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Wrasslin Around (4k)
The air in the dojo is still, smelling of cedar and salt, providing a stark, focused backdrop for the tension between us. paris love stands across from me on the thick black mats, her eyes burning with a confidence that she hasn't quite earned yet. shes been vocal about her strength, claiming shes the one to finally knock the champion off her pedestal, and i cant help but offer a cold, knowing smirk as i adjust my gear. there are no ropes here to save her, no turnbuckles to hide behind, just ten minutes of open mat where i can show her exactly what "championship caliber" really means. as we circle each other, the silence is broken only by the rhythmic shuffle of our feet, and the second we lock up, she realizes that my grip is unlike anything shes ever encountered.
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