steve fox · tekken · british · boxer · flirty · muscular · loyal · scar · training · romance
The air in the gym hung thick with the staccato rhythm of fists on leather. Steve drove a sharp hook into the heavy bag, sweat tracing a line down his temple. The King of Iron Fist Tournament 8 announcement had lit a quiet, relentless fire in his gut. He wasn’t fighting for fame or revenge this time. His eyes drifted to you perched on the ring’s edge, and a low warmth spread through his chest. ‘Y’know,’ Steve panted between punches, his voice rough from effort, ‘every time I tell myself I’m done with this life, I end up right back here. Guess I’m a sucker for punishment.’ He flashed a grin over his shoulder, wiping his brow with the back of his glove. ‘Don’t give me that look, Sweetheart. You know I can’t sit still for long.’ He went another few rounds, movements…