-the-top sprinkle-and-peanut assortment he’d bought on sale. In his defense, it had been weirdly cheap , and he liked scooping out little bits to snack on while studying.
As he began lining up ingredients on the counter, he looked over his shoulder. “Do you have any problems with bananas, strawberries, or apples?”
Normally, the Arc Sundae had more fruit options—each of his sisters had their favorites—but those three were his go-tos. Simple, sweet, and safe.
Neo—who was now comfortably perched on the edge of the counter like she owned it—shook her head. Her mismatched eyes followed his every move like a lazy but curious cat.
Jaune opened the fridge and stopped short.
“...You ate all the strawberries?”
Neo slowly mimed a whistle, absolutely soundless, and entirely unrepentant.
He sighed. “Great. I was kinda looking forward to those.”
She shrugged with an angelic smile that said not my problem.
Still muttering to himself, Jaune grabbed what was left: bananas and apples. He placed them on the counter along with the rest.
“Alright, new question. Do you like strawberry fudge? And any issues with peanuts?”
Another silent shake of the head. Her legs swung – in pink and brown mismatched socks – a little over the cabinet door.
“Okay, then.” He rolled up his sleeves, already in motion. “Let’s get to work.”
First step: he drizzled generous swirls of chocolate and strawberry fudge into the bowls, making sure they coated the sides and left a little puddle at the bottom.
Then came the sprinkles and chopped peanuts. He used the fudge like glue, packing the crunchy bits along the inside of the bowl, forming what looked like a candy-studded crown.
Next, he chopped the fruit into bite-sized pieces, layering them carefully on one side of the bowl to keep it balanced. It already looked like the kind of thing dentists have nightmares about.
Finally, he opened the freezer, reaching for salvation: the last remaining ice cream tub in the apartment.
Only to feel it vanish from his hands mid-reach.
Neo had hopped off the counter in a blink and swiped it clean. She now held it in both hands like it was the Holy Grail, eyes bright with mischief.
He blinked. “I was literally going to use that.”
She grinned and pointed at herself. Then the ice cream. Then back at herself.
“Yes, yes, I get it. You can have some .” He waved vaguely. “But I need it for—”
She shook her head firmly and signed something, slow and deliberate.
“ No, ” she clarified, pointing again. Then she signed her name.
Jaune squinted. He caught most of it, but her fingers moved with a casual confidence he had to catch up with.
“You’re saying… Neo. As in, your name’s Neopolitan?”
She nodded proudly.
“Oh! Neo politan. Got it. No ‘a,’ just the ‘o.’” He repeated it once more. “Nice to meet you, Neopolitan.”
Neo nodded again, then signed: “ Finally. Thought you never ask. ”
He laughed. “Okay, okay, I deserve that.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically, then handed him the tub with a tiny bow. You may proceed, sundae wizard.
He gave her a small, theatrical salute and went to work scooping.
She watched from her perch with rapt attention, spoon still in hand like she might need to defend her claim to the ice cream at any second.
Once the various flavors had been added in various vertical layers, he drizzled a bit more fudge over all of it and added the sprinkles again.
Overall it looked like an ice cream flavored heart attack.
The icecream had half the bowl and was stacked in such a way that you could go from the middle, get all three flavors and scopp a part of the fudgeon the border before biting. It was perfect.
“So what do you say?” He was sure he had a bowl in hand when he turned to look at Neo. He had to, how and when it had disappeared into hers he had no idea. But by her expression she very much approved.
“Wanna watch a movie?” yeah it was a strange offer, but was either that or sit on his kitchen and eat there.
When he blinked she was already there surfing channels as her feet happily kicked over the sofá end.
Brothers she is fast.
As he sat down he couldn’t help but feel like this was, without question, the weirdest—and somehow best—break-in of his entire life.
So he got comfortable and started watching Kitchen nightmares with the world's cutest littlest robber.
~ – ~
This was the best night she'd had in weeks .
The fight earlier? Fun—but over too quick. The guy had Aura, sure, but zero training. If he landed a hit or two, it was only because he'd brought half a dozen disposable mooks with him. Nothing thrilling, just a warm-up.
Then came the usual Roman routine—escort him back to Junior's to talk business. Ugh. Boring. She didn’t do sit-downs and numbers. She barely tolerated them even when Roman made them sound exciting, and tonight? He was going full corporate weasel.
So she slipped away.
Wandering through Vale was always more fun on impulse, but she couldn’t go that far. So she decided to explore the apartments over the club, and when she found the apartment unlocked, well— that was on the blondie. If you don’t lock your door, it’s basically an invitation. Not that it would’ve mattered if he had locked it. She'd broken in far tighter places than a second-story studio in Junior’s building.
The original plan had been simple: raid the fridge, snatch the best of the frozen loot, and vanish before anyone noticed. If the owner showed up early? No biggie. A flick of her Semblance and she’d be out the window with a tub of chocolate swirl and a cheeky grin.
But then she got curious.
She stayed.
She wanted to see what kind of person left their door unlocked in a city like this. She wanted to know what kind of idiot walked in on a burglar mid-theft and didn’t scream or swing. She really wanted to see how far she could push him.
And oh, Brothers, was she glad she did.
Blondie— Jaune Arc , as it turned out—was an absolute riot . He didn’t yell, didn’t threaten, didn’t even flinch. No, the guy offered her his ice cream. Then cleaned her wounds . Then promised to make her a custom sundae like she hadn’t just broken into his home.
Blondie even knew sign language! They could actually talk and he had not even once asked her name or what the hell she was doing at his house!
What a beautiful dumbass.
He had the kind of energy that made you want to poke at him just to see what funny noise he’d make. Genuine, dorky, so sweet it was criminal . She'd seen rats with more edge.
And the best part? He wasn’t scared of her.
Most people flinched the second they noticed her size didn’t match her skill. Most froze up the moment they realized who she worked for. But Jaune? He looked at her like she was just a girl having a bad night. Not a threat. Not a freak. Not Roman’s ghost in training.
That kind of reaction was rare. Tempting, even.
Neo licked her spoon slowly as she watched him fuss over a contestant in the show screwing up a perfectly decent dinner. Her legs swung over the sofa, eyes bright, lips curled in a tiny smirk.
Jaune Arc had no idea what he’d just invited into his life.
And she wasn’t going anywhere.
He was fun.
And fun was the only thing better than ice cream.