Fated (Bloodhound x Eve (OC))

Better

"Such a filthy mouth. I have a better use for it."

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Eve rolled her shoulders and shuffled her feet at the edge of the forest, crunching the twigs and leaves underfoot. Today, she had woken up full of anxious energy, quickly rolling out of bed to get ready. She had bounded down the forest path with Bloodhound to wait for the transport to bring them to the city. It seemed like the ship was taking longer than usual to arrive, but when she checked her phone, only two minutes had passed. Time was crawling by.

Her increasing popularity in the games had awarded her a spot with Gunner in a photo shoot among the established Legends. The jump pad stunts she pulled with Octavio and Elliott last match had garnered a lot of attention from fans – though not all of it was the kind of recognition she wanted. Several edits of the trio had gone viral, including an embarrassing still-frame image of Eve someone had discovered within the drone video. The wind had displaced her jacket and pushed her shirt down, leaving a generous view of her cleavage on display. The photo wasn't overly revealing, but it definitely wasn't what she wanted to be known for.

Last night, Natalie had sent her a screenshot of a tabloid magazine cover that featured the image front and center. When Eve checked her social media feeds this morning, the picture scrolled across her screen more times than she would have preferred. She had quickly turned off the direct message feature of all of her accounts after receiving a few inappropriate offers and explicit pictures from fans.

Bloodhound had offered their support to her, but there was little they could actually do about the situation. They encouraged her to take a break from staring at her phone and, if she could not, to at least stay out of the comment sections. She'd wanted to fire back a snappy reply at the most obscene posts, but Eve knew if she reacted or made a big deal about it, it would only add fuel to the fire. The media ate that type of thing up, and she'd play right into their hand.

Though Bloodhound spent little time on their own social accounts, they, like Eve, were contractually obligated to maintain them. Their posts were infrequent and short, stilted updates that revealed nothing but were technically enough to satisfy the requirements set out by the Apex panel. The only extra attention they had received recently was due to the probing questions from Eve's interview and the speculation about their involvement with her. However, the media's rabid excitement had fizzled out due to Bloodhound's complete refusal to engage or respond to any of it.

Eve was grateful for the popularity boost, but wished it had been mainly due to her skill. Loba was often in a similar situation, over-sexualized and objectified. Instead of fighting it, the woman leaned into that image and turned it into a positive one while still maintaining her reputation as a top performer. Maybe that was the route to go – but the thought still made Eve's stomach turn.

She looked at her phone again and grumbled – only three more minutes had passed. Beside her, Bloodhound stood tall in their full set of battle gear. Their posture was straight and proud, yet they seemed comfortable. They made waiting patiently look easy and effortless. She chewed the inside of her cheek, her brow furrowed.

Bloodhound's hand descended onto her shoulder. "Easy, elskan," they said, their voice gently reprimanding. "I can see the worry that you bear. Meditate with me. It will ease your mind."

One corner of her mouth tugged down into a frown at the suggestion. She doubted she could stop her racing thoughts right now. Bloodhound had tried many times to help her find calm through reflection, but she often struggled with their teaching, having little patience for it. The lessons often derailed when she would tease and flirt, then Bloodhound's hands would wander under the guise of helping her into a relaxing position. Eventually, meditation would be abandoned as they focused on other, more physical ways to relieve their tension.