Marine and Emma Spar!

[Weonna]

Emma immediately released the hold as soon as she felt the tap, rolling off Marine and sitting beside her with a quick, relieved exhale.

“Ah—good job, Marine!”

she said, brushing a few strands of hair from her face and smiling,

“You lasted way longer than most do when I get that Crossface in!”

She stretched her arms overhead, then turned toward Marine with that cheerful, slightly teacher-like expression she sometimes borrowed from Alanna.

“But...”

she began, pointing a gloved finger for emphasis,

“if my submissions hurt like that, then you’d better be ready for Christina’s. She’s got this scary way of twisting your body just right to make everything burn twice as much. Her holds aren’t just painful—they drain your strength little by little.”

Emma got on her knees and gestured animatedly as she continued, the enthusiasm overtaking her.

“You can’t give her an inch! You gotta move fast, use your power, and don’t get caught. Once she locks you in—game over!”

But as Emma kept talking, caught up in her own cheerful lecture, her guard was completely down. She didn’t even notice Marine’s muscles twitching, her opponent beginning to stir behind her. Emma was still smiling and gesturing, saying,

“See, if you let her get around behind you like—”

She didn’t finish the sentence. She was too busy being the perfect, unsuspecting target for whatever Marine had planned next.

[ScylliasExoter]

Sweet relief flooded Marine’s back and neck when Emma released the crossface. She laid there face down clutching her lower back. The pain was incredible. And Emma was right. Christina would be worse. Marine turned to look at Emma as the bubbly Canadian imparted her wisdom. And Marine got the lesson loud and clear.
“Never trust your opponent. Not even your friends.”
Marine pushed up off the ground and pounced on Emma’s perfectly exposed back. She slid her right arm under Emma’s throat and attempted to lock in a sleeper hold!
“Especially the ones who smile before they strike.”

[Weonna]

Emma barely had time to blink before Marine’s shadow swept over her.

“Huh—?”

was all she managed before Marine’s arm wrapped under her chin, tightening smoothly across her throat.

“Eep!”

Emma squeaked as Marine’s legs hooked around her waist from behind, pulling her in snug. The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise, her hands instantly grabbing at Marine’s forearm—but the hold was already locked in deep.

Emma’s cheeks puffed out adorably as she kicked her boots lightly against the mat.

“Mmmph… M-Marine… no fair…”

she mumbled, her voice soft and airy as she squirmed. But instead of panicking, Emma did the most Emma thing possible—she settled right into Marine’s hold, her back pressing against Marine’s chest like a sleepy kitten trapped by a stubborn hug.

Her fingers tugged weakly at the arm around her neck as her breathing grew shallow.

“You’re… ngh… getting good…”

she murmured, her head tilting slightly as the pressure increased. Her body relaxed little by little, her motions slowing as her legs stretched out along the mat.

Marine felt Emma’s resistance melt into gentle, limp warmth as the rookie’s eyes fluttered. Emma gave one last soft, breathy sound—half a whine, half a sigh—before her arms slipped from Marine’s forearm and fell to the canvas with a quiet tap.

Her head leaned back against Marine’s shoulder, lips parted just slightly, her expression peaceful and utterly trusting as consciousness slipped away.

Within seconds, Emma had gone completely still in Marine’s sleeper—out cold, but looking impossibly cute while doing so.

[ScylliasExoter]

Marine was exuberant at getting Emma in a sleeper hold. She was still learning so the adrenaline rush of ensnaring her opponent was palpable. She first squeezed Emma’s torso with her thighs, but that proved to be unnecessary. Emma’s resistance quickly crumbled and she fell further into Marine’s grasp. A few side to side jerks of Emma’s head and Emma melted into Marine’s chest and stomach.

Spoiler

Marine was grinning ear to ear as she kept choking a helpless Emma. A moan escaped her lips, a result of fantasizing doing this to Christina. Marine rested her chin on Emma’s head after the Golden Girl went limp in her arms. Satisfied her opponent was unconscious, Marine unclasped her supporting hand from Emma’s head and grabbed Emma’s arm. She raised Emma’s hand and let go. The Golden Girl’s arm dropped limply by her side. She did so a second time. Then a third. Emma’s arm fell like a lead weight against her thigh. She was out cold.

Marine gave a final squeeze before releasing the sleeper. She cradled Emma against her chest, affectionately tending to her friend and sister’s girlfriend. Shit. Her sister’s girlfriend. Marine wasn’t sure which would make Alanna madder: choking her girlfriend out or doing so so… intimately. It was perhaps for the best Alanna was out getting lunch.

[Weonna]

Emma remained nestled against Marine’s chest exactly as she’d fallen...soft, warm, and completely limp, her breathing slow and even. Her head rested on Marine’s shoulder without a hint of tension, blonde hair spilling messily over Marine’s arm. Her lips were parted in the faintest, quietest sigh, giving her the look of someone peacefully napping rather than someone just choked out seconds ago.

Her arms lay slack at her sides, one hand curled loosely as if she’d fallen asleep holding nothing at all. Her boots pointed outward, toes relaxed, legs folded gently in Marine’s lap. Every tiny rise and fall of her chest was calm, steady, and irresistibly adorable—like she’d drifted into the most comfortable, unbothered dream imaginable.

Occasionally, a tiny twitch flickered through her fingers or her lashes fluttered ever so slightly, but she didn’t stir. Emma was deep, deep in dreamland.

Her expression was peaceful. No strain, no discomfort—just the serene, cute softness she always had when asleep on Alanna’s couch after movie nights.

In Marine’s arms, Emma looked less like a downed sparring partner and more like a sleeping kitten who’d curled up in the safest spot in the gym… completely unaware of the chaos she had just given Marine heart palpitations over.

For now, the Golden Girl was utterly, undeniably out cold—helpless, and blissfully unaware of absolutely everything around her.

[ScylliasExoter]

Upon releasing Emma, Marine sat back and caught her breath. The unconscious Golden Girl rested against her chest. Marine cradled and patted Emma’s head as her breathing relaxed. She was by no means unfit, but wrestling shape was different from most other shapes. And the thrill of potentially doing this to Christina helped make it even more intense. Marine rested and pondered strategy while being a pillow for her sister’s girlfriend. A sister who was taking her sweet time.
***

Spoiler

Alanna Antoinette was indeed taking the scenic route for lunch. She knew Marine and probably Emma had started training late, so she had time to kill getting them lunch. Truth be told, she needed it. Marine was training like a maniac for her match with Christina and Alanna was right along with her. Alanna was exhausted doing the training of two people and needed the break. So here she was looking at pastries and gourmet coffee after having a curry dish in a quaint-looking, French-inspired cafe run by a charming old man, a college student, and his cat.

[Weonna]

Veronika Váradi

Veronika had been in the café long before Alanna walked in—lounging at a window seat with a demure cup of tea, sunglasses perched on her head, posture perfect and predatory. When she saw the Antoinette sister wander in, relaxed and unsuspecting, her dark red lips curled into a sly smile.

“Ah… Alanna,”

she murmured to herself in her thick Hungarian accent.

“Still as beautiful as ever… and still so easily distracted.”

She watched Alanna enjoy her curry, watched her admire the pastries, watched her shoulders sag from exhaustion. Not the same sharp fighter Veronika used to tangle with under dim lights and cheap venues. But still… her first real lover, her first real heartbreak.

So when Alanna excused herself and headed toward the café restroom, Veronika followed, silent as a shadow.

The moment Alanna stepped inside and the door swung closed—

Veronika’s arm looped smoothly around her neck from behind, forearm snug under the chin, the hold firm but nowhere near dangerous. The other hand pressed lightly against Alanna’s hip, guiding her back against Veronika’s body.

“Shhh… nyugi, szerelmem,”

she whispered, her accent rich and unmistakable.

“Do not scream. I am only saying hello.”

Veronika leaned close to her ear, smirking.

“You train your little kistestvér so hard, hm? Marine is lucky. You were never this patient with me.”

Her grip tightened just enough to remind Alanna who held the advantage.

“And Emma…”

Veronika chuckled.

“I see she inherited the spot I used to warm.”

She tilted her head, brushing a strand of Alanna’s hair aside with her cheek as she spoke.

“Tell me, Alanna… does she know how easily you melt when someone holds you just right?”

Her voice dropped lower—not sensual, but teasing and razor-sharp, the way only Veronika could weaponize tenderness.

“Relax. I am not here to hurt you,”

she purred.

“I just missed watching you squirm.”

She eased the hold slightly, letting Alanna breathe while still trapped.

“Now then… shall we talk like old friends?”

[ScylliasExoter]

Alanna walked into the bathroom expecting to touch up her makeup, then she experienced a full on blast from the past. She felt herself wrapped up in a chokehold and began struggling until she heard the voice, a voice she'd never forget. It was Alanna's ex-girlfriend and first flame Veronika Váradi. All resistance ceased. Alanna surrendered to Veronika's clutches. This was the woman who first introduced Alanna to pro wrestling. Before Veronika she was a pretty little closeted rich girl socialite. She went to a bar that had an afterparty to a wrestling show. The promotion had a jello wrestling ring and an offer to wrestle one of the stars in exchange for money. Alanna paid the max tier and chose Veronika, who thoroughly smoked her. Alanna never felt more alive, both with the wrestling and being with a woman after the bar. A feeling she felt again now, to her great shame.
"Veronika," she said after a long pause. Her head was swimming. Veronika knew just how to hold her, and Alanna wanted to melt into her. She felt like she was in training again. And a part of her wanted Veronika to keep the hold, but it would be hard to converse like this.
"Yes, we can talk."
Alanna gently tapped Veronika's arm, signalling her submission.

[Weonna]

Veronika felt the light tap against her arm—a gesture she remembered well...

A signal that Alanna, even now, still understood the language they once shared.

Slowly, almost ceremonially, Veronika loosened the hold. Her arm uncurled from Alanna’s neck, sliding away with a smoothness that made clear she could have kept her trapped if she wished. She stepped back just enough to give Alanna room to breathe, but not enough to break the closeness of the moment.

“Jól van… good girl,”

she murmured softly, her Hungarian accent warm but unmistakably teasing.

“Still so quick to submit when you recognize the hands around you.”

Veronika’s smile softened. Not cruel or mocking…just nostalgic.

“It has been a long time, Alanna.”

Veronika crossed her arms, leaning casually against the bathroom sink.

“Do you remember that awful little jello ring? I swear I still find glitter in my old boots from that night.”

She shook her head with a laugh—not unkind, but sharp with clarity.

“You were terrified. And excited. And absolutely determined to impress me.”

Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“And afterwards… you asked me a hundred questions about footwork, submissions, how to hit the ropes. You begged me to train you. That night? That was the first time I saw the real you. The closeted girl who wanted more than fancy parties and expensive wine.”

She paused.

“Not the girl your parents wanted. The girl I wanted.”

There was no romantic sweetness in her tone—just the truth, delivered with Veronika’s usual blend of intensity and precision.

But then her expression shifted when she continued:

“…And now you give your heart to Emma.”

The way she said Emma’s name carried curiosity but no venom.

“I have seen her. Your little Golden Girl.”

Veronika tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“Bright eyes. Brighter smile. Too trusting… but strong in her own way.”

Her lips curled into a cunning smile.

“And she clearly adores you.”

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering—not sensual, but cuttingly perceptive.

“I am not here to take you back, Alanna. I am not a ghost returning to haunt your love life.”

Then, with a sly tilt of her head:

“…But I am curious.”

Her eyes locked on Alanna’s.

“What does Emma give you… that I did not?”