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1. Fantasy
After a long day of crawling through Bugbear caves, there was only one thing that Blake wanted to do, and that was finding her girlfriend and falling asleep on her.
Blake grumbled greetings as she passed through the adventuring group: hello Yang, yes I’ll clean my weapons tomorrow Ruby, my enchantments are still holding Weiss, can everything wait until tomorrow?
The moment she spotted Pyrrha, her beautiful, comfortable girlfriend, she shut off to the world. All that mattered was Pyrrha and her soothing soul by the campfire. She barely managed to avoid tripping over Nora’s hammer, and just dodged Jaune as Blake practically fell into Pyrrha’s lap.
“Long day?”
Such a wonderful voice, like honey to all four of Blake’s ears. Blake let out a low tone as a response.
“You can fall asleep on me if you want, sweetheart.” Blake looked up in time to see Pyrrha’s adoring smile, and she won’t admit it, but she melted inside. As a thank you, Blake leant up and placed a loving kiss on Pyrrha’s lips.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Blake. Go to sleep.”
And so she did.
2. Sci Fi
Crescent-9 was a beautiful moon. Blake and Pyrrha had landed an hour ago, something about an illegal mercenary presence, but Pyrrha couldn’t help but be astonished at the landscape. The landscape of the moon was a brilliant blue hue, and from where she was standing, Pyrrha could see the planet that Crescent-9 orbited.
It was astonishing; a sight that she would never bore of.
Pyrrha felt Blake’s mag boots behind her before she saw her, the muted howling atmosphere being the only thing loud enough to get through their sturdy helmets.
“Quite a view, isn’t it?” Blake’s monotone voice came through the comms.
“Each planet we go to, each moon we go to, each view keeps getting better and better.” Pyrrha responded. “I’m glad I get to share it with you.”
At this, behind her helmet, Blake blushed. Pyrrha didn’t leave it at that though, she grabbed Blake’s glove and pulled her in close.
“Thank you, Blake.”
Blake pressed her helmet against Pyrrha’s, attempting to get as close as possible. “For what?”
“For loving me.”
Giving Pyrrha a small smile, Blake responded, “of course,” and closed her eyes. The mercenaries can wait a few more minutes.
3. Bookstore
Blake always saw her every Tuesday, without fail. She’d always be in the romance section, a few pages deep in a novel before purchasing it. Blake always found fellow bookworms attractive, and knowing someone was just as a prolific reader as her made her heart flutter.
Blake had tried many times to approach her, but she knew how frustrating it was to interrupt someone mid-paragraph. By the time she gained enough courage to approach the stranger, she had left with her new purchase.
Now it was time for her last resort: an indirect direct attack. The following Tuesday, she carefully followed her around the bookstore, and when she had paid for her book, Blake slipped her infatuation a note into her bag.
Sonnets were not Blake’s strength, but for this stranger that had struck her very being, Blake was more than willing to try.
Hiding my bravery in my rotten smoke,
My tongue-tied cowardice with much regret,
Words I write replacing words I choke,
Hoping that courting you is no fret.
That thy beauty lays upon my soul,
Your image I loved, I view in thee,
I am but a simple prole, made whole,
Blessed by sheer existence of she.
Was autumn jealous of your hair?
Nature itself coveting your eyes
To thee, darling, I lay myself bare
In this paper prison, a scrawled disguise
Fate laid by his bow and fell asleep,
So I ask of you, is a date too steep?
And Yang always called Blake a romantic. As soon as the note was delivered, Blake made a hasty exit. She thought herself a coward, but she was a patient coward.
When Blake was slipped a note the following Tuesday asking her to a coffee date, reacting only in time to see a red ponytail disappear behind the bookshelf, Blake figured that she’d be getting more use out of her poetry skills for months to come.
4. Tech support
The door jingled as Pyrrha stepped into Rose Repairs. For the fifth time that month, Pyrrha’s laptop had died on her. At this rate, she might as well buy a new laptop altogether, but she refused to give up on the thing.
“Again?”
And there was that voice. A voice that Pyrrha was incredibly attracted to, not that she’d admit it. Instead, she blushed, and walked up to the front desk. “Hi Blake. And I’m pretty sure it’s not the battery, this time. Nor was it Nora induced.”
Blake looked away from the desktop computer she was at. “Was it hot before it broke?”
Not as hot as you. “The usual temperature.”
“Did it boot up?”
“It did not. I get to that BIOS thing before it gives up altogether.”
“Hard drive or OS issue, then.” Blake took the laptop, slipping it into a ziplock bag with a label on it. “I already have your details, so you’re free to leave, Pyrrha.”
Pyrrha swallowed, her hands getting clammy of what she had to ask next. She supposed this is what she got for coming to Nora for romantic advice, but it was far better than Jaune’s guitar-and-serenade plan.
“I have one more issue, Blake.”
Blake turned back to her, and bit her lip in thought, and God did Pyrrha want to kiss those lips right about now.
“I don’t have a date with you, can you fix that?”
In response, Blake went bright red, the blush going all the way up to her ears. Despite that, though, she smiled, like something she’d suspected to be real was confirmed. “I’d love to, Pyrrha.”
5. James Bond
Blake crashed through the window, feeling weightless for a brief second before landing hard on the pavement. Shards of glass sprinkled around her as she reorientated herself. Her target, one Byron Shaw, was fleeing the scene, running against oncoming London pedestrian traffic.
The only advantage that Bryon had was his large frame: he was able to shove through the wayfarers like a bull stampeding through a busy street.
Blake didn’t have that benefit though. Quickly, she took off, her boots pounding the pavement as she sprinted after Bryon. Cusses and complaints filled her ears as she dodged past, some at her, some at her target.
As the street became more packed, Bryon swerved left, pushing over a deliveryman to duck into an alleyway. Oranges scattered as Blake jumped over the chaos, her nose curling up in disgust as she entered the alleyway. She smelt worse things during her recent stint in America, sure, but it didn’t stop her from being disgusted.
A gunshot rang out, and Blake ducked behind the nearby dumpster. The only casualty was some poor brickwork, and Blake thanked whatever Gods and/or Goddesses that may or may not be out there that Bryon was a terrible shot. She brushed off some brick debris off her suit, drew her silenced pistol, and focused.
In between the screams of the general public, and the dripping sounds of the poorly kept pipework, Blake could hear Bryon’s heavy footsteps as he edged further and further away.
She inhaled, popped out, exhaled and fired… and hit his shoulder as he shunted a door open.
Damn.
At least he’d be easier to track. So Blake did, following his route down the alleyway and into the door shoved open. It turned out to be the back room of a bar, poorly lit and smelling faintly of lime.
Blake heard a scuffle. Kicking open the door, she found Bryon holding a gun to a head of a redhead.
Levelling her pistol at Bryon, she said in her most calm voice, “put down the gun, Bryon.”
“I won’t shoot her if you put yours down.” To his credit, he wasn’t shaking, and managed to keep his stare even on Blake. To Blake’s surprise though, the redhead didn’t even looked panicked, she just kept her hands up and went with Bryon’s motions.
“What’s stopping you from shooting her when I lower my gun?”
Bryon was about to respond when the sound of a car screeching to a terrible halt was heard outside, casing him to focus away from Blake.
Faster than Blake could squeeze the trigger, the redhead responded, grabbing his wrist at such a painful angle that Bryon was forced to drop his pistol. The moment he lost his grip, she spun around, elbowing him in his face with all her weight.
This left Bryon yelping in pain, but she still wasn’t done. With her momentum still going, she spun around again, this time lashing her leg out. Her boot connected with his face; his face connected to the bar. Bryon was out cold.
With the thunk still ringing in their ears, the stranger sharply inhaled. “I’m sorry!”
Blake holstered her weapon, her eyebrows raised. She was impressed. “Are you okay?” Blake did a quick once over to be sure: she was built like an Amazon and just as muscled, but showed no injuries. Between her body and her fighting prowess, Blake was more than just a little bit attracted.
“I’m fine, I’m just,” she blew out a breath, “who are you?”
“Belladonna.” Blake answered. “Blake Belladonna. You?”
“Pyrrha Nikos.”
“Well, Pyrrha,” Blake perched herself on the stool next to Bryon. “You look like you need a martini, shaken, not stirred. Care to join me?”