Oscar Isaac X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

Ghost Of You (Marc Spector x GN!Avenger!Reader)

summary: y/n dies at Vormir instead of Nat

wc: ~1k

content: poor attempt at angst, mentions of y/n’s death, mentions of the blip, steven and jake are not part of the fic, marc is not the moon knight when y/n dies

Pov: second person

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After the split of the Avengers, everyone that was on Steve’s team, you being one of them, was either in prison or on the run from S.H.I.E.L.D and the United States government. You were on the run. Those stupid accords had caused you to flee the country, and move to London. Granted, a more secluded country would’ve been more safe, however, moving to London had always been a dream of yours. While in London, you met Marc Spector, the most handsome man you had ever seen in your life. You were wearing your Led Zepplin shirt when you met. The same one you wore when you fled the United States. You and Marc eventually fell in love with each other and got married. A small courthouse wedding that was just the two of you. No guests. It was all you could’ve asked for. 

One night while you were laying in bed with Marc, you got a call from an unknown number. You looked at each other with confusion before you answered and put it on speaker phone. You and Marc looked at each other before you finally spoke up, “Hello?” You asked with slight fear in your phone. You jumped a little when the voice responded. It was your best friend, Nat.

“Y/N, I need you to come to Wakanda. It’s an emergency,” She said before hanging up.

“Who was that?” Marc asked.

“An old friend, and I guess she needs my help.”

“Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“No,” you sighed, “but until then, you’ll be just fine.”

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The surviving Avengers in Wakanda took you back home in the Quinjet. You just sat there in silence, thinking about Marc. Wondering if he was one of the unlucky people to turn into dust. When you walked up to your front door, it was locked. You ran the doorbell hoping that Marc was there to open it, and he was. You lunged into his arms, crying as you told him everything.

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Five years later Nat decided to visit you. Her hair had grown longer and her natural red was conquering the dyed blonde. As the two of you were eating lunch at a small café, she brought up that the Avengers might have a way to bring everyone back and that they wanted you to help. You agreed and immediately headed home to tell Marc. Just like last time, Marc asked, “Do you know when you’ll be back?”

“No,” you sighed, “but until then, you’ll be just fine.”

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Little did Marc know, that would be the last time he would see you in person. Steve had delivered the news about your death to him. Everyone wanted Nat to, but she felt like it was her fault that you died. She told you about bringing everyone back. She went to Vormir with you and left with the Soul Stone, but not you. It was nobody’s fault that you died. Marc was understanding that Nat wasn’t the one to tell him. Out of all the Avengers, she was grieving the most. You two were the closest after all.

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One morning Marc decided that he was going to clean up the house. He put on your favourite playlist, and started with your coffee mug that was on the coffee table in the living room. It had been sitting there, unfinished, for months. The same mug you were drinking out of when Nat had arrived to London. Marc sighed, as he picked up the mug. Your pink lipstick stain had slowly been fading away over time. He put it away before heading to the garage to clean out old  boxes. He found a box that had your name on it, and opened it to see what the box had contained. Digging through, he found old photos of you and the Avengers, and below it all was your Zepplin t-shirt. Marc wiped a tear from his eye as he remembered that you wearing this shirt when you met, and how you told him it was the same one you wore when fleeing the states. Marc dropped the shirt in his lap and sat on the garage floor for what felt like hours before he heard the faint sound of your favourite song coming from the living room speakers. It was A Man Without Love by Engelbert Humperdinck. He got up and headed to living room to slowly sway with the song. It reminded him of you. The lyrics, and the fact that it was the song that was playing when Marc proposed. That was why it was your favorite song.

 “Every day I wake up, then I start to break up

Lonely is a man without love

Every day I start out, then I cry my heart out

Lonely is a man without love”

You played the song so often that one day Marc asked you to turn it off. He had started to get sick of it, however now, he felt as if he would never get sick of it. He turned it up and danced around the house pretending that you were singing the song, and dancing with him. That night, Marc decided to sleep in your shared bed, instead of on the couch like he had been for the past few months. He took your Zepplin shirt, placed it on your side of the bed, and put on A Man Without Love. 

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Within the next week, Marc visited your grave for the first time. He finally had some closure over your death. He placed down a bouquet of lavenders as he sat down,  telling you what he had been up to.

“So I drown it out like I always do,” he said through tears. “Dancing through our house, with the ghost of you.”

“And I chase it down with a shot of truth, that my feet don’t dance like they did with you.”