Lovers to Strangers to Something Else
This tag belongs to the Additional Tags Category.
Parent tags (more general):
This tag has not been marked common and can't be filtered on (yet).
Works which have used it as a tag:
- 
  
  
  
  
  
Tags
Summary
Years after they last spoke, Jayce rides the empty monorail down into Zaun.
He doesn’t bring flowers. Or apologies. Just silence. And a name he still can’t forget.Viktor is quieter now. Sicker. He walks slower. Answers slower. But he still looks at Jayce like he remembers everything — and says nothing.
One night. One old lab. One drive through a city that changed while they weren’t looking.
They don’t talk about love, not directly. They talk about tea, circuits, the past, and eventually — the end.This is the story of two people who loved each other and never said it right. Of what it means to come back, even if it’s too late. Of what it means to still be seen.
White ferrari, good times.
 - 
  
  
  
  
  
Tags
Summary
Ten years after his presumed death, Regulus Black is found alive, and very much unchanged. James Potter, now divorced and half-unraveled, is sent to interview him. The glass room they meet in remembers lies, amplifies truths, and reflects everything James doesn’t want to see.
What starts as an interrogation becomes a mental chess match between two men with too much history and no closure. Regulus knows exactly what James left behind. And he’s ready to say everything James never could.
 - 
  
  
  
  
  
Tags
Summary
Normal People AU. They want each other. That’s never been the problem.
James turned, slowly, as if dragged by something heavier than guilt — something ancestral. His hands remained in the pockets of his borrowed jacket, a gesture both casual and cowardly. The streetlight above them flickered, catching the edge of his profile like a sketch someone had given up on finishing.
“That’s not what happened.”
Regulus laughed. It came out dry and scalpel-thin, a single breath honed into dismissal.
“No?” he said. “Because it felt a lot like you were pretending I didn’t exist.”
James looked at him then — really looked. Not the kind of glance you throw over your shoulder to see if the past is still chasing you, but the kind you give a painting you’ve stared at a hundred times and only just realized was about you.
“We were with my friends,” he said, as if that was a reason and not an excuse.
“And I’m not allowed to know you when they’re around? Do you have any idea what it’s like? Standing in a room and having you look through me?”
There it was — not a plea, not a break, but something far more dangerous: a mirror.
 
