This one-shot is dedicated to PartFootball, /r/RWBY moderator and Pussy Magnet enthusiast extraordinaire. There's one more chapter soon to come, so stay tuned!

Blake Belladonna was not having a good day.

Blake was briskly walking back home, coffee and papers in hand, with a very unwelcoming scowl on her face. She had just gotten out of a long, frustrating meeting with her editor that morning. The faunus had been working on a novel for the past few months, an epic tale of romance, intrigue, and action about two lovers from warring families that sought to find their own peace among all the hatred. Blake stayed up many a late night, tormenting herself over each chapter. However, her editor did not take the story seriously, citing all the… "adult" scenes within, and told Blake that she ought to tone down the scope of the romance. The nerve of that guy! I bet he just hasn't gotten any lately, she told herself in an attempt to ameliorate herself. But that was not the only misfortune that day, no, no, no – on her way to that dreadful meeting, the bus she usually took was running late, so she almost did not make it. She had made a point to look her best just so the editor might look at her more favorably, but in the rush for time, she ended up looking quite disheveled. And to top it all off, the coffee Blake just got to calm her nerves was the wrong kind – she only ever drinks hazelnut lattes, but when she took a sip of it, it turned out to be vanilla. Blake groaned. Great, is nothing going to go my way today?

If there was some sort of higher power governing the world, it certainly had quite the cheeky sense of humor, for right as she rounded the corner, something crashed into. Blake was knocked over, but she managed to land somewhat neatly, thanks to her cat-like reflexes. Everything she was carrying, on the other hand, did not – her notes were scattered around her, and the coffee spilled all over her white blouse. This was it. This was the last straw for Blake. She had no idea who or what was responsible for this, but boy, was she ready to tear someone a new one.

"What the hell? Watch where you're going, you fu-" Blake started, but when she looked up at the perpetrator, she had no more words. The woman before her was quite simply the most beautiful angel she had ever set eyes upon. She had long, silky red hair that was tied up into a sporty ponytail and emerald eyes that almost seemed to pierce through the downed faunus. She wore a sporty getup – red shorts, white tank, and a bronze headband – so Blake figured that she must have been some sort of runner. She certainly has the figure for it, Blake silently noted as she quickly scanned the athlete's body. However, she quickly snapped herself out of her dream-like daze to properly take in what was going on.

Despite the fact that she was not the one knocked onto the ground, this woman was clearly in more distress than Blake was. "I. Am. So. Sorry! Here, let me help you up," she exclaimed, extending her hand out to her. The writer accepted it and was pulled up from the ground with a surprising amount of force. "I'm so sorry about this! I get really into my afternoon runs sometimes, so forgive me for m- oh my gosh, I knocked all your stuff out of your hands! I'll pick this all up for you, don't worry! It's my fault, anyway." Not a second later, she did just as she said and quickly went to grab all the papers strewn about.

It was almost amusing to Blake to see this flustered young woman being this worked up over what happened. Sure, she was mad for a moment, but her anger quickly subsided when she laid eyes on this angel of a person. "Thanks, but don't beat yourself over it – I wasn't paying attention to where I was going myself," the faunus said, attempting to calm down this sweet girl, who had just finished collecting all the loose sheets and stacked them all up neatly.

"No, no, no, you're the one you got pushed over, so I shou- oh dear, I got coffee all over your shirt!" The redhead held a hand over her mouth in shock of what she had done. "I'm so sorry about that!"

"Oh, it's fine," Blake said with a disarming laugh. "It's an old one that I never really liked, anyway." This was a lie – she had just bought it a week ago in preparation for her meeting with the editor, but considering how upset this woman seemed to be, Blake decided that this was a minor detail. However, the runner continued to sulk.

"Still, I made you look like a mess…" All of a sudden, her face brightened up with a smile. "Oh! Tell you what: how about you come over to my place and I can wash your shirt for you! You'll have to borrow something of mine in the meantime, but you look about my size, so you should be able to find something suitable. Oh, and I can make you some coffee to make up for the one I made you spill!"

Blake's eyes widened in surprise. Well, that was unexpected. Granted, this woman seemed like the kind of person to genuinely care about other people and try to make up for any slights done against them, but what she just proposed was almost too much. Still, the faunus did not have anything planned for the next few hours, thanks to the editor turning away her story, and it would be nice to not walk around with a giant coffee stain on her clothes. Plus, it helped that the redhead was absolutely gorgeous, and who knows, maybe she can get to know her a little better. Blake felt her face warm up just a bit at the thought but quickly repressed the reaction.

"Sure, I'll take you up on that offer."

"Excellent! I don't live too far from here, so it won't take long!" The runner's face practically glowed with her smile, and she started to head back from where she came. Blake followed alongside of her, not saying much for a bit. She was a quiet one by nature, preferring to observe life from a distance, but in this current circumstance, that would simply not do.

The faunus decided to strike up a conversation. "By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Oh, where are my manners! I'm Pyrrha. What about you?"

"Pyrrha, Pyrrha…" the writer said wistfully, tilting back her head in thought. "Where have heard that name before?" This world is full of uncommon names, but Blake was almost certain that this was not the first time she had encountered that name.

The redhead sighed. "That's probably because I'm Pyrrha Nikos, the 'Champion of Mistral University,'" she said with little enthusiasm. "Name any track and field event, and I've probably won a medal for the school in it."

"Ah, I must've read your name in a newspaper or something," Blake said plainly. "I've never found an interest in sports, so you'll have to forgive me for not immediately wanting your autograph." Pyrrha laughed warmly at this comment – well, I must be doing something right. "I'm Blake, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Blake," she responded cheerfully. "And I wasn't planning on giving out autographs or anything – if I had to be perfectly honest, I hated that. I never liked being known by everyone in my university and hometown, because all they ever knew me as was the 'Champion.'"

"I see. What do you do here, then?"

"Well, as much as I hate to say it, I've gotten so good at being an athlete that it's hard for me to do anything else. Still, I managed to land a position as a physical therapist at a clinic downtown, so that's kind of a nice change." Pyrrha then turned to the faunus. "That's enough about me, though – I still don't know anything about you, and I was the one who knocked you over earlier! I should really stop rambling."

Blake snickered lightly. "You're fine, I just don't really talk much to begin with, so don't worry about that. I'm kind of… in between things right now, but I'm a writer."

The redhead's green eyes sparkled. "Ooo, that's so interesting! What kind of writing do you do?"

"Well…" As much as she refused to admit it, the majority of what Blake wrote was what many would classify as "smut." She hated that term, though, as it had a connotation of poor quality and pandering to the lowest common denominator. Sure, she's written a number of sex scenes before, but Blake firmly believes that they were all in good taste and far better written than many of the "bestsellers" on the market today. Of course, she could not quite tell Pyrrha all of this, so she found a better answer. "I write romance novels, mostly, though I like to add in combat sequences as well."

"Is that what you have in those papers?"

"Y-yes, but's it's still incomplete," the writer blurted out nervously. "You'll have to wait a while longer before it's published." If I can even get it published, she mentally added.

"Ah, right, of course. Can't rush art, right?" Pyrrha offered. "Oh, look, we're already here! Come, this won't take long."

As she watched the redhead runner enter the building, Blake wondered what else this day had in store for her. She did not like how it started, but she sure liked where it was going.

EDIT: missed some tense errors. Should be all gone!