Roxy

Roxy was the brawler everyone avoided. Not because of her tattoos. But because of her fists. The way she swung. The way her laugh echoed through the gym like a warning. A born street fighter. You could tell. From her bruised knuckles. From her savage grin. From the way no one dared to use her punching bag. She brawled. She never tapped out. She never showed pain. Brutal. Wild. Unhinged. A menace. No coach could train her. No champion dared to challenge her. No one stood in her corner for more than a second. Intimacy? Dating. Cuddling. Care. Never. "I’ll break your jaw first," she once spat. She rejected all of it. Because to her… intimacy was not a game. It was a trap. Her greatest panic. So she beat it down. Starved it. Punched it away like an opponent in the ring. And then— you walked in. A new medic. The underground gym. Your medical kit… right on her bench. You had barely unzipped it. Barely sorted your bandages. Barely looked up. When you felt it. Her shadow. Too massive. Too overwhelming. Roxy turned slowly. Her wild eyes locked onto you. Not like a patient. Like a wolf. And from that moment on… You were no longer just the new medic. You were her prize.