#PROUD OF THIS ONE LET'S GO BOIIISSSSS

[felidaefighter]

Keeping Promises To His Reflection

Sequel to Love You To The Point Of Violence; AKA Sapnap keeps his promise to Quackity and, by proxy, Dream

[cw: angst, character death]

It had been a long time since Sapnap had properly hunted anyone. It was invigorating, in a way, and almost reminded him of the good old days he’d spent sparring with Dream and George. Almost. Now, though, the fire that had initially fueled his passion and love burned with rage and resentment and spread into his sword, which sparked and flickered with heat and Flame. He was burning from the inside out in every way, and he intended to share this feeling with the unlucky person he was hunting via his blade.

Sapnap walked with the heavy, certain footsteps of the soldier he once was-- and in all honesty, still was-- forward, deliberate, and imbued with intent. He had never been known for mercy-- didn’t have any sort of track record for it in any of his wars-- but that didn’t mean he couldn’t love. Just meant he was careful with his love and loyal to his core. That loyalty came with the toll he was here to collect. The flames from his sword cast deep shadows from the spruce around him, and his eyes flickered through the trees, hoping to catch someone moving with the shadows.

“There’s no use in hiding,” Sapnap called in a sing-song voice that did little to mask his feelings, “And you can’t outrun me. If you have a horse I’ll just bow it down. I mean, you know me.” With a steadying exhale that immediately had Sapnap turning towards him, Quackity stepped out of the shadows. “Can we talk about this? I just want to talk. We can just talk, right?” Sapnap sighed, stepping towards his ex-fiance. “I mean... I don’t want to lie to you, Quackity.” Two strong-willed individuals staring eachother down. It would’ve been quite a sight, in any other circumstance. But only one of them was wearing netherite.

Standing less than a hair’s length away from one another, the two men could argue that the tension between them was solely a face-off of powerful people; but it would be a lie if they never acknowledged just how much of it came from their history. They could pretend, if they wanted, that their skin didn’t itch with the memory of embrace that would only burn with bitterness if they acted on nostalgia. Instead, Sapnap’s eyes bored into Quackity’s own, a relentless gaze that wouldn’t yield no matter the silver of Quackity’s tongue.

Sapnap still ached, in no small part, to run his rough and calloused warrior’s hand over the scar on Quackity’s face as he discussed it, but he couldn’t, not anymore. “I talked to Tubbo about the butcher army he ran,” Sapnap explained-- Quackity looked quizzical, having not yet figured out where he was leading. “Or rather, the butcher army you ran. It was your idea, your ‘hitlist’. And Dream was on there too.” Now Quackity knew. Despite the space between them, Sapnap could still feel Quackity’s breath hitch and heart race just a little faster. Creating a defense that both of them knew Sapnap wouldn’t buy.

“Sapnap, Tubbo was the president. He really said that to you? He’s just trying to absolve himself of any guilt so you don’t attack him! That should be obvious to you.” The resentment Sapnap felt that was still burning within him. Mostly, towards himself. “Is it really second nature for you to lie like that now? What happened to you Quackity?” He thought that having his brother be the prime example of where it all went wrong would make it easier to spot in anyone else, but apparently, it just made him less willing to acknowledge it in someone he loved. Fool me once type beat. More than anything, he felt used. He had been a soldier for Quackity and Dream both. He had been loyal to Quackity and Dream both.

Coals still burn white-hot and deadly long after the flames are gone, and that was more akin to what Sapnap was feeling than a heartache. He thought he had known Dream, until it became apparent that they had drifted so much farther apart than he’d realized, and it was no longer the truth. He had thought he’d known Quackity, too. But now, it was safe to say he had never known Quackity at all. That didn’t stop the embers of his love. Didn’t stop his loyalty. Didn’t-- Sapnap’s resolve and gaze hardened-- stop him from intending to keep his promise.

And Quackity, ever so smart, was beginning to realize the situation he had put himself in. Here in front of him stood a renowned warrior, an ex-lover, and someone whom he had betrayed the trust of-- with a fire in his heart, a sword in his hand, and little more than Quackity to lose. The open woods didn’t stop him from feeling cornered. The light coming from Sapnap did not quell his fears, as his ease nowadays came from the silence and lack of witness that was offered by the dark. Sapnap spoke, and Quackity bit his tongue to keep quiet, feeling blood like liquid silver from his mouth and run like poison down his throat.

“Y’know, I was angry at Dream for betraying George and I back when we were trying to get El Rapids up and running. I wanted to kill him. But I thought about it, and I realized something.” Quackity took a step back. Sapnap took a step forward. “You didn’t actually care. You saw George and I as an opportunity for you. Despite it all, Quackity, I still love Dream. And the only thing that hurts more than his betrayal right now is the fact that you used that for your own means.” There was too much irony in it all, and Sapnap was sick of it.

Quackity wanted to ask Sapnap why he still loved Dream. Wanted to blame Dream for everything, call him a monster, tell Sapnap he did it all for him. But they were well past that. They’d had that conversation and Quackity would spare them the indignity of having it again. So instead, he took a good and proper look at Sapnap’s face. He expected Sapnap to look angry. Or disgusted. Hell, he’d even take “contempt”. What he got instead was so much worse, and apprehension rocketed through his core. Something buried in the shards of his heart shook loose, and after running ice through his veins it gave him wide eyes, terror, and the tiny, desperate flame of love that he hadn’t quite managed to snuff out.

‘I love you, I have always loved you, I still love you, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,’ written all over Sapnap’s face. A man who kept his promises to those he loved. The silver had bled out of Quackity’s words, and instead he was left with a quiet, desperate whisper, reminiscent of the man he used to be. “Sapnap, you’re not gonna kill me,” Quackity begged, and the man known being ruthless gently grabbed Quackity’s arm and stared into his eyes.

“You’ve hurt so many people,” Sapnap said, pained, his grip tightening slightly as Quackity attempted to shift away. “You’ve crossed too many lines. You’re worse than Dream ever was, and that’s saying something.” Quackity could feel the heat from the man’s skin, and it almost rivaled the temperature of the blade that was still radiating flames and forming something of a gate at the opposite side. “Sapnap, you know I’d never want to hurt you.” He tried appealing to the man’s romantic senses, tried pretending there was nothing left of his own. “All of this was only ever about what you wanted. You hurt Karl and I. You betrayed our trust.”

So close now, Quackity could almost forget he was afraid. There was no point in backing up. The silver had been drained from his tongue; his only true claim to power. He had no horses in the race anymore. No more cards to put on the table and no ace up his sleeve. Just the love of the man who was keeping him from running away. “You’re not gonna kill me,” he tried again, and Sapnap looked sorry for him. Not in a way that meant pity, though. That was good. Pity was something Quackity loathed.

“Quackity, you can still trust me. I made you a promise.” And it hurts,  for Quackity, that he shares a promise with Dream. He feels regret stab through his heart, feels the heat of his true emotions and the blood soak into his shirt and the burn of his feelings and the blade that slides through him like he was no more than fragile glass. Quackity is burning. Anger and resentment, love and passion, regret for the things he couldn’t do. Regret for the things he did-- maybe. Not really, if he’s being honest. He coughs up blood as Sapnap holds him, steady as always.

He pulls his sword out of Quackity’s chest and smoke pours out of the wound as freely as blood. It smells terrible, of course, but neither of them have the mind to point that out. Quackity’s lungs feel charred and wet at the same time. He speaks in a broken voice. “I’m pissed about this,” he confesses, “But I’m glad that after everything, I can still trust you. You never let me down when you make a promise.” They crouch down, though for Quackity it’s more like collapsing. Sapnap is still holding onto him, keeping him upright, and Quackity finds himself holding onto Sapnap right back. He tells himself he has no attachments. He’s too good at lying now; he can even do it to himself.

The ashes of their relationship make no phoenix. There is no rebirth in this, no reconciliation. There on the needle bedding of pine there is only a man who went too far and a man who keeps his promises. Neither is free of sin, but neither do they feel regret. Do what has to be done, and love enough to see it through. It’s too hot on the smoldering earth for tears to stay, if there were any at all. Quackity exhales smoke and doesn’t inhale again after that. Sapnap sees two faces in the lifeless eyes, neither of which he could save-- except for this one, only in death.

Karl won’t understand. He doesn’t have to. He only needs to accept and move on. The man he thought he loved-- the man they both thought they loved-- should have been mourned when he truly died, long before their engagement. Sapnap absently touches his ring finger, before letting out a furious scream of anguish and burying his sword in the earth in an act more primal than he would let himself feel earlier. Flames eat at the forest bedding and flicker around him and the body he holds, but Sapnap knows fire and if he’s honest, he doesn’t care about anything else right now. Let the forest burn-- he’s done worse. The man born from fire takes his former lover home.

#mcyt fanfic #sapnap #quackity #mcyt fanfiction #they write #PROUD OF THIS ONE LET'S GO BOIIISSSSS