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too-many-baes · 2 years

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A Glimpse of Christine

Pairing: fem!reader x Stephen Strange

Warning(s): Angst, break up, comparisons, jealousy

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Day 2 of Non-Stop August! This fic did not end how I intended but about half way through I had a lightbulb, courtesy of the viral song ‘Glimpse of Us.’ Hope you all enjoy!

Silence envelops the room, except for the ever ticking clock that hung on the wall, a constant reminder of time passing while you sat alone. The pot of pasta serving as the tables current centre piece had long stopped giving off steam yet it still smelled just as good as when you'd placed it there hours ago.

You'd already helped yourself to the lukewarm dish 15 minutes ago but had lost your appetite as soon as you'd sat it on your plate. You idly pushed a single round of penne from one side of your plate to the other before standing with a resigned sigh, collecting your full plate and the completely empty one from the other end of the table. Your untouched food landed with a thud into the rubbish bin, your conversation from the morning ringing in your ears as you set about tidying up what remained of your solitary evening.

“Stephen, can we talk?” You spoke nervously from the bed as you sat and watched him tie his tie in the full length mirror.

“Of course my dear.” His eyes briefly met yours in the mirror, a small smile accompanying his reply. You took a deep breath as you steeled yourself to give the speech you’d been practicing for the last week in your head.

“I need you to be home on time tonight. I’m going to make us a nice dinner, and we’re going to talk while we eat.” He turns around to face you, satisfied with how his tie was sitting.

“And what are we going to talk about?”

“About us, Stephen. We need to talk about us.” He opened his mouth to respond in the same nonchalant way that he loved to, but the look on your face had him using his better judgement and closing it before he could utter a word. He gives you a solemn nod, confirmation that your plans were locked in.

Things hadn’t been the same between the two of you recently, not since seeing her. Sure, the honeymoon phase was well and truly over but it couldn’t be a coincidence that Stephen had gone cold after your run in. Something had changed, and you were hoping, praying, that it wasn’t because of her.

“Stephen,” you call out as he was about to leave for the day after he’d given you a quick peck as a goodbye, “6:30. I won’t be reminding you.”

“6:30. I’ll be there.”

You were scrubbing the pasta pot, the leftovers safely in the fridge and the merlot you’d bought three quarters empty, when the jingling of keys in the door signified Stephen’s arrival. At 9:00pm.

He called your name out cheerfully as the signature sounds of his keys going into the bowl on the entryway table and his bag being plonked down on the ground beside it registered in your ears. You didn’t bother with a response, taking a sip of your wine and going harder with your scrubber at a particularly irritating spot.

“Shit,” he says from the threshold of the kitchen, “the dinner. Babe I am so sorry I forgot-” He reaches out to touch your waist and pull you in for a hug but you jerk away from his touch to grab the tea towel from the oven door.

“Really?” You throw the tea towel into the partially dried bowl to face him, bracing your arms against the sink behind you.

“Don’t even start Stephen. It’s 9 o’clock, where have you even been?” The grumble he gives you in response enrages you, making you snatch the open wine bottle from his hand as he was fetching himself a glass. He looks at you with fire in his eyes as he says your name as if it were a curse. “Where have you been?” You repeat, eyes steady and unrelenting as you look into his.

The two of you are very similar, both of you with an unbreakable will, making arguments a stand down. It is Stephen that gives in first, closing his eyes and rubbing his brow with his thumb and forefinger before looking back at you with a much softer expression.

“I was working on my paper and I forgot about dinner. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough Stephen. Not this time.” You leave the kitchen and head into the bedroom, opening drawers and pulling out what few things you had in them and tossing them on the bed. You and Stephen didn’t live together, but you did keep a small selection of your things at his place, as you had been there more often than not as of the last few months.

A humourless chuckle from the door way indicates that he’d followed you but you pay him no mind as you carry on with the task at hand.

“Acting a little rash, aren’t we?” The smug smile on his face feels as though he’d reached into your chest just to close his fist around your heart.

“This isn’t funny Stephen, and it’s not rash. Things have been different with us for weeks now, don’t even try to deny it”, you added once you saw him opening his mouth to interject. It snaps shut, the amused twinkle from his eyes fading when he notices the tears welling in yours. “All I wanted was one dinner. One dinner where we could talk about things-”

“Well lets talk about them now, I’m here now.” He grabs one of your hands in both of his as he sits himself on the edge of the bed while you remain standing. You look at your hand delicately cradled in his before you look back into his eyes.

The man cares about you, you know he does, anyone could see it. But you know that Stephen was hung up on his ex, Christine, and anyone could see that too. The two of you had bumped into her with her new beau a while back, and you could honestly say that was where the trouble had started. Stephen had been distant ever since. Staying later at the office, not keeping you in the loop of his comings and goings, barely holding you in bed the way he had.

And you knew. You knew that the comparisons had started. That when you made him breakfast on a Sunday, it would take him back to the pancakes and bacon he and Christine had shared. When he went to work and sat in his office he’d be picturing her leaning against his desk as they ate and brain stormed what to do on an upcoming surgery. The watch you’d bought him sat barely worn in its case in favour of the engraved piece of his choosing that occupied his wrist always.

The watch you’d known about from the start, but you’d been naïve enough to think that what he and her had didn’t matter, because you and Stephen were different. You were right, of course. You were different. Different in the sense that you were the sequel. The shitty remake that could never live up to the original. The movie adaptation when everybody knows the book is better. The girl he’d be seeking his other love in, because he couldn’t have her.

“You want to talk?” You question, rubbing your eyes with your free hand and composing yourself breath after breath for what you were about to ask. He nods at you hopefully, but whether or not that hope was for fixing what you had or getting this argument over and done with you couldn’t tell. You pull away your hand from his and take a few steps back, knowing he wouldn’t be happy with what you were about to ask.

“If you could have Christine back, would you?” The silence is nerve wracking, and you suddenly long for the waiting at an empty table and a ticking clock. Stephen eventually lets out a scoff, not looking at you as he answers.

“Of course not, I’m with you, and I love you and-”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well she has a boyfriend now anyway, she’s moved on-”

“That’s not what I asked Stephen.”

“It’s just irrelevant-”

“Stephen, just ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

“YES.” There it was. What you knew but hoped to be false. “Yes, I would.” You nodded over and over as you collected your small suitcase from his walk in and gathered your pile of things, shoving them inside wordlessly as the tears finally fell down your face. He said you name, once, twice, then again and again in a whisper as you prepared yourself to leave.

Just as you were about to leave the room he caught you by the elbow. Still seated on the bed he looked up at you with teary eyes that made you want to hold the brilliant doctor you’d grown to love. You stayed strong, looking down at him through your own tears and waiting.

“Please don’t go.” You crouched down in front of him, your hands resting on top of his knees as his hands cupped your cheeks. “Please don’t go.”

“I have to.” You utter, allowing yourself a pained smile as your hands cover his, fingers curling around the edges. “I love you Stephen, but I can’t stay. Not now.”

You lean up to plant what you promised yourself would be the last kiss you would ever give him. It was wet and raw and it broke your heart when you had to pull away and finally pry his hands off of your face. You stood and grabbed your suitcase as Stephen held his head in his hands.

You ventured into the lounge and pulled open the front apartment door, his voice stopping you just before you left.

“I love you.” Your tears fell again and you had to force yourself not to turn around and look at the broken man you were leaving behind, knowing you’d falter and stay.

“I know,” you threw over your shoulder, uttering your last words before you shut the door behind you, “but not like her.”

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lovingsr · 10 months

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HEARTBEAT

cw: mcd (major character d*ath)

doctor!seulgi

angst

IN A QUIET HOSPITAL ROOM, THE STERILE SCENT of antiseptic hung heavy in the air. Seulgi, a talented and compassionate doctor, stood beside the bed, her heart heavy with sorrow. The love of her life, Irene, lay frail and weak, her body ravaged by a relentless illness that had stolen her vitality.

It all started with Irene's recurring headaches. She always put up a brave front, telling Seulgi everything was fine and that it was just another headache. Seulgi was naturally concerned and kept a watchful eye on Irene, but Irene always reassured her with a loving kiss.

The headaches grew more intense over time, until they finally reached a critical point. Irene, who had been waiting at home in their shared bed, was left in agonizing pain. Her head throbbed, her eyes stung, and her entire body ached. In a moment of desperation, Irene reached for her phone and called Seulgi, begging for her to return home. Seulgi's heart sank as she heard the desperation in Irene's voice. She immediately left her work at the hospital, and dashed to her car.

“Be okay, please.” Seulgi mumbled to herself, driving back home. Her phone calling Irene’s number again, but her lover wasn’t picking up. Once she reached home, she immediately opens the front door, calling out to her lover’s name, but she got no response. She went to their shared bedroom, and she saw Irene unconscious on the white, wrinkled sheets.

A medical examination revealed an alarming white mass forming in Irene's brain, nearly the size of a plump grape. Both Irene and Seulgi decided that chemotherapy would be the best course of action, with Irene trusting Seulgi's expertise and judgment. Despite the treatment having some positive effects, Irene's health continued to worsen, and Seulgi was well aware of the situation.

Seulgi had devoted her life to healing others, to bringing light into their darkest moments. But now, as she looked into Irene's eyes, she felt powerless against the merciless hands of fate. She had always been the rock in their relationship, the one who held everything together. She found herself crumbling under the weight of despair.

She asks herself, "What kind of doctor am I?" She felt helpless and stupid, everything happening so quickly and unexpectedly, especially after she had kept such close tabs on Irene. Despite always reminding her to eat well and on time, she couldn't stop her from getting sick. How could this have happened?

Seulgi couldn't bring herself to sleep. She was determined to stay by Irene's side, no matter what. With her heart aching, she struggled to accept their fate. She wanted to grow old with her, just as they had both vowed. Now, she could only hold Irene close and shower her with as much love and comfort as possible, as she watched her most cherished person gradually weaken day by day.

It was a game of pretending for the doctor. Seulgi pretends that everything is fine and all is well, that Irene will be okay, that this was just a severe headache, that she wasn’t going to lose her—

Seulgi pretends until she couldn’t anymore, not when she hears her name being called by Irene.

Irene's once vibrant smile had faded, replaced by a pale visage and weary eyes. Her hair, which Seulgi used to run her fingers through while they cuddled, had grown short and then dwindled away entirely. Despite her appearance, Irene remained the most beautiful woman in Seulgi's eyes. Irene grew small over her changed appearance, often breaking down in tears each night as Seulgi held her in her arms, whispering sweet words.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months as Seulgi watched Irene's condition deteriorate. She spent every waking moment by her side, clinging to the fading moments they had left together. Their love had always been a source of strength, a sanctuary from the harsh realities of the world. But now, it seemed like a cruel joke, mocking them with its ephemeral nature.

Irene's touch grew weaker with each passing day, but her spirit remained unyielding. She knew the end was near, and yet she found solace in Seulgi's unwavering love. In their quiet moments together, they shared bittersweet memories and whispered promises of eternal devotion.

Seulgi’s nightmare comes to life one early morning as she held Irene's fragile hand, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and longing. The weight of their impending separation bore down on them, threatening to break their spirits. Seulgi's voice trembled as she spoke, her words barely audible above the sound of her own tears.

"Irene, you are my everything. My reason for living. I can't imagine a world without you."

Irene mustered a gentle smile, her voice but a whisper. "Seulgi, my love, you have given me a lifetime of happiness in the time we've had together. Promise me that you'll find joy in the days to come, even without me."

Tears streamed down Seulgi's face as she pressed her lips to Irene's forehead. "I promise, my love. I'll carry you in my heart."

"I love you, Irene," Seulgi whispered, her voice filled with sorrow. "I will love you forever."

Irene smiled, her eyes shimmering with love. "And I love you, Seulgi. Always."

In the hushed hours of the morning, as the world bathed in darkness, Irene took her last breath, leaving behind a shattered soul in Seulgi. She tightly hugged her wife's body, tears streaming down her face, and softly murmured tender words into the cold air as the machine emitted a monotone beep, signaling the cessation of life. The weight of grief threatened to consume her entirely, but she clung to the memories they had shared, finding solace in their enduring love.

Seulgi continued her work at the hospital, dedicating herself to saving lives, all the while carrying Irene's spirit within her. Each day was a struggle, a painful reminder of the void that now resided in her heart. But she knew that Irene would want her to find joy, to continue to make a difference in the world.

As time passed, Seulgi found a glimmer of hope in the faces of the patients she treated. She discovered that her love for Irene had not vanished; it had transformed into a guiding light, urging her forward. Though her heart would forever bear the scars of loss, she knew that her love story with Irene would never truly end.

As long as Seulgi still breathes and her heart beats, she will carry Irene's wish with her, and her love for Irene will remain eternal.

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