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ohtobealady · 3 months

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Love your writing so much, may I be a bit cheeky and ask for another one? Would you do 'future'? <3

Oooo be as cheeky as you like, friend! This word was hard for me! I don’t know why. You deserve a better one. But I’m glad for the exercise!

—————,’—————

Future

They both laughed at the way Tiaa rounded the tree, snapping at the ball, pieces of grass flying from her abrupt change in direction.

The children called out the dog’s name and ran after her, the heavy cricket ball firmly lodged in her teeth. She looked as if she was smiling as she bolted out of Tom’s reach.

She heard as Edith laughed harder still when Bertie turned to them, his shirtsleeves rolled, his thin hair flopping over his forehead, and shrugged in defeat. George, Mary saw, similarly forfeited. She watched her son’s blond head drop back, his square chin lifting to the sky, before he loosely slung his cricket bat to the ground.

“Chasing her won’t do any good,” she called to them all. “If you ignore her, she’ll come to you.”

But Mary’s advice was largely ignored, and she and Edith looked on as Tom, Bertie, and the children tried to woo the dog, sweetly sing-songing her name and promising her all manner of treats.

Mary sighed and sank further into her chair. Beside her Edith laughed into her glass of lemonade, and Mary could see that she tracked Bertie’s movements before she quickly looked to her, catching her eye. Edith’s brows furrowed, and Mary knew Edith sensed the quiet disappointment that Mary was trying her best to hide away.

After all, Edith knew her. She always seemed to know her better than anyone else, for better or worse.

“What is it?” Edith asked, smiling, and Mary shook her head.

She looked away and across the lawn. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Edith pressed. “You’ve been very quiet since this morning.”

“Well, it really should be nothing. I wanted it after all.”

At this Edith angled towards her, the wicker chair creaking slightly amongst the laughter on the grass before them.

“Henry?”

Mary nodded, but she didn’t look at her sister. She couldn’t. She kept her eyes trained on her mother’s parasol bobbing along in the distance. “It’s difficult. I’ve asked him to claim adultery so that it can go ahead easily.”

“And will he?”

Mary still watched, far beyond them on the gravel, as her papa lifted his head and laughed at something Mama must’ve said. His hair looked so much grayer in the sun. She drew in a breath. “Yes. After all, how could it not be true? We’ve hardly seen one another in months.”

“That may not mean anything—-“

But Mary shook her head, and she looked at her sister. “I think it does. Even if it doesn’t mean adultery.” She lowered her eyes and smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt. “Anyway, I’ve got the documents now. They came in the morning post. It’s only a matter of telling Papa before we proceed.”

“Oh, Mary.” Edith turned away from her, and Mary assumed she searched out their father as well, closer to them, Mama’s fingers clutching at the bend of his elbow. “I wish there was a better way. Seems unfair to have to place fault on someone in a divorce. Everyone’s unhappy enough as it is.”

Mary tipped her head. She agreed.

“How do you suppose Papa will react?”

“I don’t know. He said he worries for me. He doesn’t want me to be alone,” Mary answered. She looked and saw her parents were nearer, but had paused. Mama’s parasol blocked her view of their faces, but she saw the way they stood still together, at a distance from their family. She saw the way their feet moved to face each other, and Mary looked away. “He just can’t understand that I already am.”

In her periphery, Mary noticed that Edith had looked to their parents now as well. And eventually, when the silence had gone on for a few moments more, she turned to Edith who still watched across the lawn as Mama and Papa began to move again towards them. They were smiling. “No. No one with that kind of luck could understand.”

Mary sighed. “Not just luck, Edith.” They both watched their parents now, and Mary felt her lips soften into a smile. “They decided to want each other. And in the end, I deserve to be wanted, too.”

#cobert drabbles #one word prompts!#thank you!!!

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tradedmiami · 11 months

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SALE IMAGE: David Olney & Thasunda Brown Duckett DATE: 10/31/2023 ADDRESS: 6201 Gunn Highway MARKET: Tampa ASSET TYPE: Multifamily BUYER: Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association (TIAA) (@TIAA) - Thasunda Brown Duckett (@Thasunda) SELLER: Berkshire Residential Investments (@BerkshireResi) - David Olney SALE PRICE: $58,000,000 UNITS: 264 ~ PPU: $219,697 NOTE: The 264-unit Berkshires at Citrus Park in Tampa sold for $58 million to an entity linked to the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association pension fund. The property, located at 6201 Gunn Highway, was acquired from Berkshire Residential Investments, reflecting strong investment activity in the Tampa Bay region despite broader economic challenges in multifamily real estate. #Miami #RealEstate #tradedmia #MIA #Tampa #Multifamily #BerkshireResidentialInvestments #DavidOlney #TeachersInsuranceandAnnuityAssociation #TIAA #ThasundaBrownDuckett

#Miami #RealEstate #tradedmia #MIA #Tampa #Multifamily #BerkshireResidentialInvestments #DavidOlney #TeachersInsuranceandAnnuityAssociation #TIAA #ThasundaBrownDuckett

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shiroganeryo · 1 year

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Comeback of the Dazatsu kitties! My spouse, Mr.Tiaa, drew them for @dazatsuweek ❤️‍🩹🐱🐯💝 Really happy that he got to participate despite being so busy ´v` I’m his official reposter for Tumblr, so please do not repost; support the original instead!

#dazatsuweek2023 Day 8: Free Day I took the chance to draw my cat designs again! 🐱🐱 Thank you for hosting the event, it was very enjoyable~ #dazatsu #太敦

Please support his art by checking the original tweet here!

#dazatsu #dazushi #dazai osamu #nakajima atsushi #dazatsuweek2023 #I forgot to repost until now 💦💦💦#kitties coupleeee 💖#tiaa art #dazatsu kitties

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eretzyisrael · 4 months

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BY PARK MACDOUGALD

The “movement,” in turn, while it recruits from among students and other self-motivated radicals willing to put their bodies on the line, relies heavily on the funding of progressive donors and nonprofits connected to the upper reaches of the Democratic Party. Take the epicenter of the nationwide protest movement, Columbia University. According to reporting in the New York Post, the Columbia encampment was principally organized by three groups: Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP), Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP), and Within Our Lifetime (WOL). Let’s take each in turn.

JVP is, in essence, the “Jewish”-branch of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement, backed by the usual big-money progressive donors—including some, like the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, that were instrumental in selling Obama’s Iran Deal to the public. JVP and its affiliated political action arm, JVP Action, have received at least $650,000 from various branches of George Soros’ philanthropic empire since 2017, $441,510 from the Kaphan Foundation (founded by early Amazon employee Sheldon Kaphan), $340,000 from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, and smaller amounts from progressive donors such as the Quitiplas Foundation, according to reporting from the New York Post and NGO Monitor, a pro-Israel research institute. JVP has also received nearly $1.5 million from various donor-advised funds—which allow wealthy clients to give anonymously through their financial institutions—run through the charitable giving arms of Fidelity Investments, Charles Schwab, Morgan Stanley, Vanguard, and TIAA, according to NGO Monitor’s review of those institutions’ tax documents.

SJP, by contrast, is an outgrowth of the Islamist networks dissolved during the U.S. government’s prosecution of the Holy Land Foundation (HLF) and related charities for fundraising for Hamas. SJP is a subsidiary of an organization called American Muslims for Palestine (AMP); SJP in fact has no “formal corporate structure of its own but operates as AMP’s campus brand,” according to a lawsuit filed last week against AJP Educational Fund, the parent nonprofit of AMP. Both AMP and SJP were founded by the same man, Hatem Bazian, a Palestinian academic who formerly fundraised for KindHearts, an Islamic charity dissolved in 2012 pursuant to a settlement with the U.S. Treasury, which froze the group’s assets for fundraising for Hamas (KindHearts did not admit wrongdoing in the settlement). And several of AMP’s senior leaders are former fundraisers for HLF and related charities, according to November congressional testimony from former U.S. Treasury official Jonathan Schanzer. An ongoing federal lawsuit by the family of David Boim, an American teenager killed in a Hamas terrorist attack in 1996, goes so far as to allege that AMP is a “disguised continuance” and “legal alter-ego” of the Islamic Association for Palestine, was founded with startup money from current Hamas official Musa Abu Marzook and dissolved alongside HLF. AMP has denied it is a continuation of IAP.

Today, however, National SJP is legally a “fiscal sponsorship” of another nonprofit: a White Plains, New York, 501(c)(3) called the WESPAC Foundation. A fiscal sponsorship is a legal arrangement in which a larger nonprofit “sponsors” a smaller group, essentially lending it the sponsor’s tax-exempt status and providing back-office support in exchange for fees and influence over the sponsorship’s operations. For legal and tax purposes, the sponsor and the sponsorship are the same entity, meaning that the sponsorship is relieved of the requirement to independently disclose its donors or file a Form 990 with the IRS. This makes fiscal sponsorships a “convenient way to mask links between donors and controversial causes,” according to the Capital Research Center. Donors, in other words, can effectively use nonprofits such as WESPAC to obscure their direct connections to controversial causes.

Something of the sort appears to be happening with WESPAC. Run by the market researcher Howard Horowitz, WESPAC reveals very little about its donors, although scattered reporting and public disclosures suggest that the group is used as a pass-through between larger institutions and pro-Palestinian radicals. Since 2006, for instance, WESPAC has received more than half a million in donations from the Elias Foundation, a family foundation run by the private equity investor James Mann and his wife. WESPAC has also received smaller amounts from Grassroots International (an “environmental” group heavily funded by Thousand Currents), the Sparkplug Foundation (a far-left group funded by the Wall Street fortune of Felice and Yoram Gelman), and the Bafrayung Fund, run by Rachel Gelman, an heir to the Levi Strauss fortune and the sister of Democratic Rep. Dan Goldman. (A self-described “abolitionist,” Gelman was featured in a 2020 New York Times feature on “The Rich Kids Who Want to Tear Down Capitalism.”) In 2022, WESPAC also received $97,000 from the Tides Foundation, the grant-making arm of the Tides Nexus.

WESPAC, however, is not merely the fiscal sponsor of the Hamas-linked SJP but also the fiscal sponsor of the third group involved in organizing the Columbia protests, Within Our Lifetime (WOL), formerly known as New York City SJP. Founded by the Palestinian American lawyer Nerdeen Kiswani, a former activist with the Hunter College and CUNY chapters of SJP, WOL has emerged over the past seven months as perhaps the most notorious antisemitic group in the country, and has been banned from Facebook and Instagram for glorifying Hamas. A full list of the group’s provocations would take thousands of words, but it has been the central organizing force in the series of “Flood”-themed protests in New York City since Oct. 7, including multiple bridge and highway blockades, a November riot at Grand Central Station, the vandalism of the New York Public Library, and protests at the Rockefeller Center Christmas-tree lighting. In addition to their confrontational tactics, WOL-led protests tend to have a few other hallmarks. These include eliminationist rhetoric directed at the Jewish state—such as Arabic chants of “strike, strike, Tel Aviv”; the prominent display of Hezbollah flags and other insignia of explicitly Islamist resistance; the presence of masked Arab street muscle; and the antisemitic intimidation of counterprotesters by said masked Arab street muscle.

WOL’s role appears to be that of shock troops, akin to the role played by black block militants on the anarchist side of the ledger. WOL is, however, connected to more seemingly “mainstream” elements of the anti-Israel movement. Abdullah Akl, a prominent WOL leader—indeed, the man leading the “strike Tel Aviv” chants in the video linked above—is also listed as a “field organizer” on the website of MPower Change, the “advocacy project” led by Linda Sarsour. MPower Change, in turn, is a fiscal sponsorship of NEO Philanthropy, another large progressive clearinghouse. NEO Philanthropy and its 501(c)(4) “sister,” NEO Philanthropy Action Fund, have received more than $37 million from Soros’ Open Society Foundations since 2021 alone, as well as substantial funding from the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, the Ford Foundation, and the Tides Foundation.

#tides foundation #national lawyers guild #within our lifetime #jewish voice for peace #students for justice in palestine #dark money #rockefeller brothers fund #funding for terrorism #lisa fithian #occupy

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spine-buster · 9 months

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just friends, pt. 2

aka, another time it could have happened again

gif credit @/besthimbomachine

Length: 3704 words Summary: It's New Year's Eve. Tyson and Hazel's favourite holiday is New Year's Eve. A beautiful dress doesn't quite help any New Year's resolutions. A/N: This series is slowly taking over my mind. This is some more blue balls for you all before we finally get to a sequel.

31 December 2019

Hazel took time to get ready for AEW’s New Year’s Eve party; she took time shaving and exfoliating in the shower, lathering herself in lotion, curling her hair, applying her makeup, slipping into her dress. She took time looking at herself in the mirror, happy with how she looked. It took a while to get here, literally and figuratively, but judging by the colour of her dress and the slit that reached up her thigh, she was, firmly, here. Happy.

The party was to be held in TIAA Bank Arena for the entire roster, and while she knew she wasn’t running late, she knew Tyson would be.

Can you hurry your ass up?

Perfection takes time, hunny

You are the worst person alive

Hazel snorted to herself at Tyson’s text, if only because she could picture so perfectly him saying it in person, too – if he were ever on time. Regardless, she waited out in the hotel lobby, scrolling through her phone. She saw some personal stories posted from some other friends already at TIAA Bank Arena, seeing all the decorations, the bar set up, and the hors d’oeuvres already being served. She was starving. If Tyson made her miss the hors d’oeuvres, she was going to kill him.

Her instincts told her to look up, and when she did, she saw Tyson walking towards her wearing a nice button up shirt and a pair of pressed slacks that fit him perfectly. He looked good, but to Hazel, he always did, even though she couldn’t say it out loud. She thanked the Lord it looked like he scrubbed all the spray tan off too, and trimmed his beard so it wasn’t too scraggly. Sometimes she thought it looked so, and she made sure to tell him. ‘It looks better when it’s shorter, Ty,’ she’d tell him, and usually within twelve hours it would be at a length she loved. It was kind of like when he told her how he liked her long hair, how he didn’t want her to cut it again after she had chopped most of it off into a long bob a few years ago now. Hazel went for regular trims so her hair was healthy and grew it out to a length that cascaded down her back.

Okay, so maybe they did say it out loud from time to time.

“Did you order the Uber?” she asked when he was close, but he didn’t answer. She waited patiently for a response, but didn’t get one. Tyson didn’t respond because his eyes were travelling from her face down her body, the dress accentuating every beautiful curve and line. “Kenneth!”

He snapped out of it. “What?!”

“You’re going to make me miss the hors d’oeuvres,” she said.

“No I’m not,” he said. “The Uber’s two minutes away. Let’s go wait outside.”

He walked behind her, watching her ass in the dress. He had to think of the smell of his hockey team’s locker room from 20 years ago to prevent himself from getting a fucking erection in the lobby of a hotel. He wanted to punch himself for thinking what he was; for thinking about what he wanted to do to her in that dress. The things he could get away with. The things she’d let him get away with.

If it was the right time.

“You look great by the way,” he said nonchalantly, barely making eye contact with her as they stood outside waiting for the Uber to pull up to the door.

“Yeah, thanks,” Hazel was almost bashful, running her hands down the fabric that covered the front of her thighs. “You don’t—you don’t think it’s too m—”

“Nah, no way,” he cut her off, shaking his head vehemently. “Everything…you just, you look incredible, Haze.”

“Thanks, Ty. I mean it.”

He looked at her finally, a small smile on his face. “If any of the guys hit on you tonight, you’ll know why.”

Before Hazel could say that none of the guys would hit on her as long as he was around (except for Austin, probably, and even then it would be as a joke), and before she could blurt out something stupid like “I wish you’d be the one to hit on me,’, their Uber rolled up in front of them. She climbed into the back, trying to get her dress not to bunch up too much. Tyson hopped in after her, staying behind the passenger seat. “TIAA Bank Arena, please,” Tyson said to the driver before looking out the window to distract himself.

***

At the party, Tyson didn’t appreciate how he and Hazel were separated. She had been whisked away early on and he watched her order gin and tonic with lime from the bar. He hung out with some of the guys but the eye he kept on her in the dress was near constant. New Year’s was his favourite holiday and he wanted to spoil himself by staring at her – sue him. He wanted to spoil himself in more ways, but he knew he couldn’t. It was getting harder the more he saw her smile, the more he saw her laugh, the more he saw her cheeks flush red and her smile get wider as the night passed, taking pictures and laughing at jokes and singing along with the music.

For what it was worth, Hazel noticed. She noticed Tyson’s eyes on her almost the entire night, stuck on her as she giggled and smiled and sipped her drink. She could tease him all night if she really wanted to, and she knew it. But instead of doing that – instead of teasing him more than she already was – she decided to whisk herself away to the bathroom, if only to cool herself down and reapply her lipstick.

As she bent over the vanity to reapply her lipstick in the mirror, the door opened and in walked Tyson. He stared at her through the mirror, smiling as he shut the door behind him and leaned against it. “Hey,” his voice was soft.

“Hey you.”

“You okay?” Tyson asked quietly.

“Of course,” Hazel nodded. She picked up her glass filled with ice and a lime. “This is water.”

“It is?”

“I keep asking the bartender to fill it with just tonic water,” she revealed, smiling. “You know how I always like to remember New Year’s.”

Tyson couldn’t help but smile at her little scheme, pushing himself away from the door and taking the few steps towards her. “Yeah. Of course. Just like me.”

“We promised, didn’t we?” she maintained direct eye contact with him through the mirror.

“We did,” he said, remembering their conversation and promise in Tokyo all those years ago. His hand went to her waist, without warning. Then it snaked around, his hand resting on her lower belly. Hazel looked at him through the mirror. “Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” his voice was low.

A smile broke out on her face; one she could barely conceal. “Mhmm,” she nodded her head quickly. She placed her hand over his, intertwining their fingers slightly. “You’re getting real handsy, Ty.”

“Sorry,” he didn’t mean it.

“You don’t have to apologize. You just have to…be careful.”

“Of what?”

“Yourself,” she deadpanned, biting her bottom lip mischievously. “You’re your own worst enemy sometimes, you know that?”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Smirking at each other through the mirror, Tyson slowly pulled his hand away from her, but didn’t step away from her body. “Are you having fun?”

“The most fun,” Hazel closed her lipstick, turning around so she was finally facing him and not looking at him through a mirror. “You know how much I love all these rapscallions. Are you?”

“Now I am.”

***

When there was about five minutes to go, the waitresses and caterers began pouring the champagne into the flutes. Hazel watched as each one filled up one by one, everybody gathering together to watch the final minutes. As the champagne was passed around, Hazel accepted her flute graciously. Tyson, of course, politely declined.

“Can I have his?” she asked the waitress, who was more than willing to oblige.

With two champagne flutes in her hands, the final minutes were dwindling. Tyson stood beside her, watching on, a smile on his face. The excitement in the air was palpable. The countdown was always the best part. And when the last minute of the year hit, he watched as Hazel performed an excited jig.

Then, thirty seconds left. They both turned towards the TV again, counting down with the growing number of their friends shouting out the numbers. Tyson grew more and more emphatic with his screaming of the numbers the closer they got. Hazel screamed along, careful not to spill her champagne.

Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...Haaaaaappy New Year!

Hazel screamed along with everyone else, raising her hands with the champagne flutes up in the air for dramatic effect. Tyson was screaming along with everyone and clapping his hands. She could see Austin and Britt already sharing a New Year’s kiss, and a few others, too. She brought the first of the champagne flutes to her lips to drink, to suppress what she really wanted to do. Hopefully the moment would pass.

When she looked into Tyson’s eyes after downing the second flute, she saw everything she loved about him; everything she was so desperate to have but desperate to keep hidden, to keep locked away in some small compartment within her. “Happy New Year, Ty.”

His smile was soft, but light, and genuine. “Happy New Year, Haze.”

***

It was nearing two in the morning by the time Tyson and Hazel decided to call it a night. There were still plenty of people at the party, and they were still all giggly and smiley, but they wanted to go back to the hotel. Tyson ordered the taxi as Hazel said goodbye to everyone, kissing everyone’s cheek and hugging them tight. When they left the venue, Tyson walked behind her again, watching her hips and ass move in her dress.

The car pulled up in no time. Hazel crouched into the taxi first, shifting all the way over to the other side. She could immediately feel how cool the air was in the car, in such contrast to the humidity outside. As Tyson climbed in after her, her body shivered. “Hyatt Regency, please,” she said to the driver, watching as Tyson close the door behind him.

As the taxi driver signalled to rejoin the road, Tyson moved so he was in the middle seat, practically in her seat. Then, his hand went straight to her thigh, where the slit of her dress exposed as much leg as it could. Her eyebrows rose playfully. “What d’you think you’re doing?�� she asked playfully.

“What?” he asked non-chalant, the smallest of smirks building on his face. “Not like my hand’s never been there before. Plus, you shivered. Body heat is paramount.”

Between training and matches, and between, well…he wasn’t technically wrong. But he still knew he was pushing it, and Hazel knew he was pushing it too. While she appreciated the physical touch – she always did with Tyson – she knew it wasn’t the right or the best thing to do. “Oh Tyson,” she chastised him, leaning back against the window. “You know what would be even better?” she asked as her hand went to lay on top of his on her thigh, their fingers slightly intertwining.

His hand attempted to go higher, closer to her core, but she stopped him. “What’s that?” he asked.

“If you gave me a foot massage.”

He pretend gagged and she laughed out, knowing that he hated anything to do with feet. “Now why the fuck would I do that?”

“Cause you love me,” she said. “And these heels are awful.”

“They look great.”

“Beautiful but awful.”

“Why don’t you just take them off?”

She rolled her eyes. Men. “The first rule of heels is you can’t take them off until it’s the end of the night. Your feet won’t fit back in them if you do, and it actually becomes more painful to walk in them again.”

Tyson shook his head. “Beauty is pain, I guess.”

“So I guess I’m not getting a foot massage, huh?” she smiled.

“No chance.”

They chatted and joked for the short ride back to the hotel, wishing the driver a Happy New Year and tipping generously with cash so he didn’t have to claim it. The second Tyson’s hand left her thigh and his body left her side, she felt the loss. She hated admitting so. She buried the feeling again as she stepped out of the car. But before Hazel could even shut the door, Tyson’s hands were on her again.

Except this time, he lifted her up dramatically into a fireman’s carry. She yelped loudly, acutely aware that despite her dress still being on and the fabric covering everything it needed to cover, her ass was in the air. “Tyson!”

“Oh will you stop,” he mimicked Gorilla Monsoon perfectly. “You said your feet hurt!” He began walking towards the door and through the foyer. Hazel could feel her body heat up from embarrassment as she saw the concierge look at them. What a sight to see at two in the morning. She was thankful that nobody else was lingering around. “Better than walking, huh?”

“Can you at least carry me like a normal person so my ass isn’t in the air?”

Carefully, so as to not tear at her dress, they transitioned like they were in the ring in-between wrestling moves, and eventually, Tyson was carrying her bridal style. She pressed the button for the elevator before looking into his eyes and cradling his face in her hand. “Hey Tys?”

“Hmm”?

“Thanks for carrying me.”

“I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“I know that, but your back is bad.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your feet hurt.”

Her heart swelled. Tyson had always been so good to her, and her to him, but she revelled in this sweet moment as much as she could. It was only when Tyson’s face started to get closer did her heart begin fluttering instead of swelling. “Ty…” she whispered.

“You smell delectable,” he mumbled.

“That’s Jo Malone for you,” she tried to joke, even though she knew it wouldn’t hit. Tyson’s mind was somewhere else as she dug through her purse for their room key. She shoved it into the reader, the little light turning green before she opened the door for them. Tyson carried her into the room without even looking where he was going, the hair on his beard tickling the sensitive skin on her neck. She couldn’t help but smile and giggle. “Ty…”

“Let me put you on the bed,” his voice was husky all of a sudden. He placed her down on the bed but followed her down, his face still in the crook of her neck, his body looming over hers. “Christ, Hazel…”

Even though she was smiling, and even though almost every inch of her wanted this and could have had so, so much fun with it, she couldn’t. Trouble – that’s what this was. They could get into a lot of trouble this way. “That’s not the best idea, Ty,” Hazel whispered as she felt Tyson’s nose on her décolletage, on her clavicle, on her neck. She knew his lips were next.

“Why not?”

She giggled. “You already felt up my thigh in the taxi. You just want to because you’re hyped from the party. New Year’s has always been your favourite holiday.”

“Our favourite holiday.”

“Regardless,” she smiled to herself like a Cheshire cat, “you shouldn’t do much more, Ty. It wouldn’t be right.”

He knew she was right, fuck he knew she was right, but he gritted his teeth and bit his tongue. ‘Yes it would be right’ he thought. ‘Anything we do is right. Anything we’ve ever done has been right. It’s been right because it’s been with each other.’ He dislodged himself from her neck and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “It’s that dress, too,” he said to mask everything he was feeling, in a tone that covered any agony with humour.

Hazel’s smile didn’t leave her face. “It’s always the dress, huh?”

Tyson stayed silent, continuing to stare at the ceiling, trying to collect his thoughts. His arm was up above his head, the back of his hand resting on his forehead. “Sorry Hazel,” his voice was soft and low.

“You don’t have to apologize. I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret later.”

‘But I won’t regret it’ he thought to himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he nodded slightly. “Thanks for always looking out for me, Haze.”

“You know I always will.”

Both of them took deep breaths, staring up at the ceiling as they lay in bed. Tyson couldn’t get the images out of his mind of Hazel at the party posing for photos, laughing, her legs glistening in the light. Her beautiful smile that took up half her face. The shine of her hair down her back. Fuck.

He felt Hazel shift beside him. When he looked over, she had lifted her knee to her chest, stretching to grab the buckle of her heels. The material of her dress rode up her thighs, exposing more of her skin. They came off one by one, with Hazel haphazardly throwing them to the side on the floor. He watched as she pushed herself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, her back now facing him. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Hey Tys?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you unzip me?”

He shot up, but tried not to look too eager. He moved so he was directly behind her, watching as she gathered her hair over one shoulder. He grabbed the small zipper of her dress with his big hands. He took his sweet ass time pulling it down; Hazel knew he would. A part of her wanted to tease him so badly, only because she knew she had the power to at the moment.

When he was finished, he didn’t say anything. Instead, Hazel sensed it and she stood up from the bed, not bothering to look back at him. He watched her as she walked through the room, watched as she reached her suitcase and promptly dropped her dress to the floor, leaving her in only her underwear in front of him. He caught glimpses of the curves of her breasts as she threw her hair up in a ponytail and dug through her suitcase to find her pyjamas. His mind took him back to Tokyo and it was like a magic trick how he could remember the feeling of them in his hands when they made love.

Hazel went into the washroom and closed the door behind her, and Tyson knew it was so she could wash off her makeup. The memories of the night they’d just had flooded his mind, interspersed with memories of Tokyo. Her dress. The first time she wore one of his t-shirts after crashing at his apartment in Shinjuku. Her being backstage after the G1 Climax. Her laughing at his dumb joke at the bar. Her lips around the straw of her drink. Her hand over his when he grabbed at her thigh inside the taxi.

When Hazel got out of the washroom, clean-faced and with her hair in a bun, she noticed Tyson laying back down on the bed, still in his clothes from the party. When she moved closer, she realized that instead of using the time she was in the bathroom to change, he hadn’t. Now, he sleeping in his pants and shirt, an arm draped across his chest. He looked so peaceful in his slumber Hazel almost didn’t want to disturb him. But she knew what she had to do.

She crawled onto the bed slowly, making sure not to disturb him, and began to pull his belt out of the loop and unbuckle it. When she tugged slightly, he moved his arm, and it wasn’t until she unbuttoned his pants and unzipped them did he groggily open his eyes. “Hazel?” he asked.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

Considering what he had been thinking of before he fell asleep, he wasn’t sure if this was reality or a dream. The fact that her hands were near his crotch was enough to make him confused. “What’re you—”

“You can’t sleep in your party clothes, Tys. Lift your hips for me.”

He did as he was told, and felt Hazel pulling his pants down, all the way down, until he was left in his boxers. She moved to his shirt and started unbuttoning it for him. In his mental haze of still not knowing if this was a dream or reality, he bought his hand up and placed it over hers. She stopped and looked at him. “I’d do anything for you,” he whispered softly.

A smile spread across her face. “I’d do anything for you too. Let me take this off you now, okay?”

Her hands were soft as they glided across his chest and up to his broad shoulders to push his shirt back. It came off easily. Hazel noticed Tyson’s heavy eyes. “Get your head on a pillow, Tys. You’ll be more comfortable.”

He pushed himself back and settled himself; meanwhile, Hazel pulled back the covers, got underneath them, and pulled them over their bodies. She snuggled into his back, his body heat radiating onto her. She paused for a moment, her lack of judgement winning out against her better judgement as she placed three kisses along Tyson’s shoulder. She dragged her lips along his skin between them, making sure her lips lingered on his skin when she was done. “That okay?”

He groaned slightly in response, nodding his head. “That feels so nice,” he sighed out.

Hazel couldn’t help but appreciate the sentiment. “Let’s go to sleep, Tys. Tomorrow when we wake up there’ll be a whole new year of memories we can make together.”

Always together.

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