The Inevitable Heartbreak

Pairing(s) - Marc Spector x gender neutral!avatar!reader

(Implied) Steven Grant x gn!reader

Prompt(s) - "You'll find someone better than me, I promise you that."

Summary - With pain dripping from his lips and tears falling from his eyes, Marc Spector breaks your heart.

Warnings - Angst, like seriously angst, slight fluff, use of curse words and making out.

Wordcount - 2k+

A/N - Been a while since I wrote anything, here's a fic for our beloved Marc Spector. I have written the reader as Hermes' avatar who is the Greek god of traveller, merchants, thieves and many other things though the reader can be assumed as Mercury's avatar as well since he's never exclusively mentioned. Also check out Sedated by Hozier, it matches the vibe of the fic. Would love to know what y'all think about it. Stay safe and thank you!



It was early in the morning when Marc arrived. Silent steps and imposing presence, he did not appear to be in a fantastic mood. Eyeing his sage green bag and the shadow to his stance, you ponder over what could have happened. You chalk his bad mood upto Khonshu as you shut the door behind him. He probably made Marc do something shitty again.

You were lucky in that regard, you suppose. Your god doesn't demand a lot of you. A few errands here and there, sometimes he asks you to disguise yourself and pass on a few gifts to mortals he deems worthy and occasionally train his demichildren but he has never forced you to commit to things you weren't comfortable with.

Marc deviates from your usual routine today. Instead of heading towards the kitchen or your balcony where you both usually have your breakfast together, he heads towards your bedroom. You don't give his actions a second thought assuming that he wants to exchange his clothes for new fresh ones that he must have brought in his bag and so you head to your kitchen to prepare your regular cups of coffee.

When you return back to your living room a couple minutes later with two steaming cups of coffee in your hands, Marc is returning from your bathroom with all his bathing necessities clutched in his hands that he proceeds to dump in his bag. You wonder at his actions as you set the cups on the table. A peek in his bag shows that he has retrieved almost all of his and Steven's things that were kept in your apartment; spare clothes, combs, towels, perfumes, books that Steven had lent you along with all his bookmarks, everything.

You question him on it but he ignores you and instead steps upto your quaint coffee table and hesitantly plucks four of the six watches there. He carefully tucks them in his bag as you stiffen at his actions.

Marc was a casually passionate horologist, a word you had curiously looked up for him. He had a rather impressive collection of multi hued, antique as well as modern watches. Those watches had been an integral part of building intimacy between you both. Every milestone of your relationship had been accompanied by Marc fondly pressing a watch he treasured into your palms. When you had asked him why he did that, he had told you that he wanted to share with you a hobby that brought him genuine joy and so you had cherished every single gift he had ever given you and this rather excitable side of his that you got to be a part of. You found yourself obsessed over the glimmer in his eye everytime he noticed you wearing one of his pieces, every breathy little 'I love you' that used to tumble from his lips just after and the way his fingers would ghost over your wrist throughout your time together.

As he zips his bag with all of him you had stored in every part of your apartment, a piercing dread spreads through your heart. You dazedly observe Marc drag his eyes longingly around your apartment.

You shouldn't be so affected, you think, they're just watches after all and he probably needs them but you can't help but wonder if you had given too much emotional value to them, if you were the only one who viewed them as a really crucial part of your connection with Marc. Your heart feels heavy in your chest as if it has been stuffed with rocks and your throat feels constricted as you try to speak up.

"Marc," your start weakly, "what is going on?"

He finally meets your eyes, trepidation littered all over his face. He sports his usual creases on his glabella, smile lines more prominent than ever as he runs his fingers through his unkempt hair.

"I think we should break up." He says it, finally says it as his wide eyes bore into yours to gauge your reaction.

You wonder if he can identify anything you're feeling on your face because you sure as hell can't. Are you even feeling anything right now? You're not sure. All you feel is like you are caged somewhere outside your body and can't conjure up any emotion even if you tried.

"Oh." Is all you say, blinking heavily. With just a couple of his words you can foresee all the turmoil, the distress and the pain with arms extended ready to consume and eat you alive. How long will you survive or rather will you survive at all?

"Please, say something! Anything!" Marc pleads, stepping closer to you. Still there's a couple steps between you both and Marc has never seemed so close yet so far away not even when he so often withdrew into his little bubble for extended periods of time. Today, it feels as if you're looking at him from another planet, he seems so strange... so different. You wonder when things changed and you didn't even notice them.

"Is this because of Khonshu?" You ask, tilting your head, the answer vibrating deep in your bones.

Marc doesn't reply, he doesn't have to. You can see it in the way his eyes dart away, glaze over and immediately return to yours.

His unspoken confirmation is all you need to finally snap out of your numb state because ofcourse its Khonshu. That dumb old bird had been fucking your lives for way too long now and your restraint has finally snapped. You were going to put him in his place today. He will learn to respect his avatar as a person and not a toy to be mistreated. He thinks he's oh so powerful, well you'll show him powerful. You'll reach out to every one of your contacts; gods, demigods, nasty witches ready to fuck him over with just one word out of your mouth. That selfish little bastard won't ruin Marc and yours relationship any longer, you'll make sure of it.

Heavy hands suddenly tug at your shoulders, spinning you around quickly as your eyes connect with Marc's. In your anger, you realize you had picked up your golden wing keychain with your car keys attached to it.

Marc pulls you close to him, his breath fanning your face as he gently rubs your shoulders. You're caught between feeling angry at him for stopping you and also feeling relieved that he's finally touching you in some way, that there's no longer a huge distance between you two.

"Marc, don't you.." He shushes you abruptly, looking spent to the bones as if he has reached the end of his limit and was about to break any second.

"You know why I have to do this. Please don't make this any harder than it already is."

"No, that's the thing, Marc, you don't have to do this. You know that and yet every time you bend over to do everything Khonshu says." You answer indignantly, "It doesn't make sense. He cannot keep using you like this anymore. He's making you end your relationship with me and you're doing it, just like that."

You push him away, "Where's my say in all this, Marc? Huh? Do you consider me that weak, that defenseless to just break up with me because Khonshu did what? Threatened to kill me?"

"I don't consider you defenseless, you know that but I can't risk it. Dammit! I can't fucking risk it." He chokes out heavily, his hands clawing at your arms to tug you back towards him.

"With me, you're always going to be in danger, there's always going to be a threat hanging over your head and I. can't. fucking. risk. it, you know it. You know all of it." He cries against your hands, holding your palms upto his cheeks as his tears trickle down your fingers, "I'm sorry for this, I really, really am but if something happens to you because of me, if you get hurt because of me, I won't ever be able to forgive myself."

He's shaking against you. You've never seen him like this before and it absolutely shatters your heart. Why do things have to be like this? So desolate and hopeless? Why only for you both?

His confession ignites within you feelings of love and fear and concern and desperation and anger and its all too fucking much. The next thing you know, you're clutching at Marc's jacket and molding your lips with his. One of his hands wraps around your waist, the other gripping the side of your neck with such a familiar touch that your heart howls in agony.

You won't be able to comb your fingers through his hair anymore or softly caress his eyelids when he finally returns from his avatar duties to spend some time with you, no eating obnoxious amounts of takeouts while you lounge on your couch or training with him on rare nights where you shift in your armours and fight each other. No drinking till you're both shitfaced and horny and can't keep your hands off each other or forcing him to buy matching shirts with you so you could bond with both him and Steven over it.

You'll never get to do any of it with him ever again and it makes you sob in his mouth as you kiss him like you are greedy of the air in his lungs. His lips are familiar and safe and warm against yours and you don't know how long you hold each other, how long you both cry as your fingers clutch at his shirt and his stay glued to your jaw.

What's going to happen to you now? What going to happen to Steven? Oh gods, Steven. He's going to be so heartbroken. You are going to be so heartbroken. His sweet and tender disposition, always tousled hair and his animated ramblings, you're never gonna see him again. You'll miss the way he constantly moves his hands as he talks and the ever-present glimmer in his eyes deeply, his absense would slowly drain you of life, would slowly drain you of him. You wonder if he can see you right now, if he is indeed listening to all that is transpiring.

When you open your eyes a while later, having calmed down from your most recent wave of heartache, Marc's eyes are reflecting hazel from the gentle sunlight hitting his face. His forehead is peppered with faded scars, moist eyes gazing at you like a devout at their god and you wonder how you can feel so much love and misery with just a single eye contact. Why do you have to love these two wonderful and beautiful and compassionate men and then lose them just like that? Why does Marc have to be so stubborn and protective and paranoid and why would you still utterly wreck yourself for him?

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice hoarse, "you'll find someone better than me, I promise you that." His eyes flit across your face repeatedly, desperately. "You'll find someone better than us... and when you do you won't regret a single thing."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You won't, you want to scream at him. You'll never find someone like them. Someone like him. Ever.

"Close your eyes." He says softly. You don't want to but you reluctantly do as he says, burning the image of him under the golden rays and the bridge of his nose, the creased glabella and the delicate bow of his lips in your eyes and your soul.

The only indication of his departure is the soft click of your door, the lost 'I love you' he leaves you and the two cold cups of coffee still waiting to be held. He's left your heart and your apartment just that little bit more empty.

A cold breeze sweeps through your living room, your god materialising behind you. He's probably been here a while, you think as you wipe at your ever-watering eyes.

You wonder if he can teach you how to outrun the pain.