#aj writes stuff

Wyatt Johnston/Thomas Harley 3.1k | Explicit | Chapter 1/3

When Tom wakes up in the past, he's forced to re-learn how to navigate his relationship with Wyatt. They try to break his curse by any means necessary while Tom is on IR, but the line between business and pleasure quickly grows blurry. Eventually, Tom is forced to confront what he really wants out of their relationship, and just how far he's willing to go to make that happen.

Or: my take on the running "old man Thomas Harley" bit, written for 2025's @hockeytrumpshate event on @teex's behalf. Thanks to everyone involved for making this happen; I'm really excited to get this one finalized and posted!

Maybe he understood Shane a little more now. Running away at the first glimpse of something more, something real. He was truly frozen sitting at the counter, indecision locking every muscle. Life without Shane seemed…pointless. Life with Shane still seemed impossible. Shane would know what to do if he was here and not in the hospital. He was usually good at plans. Or it seemed like he might be. He's meticulous enough. It hits him how little he does know about Shane, he knows enough, the important bits. Enough to love him in a way he never thought possible. He hears the door shut, and his heart leaps. Maybe it all had been a mistake. Maybe it hadn't been so bad and Shane is here, upright. The thought scares Ilya a little but for a second, everything was normal again. It felt too right for that split second, Shane coming home to Ilya. “Hello?” a confused feminine voice pierces through the thick veil of feelings, shatters the illusion of hope like a delicate glass, “is someone here?” it grows closer. His heart breaks again. or Shane had a plan, it gets ruined. Ilya goes to his apartment anyway, has a breakdown, and discovers just how much Shane is his Mother's son.

Welcome to my blog!

I’m AJ, an autistic queer guy.

I made this blog purely because I am a whore.

But, jumping off from that-

Let’s get a few things straight, I’m not

But seriously, here are the things you should know about if you’re interacting with my blog:

First rule: I will absolutely not, under any circumstance, write smut or anything $exual about underage characters.

Secondly: I am a trans, queer man. If you can’t handle that, that’s on you. This blog unapologetically supports the queer community. ALL. OF. IT.

Third: Just be aware that (because I have adhd) I may not answer asks right away. I genuinely forget once the notification goes away so just be patient with me lol

Anyway there’s really not much else after that.

All potentially trigg€ring topics will be tagged with “warning: (topic)” as tumblr keeps trying to censor random words.

I write about all characters but as stated at the top n$fw is only for characters who are 18+. I don’t care if they’re fictional, it’s still weird.

“Loser has to do whatever winner says,” Tom replies, easy and confident, like he already knows how this plays out. Like he’s sure he’s going to win, get a chance to boss Wyatt around with impunity. Wyatt sharpens, bristling against the supposition. “Make it best of seven.” Wyatt pushes away from the desk, barely catching his textbook before it falls and further dents the cover. “And five days straight.”

Wyatt wins a bet. While he makes the most of the opportunity to mess around, he struggles to see what his friends insist is happening with Tom. Eventually, they get it figured out.

"No, not really. But I have complicated feelings about this one. Have for awhile," he takes a gulp of vodka. "I also spent my 25th alone getting drunk. It was miserable, so as much as you piss me off, I'm not letting you do that. Even if it's just the two of us, up here, not talking." Why did he have to be such a fucking boy scout? "So, to making it another year round the sun," Scott holds up his glass to cheers. Ilya's glass meets his, "yes, to having more birthdays without her than with." And something shifts in Scott abruptly as he processes the words. Ilya realizes a bit belatedly that he said that out loud. Unfortunately. His brow furrows, "who should be here?" Even through the haze of drunkenness, Ilya can tell it's coming from a place of genuine interest. "My mother." It feels like it's being pulled from his throat involuntarily. -- or Ilya and Scott have a lot more in common than they think, they discover this on a Vegas rooftop in 2016

“Don’t give me a line,” Mav laughs, glancing away from Justin’s unyielding stare. “That’s awful. You can’t do that.” “Good thing I didn’t say anything then, yeah?” Instead of trawling for a god-awful pickup line, Justin goes to his knees.

The night that Justin nets his first goal, he hooks up with Mavrik to settle his blood. Sometimes sex is an easy, uncomplicated thing. For Justin and Mavrik, it proves to be anything but.

Andrew, meanwhile, is the picture of serenity. He always is, even when a night on the town takes them to a glitzy chapel and puts rings on their fingers; he just wakes up in the morning and goes about business as usual, unfazed. Unbothered.

Twenty-three days in, Neil’s no closer to understanding what happened last night in Vegas.