TF2 Sniper x Reader

Chapter 16: A Hatred of Brothers

A/N- Well hi there. Long time no update, eh? Sorry about that, been busy with school. But I'm graduated and bored af, so the updates will (hopefully) be coming more often. Enjoy the chapter!   ~Vex

Your POV

What?!

"S-sniper? What is he talking about?"

The BLU- Mitch- turned around and smiled at me, chuckling. "You're still callin' 'im 'Sniper'?" He turned to my Sniper- Michael. "You never told 'er your name? That's pathetic mate."

Mitch made his way over to me, squatting in front of the chair, his hands on my knees.

"See love, if you were with me, you wouldn't get that kind of disrespect. I'd treat ya right."

My anger bubbled, and I furrowed my brows angrily at him.

"I don't give a damn what would happen if I were 'with you,' I will never be 'with you.' "

He humphed and looked at me up and down, eyes settling on mine.

"Well love, that's gonna change after today."

He pushed his lips against mine, rushing one hand to the back of my head, the other to my breast. I scream and thrash, trying to get away, but my binds keep me in place. I can faintly hear Michael screaming at his brother, but my ears are filled with the blood rushing to my head in a feat of fight-or-flight. Mitch harshly gropes my breast, and when I gasp from the shock, he takes it as an advantage to shove his tongue down my throat. Tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

Michael's POV

"No! You rat-bastard, get your bloody hands off her!"

I thrash around in the chains, ignoring the pain of practically trying to rip my own arms off. My only thought is to get my bastard of a brother off of the love of my life. I could see her crying, struggling to get away, but he was stronger than her.

"Mitch I sear to god, I will kill you."

He finally pulled away from her, allowing her to breath. He turned to me, a smug grin on his face. He held his hands out to his sides, palms up.

"How do you plan on doing that, eh Mick? S' long as you're tied up, you can do a damn thing to me."

I glared at him but remained silent. He was right: so long as my hands were chained, there wasn't a damn thing I could do.

"Now then," he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. He looked at his tray of torture tools. "Where shall we start?"

He wasn't gonna hurt (y/n), no. Just me. He's gonna treat me like the rest of his prey: torture me, break me down day by day until I beg for death; but I'm never going to give in. So long as (y/n)'s alive, I'll fight like hell to get us both out of her.

Mitch selected a serrated bowie knife, looking at it before nodding his head in approval. As he made his way towards me, I could see the knife more clearly: a steel blade with a croc-bone handle, two initials carved into the bone.

It belonged to our dad, but when he passed away, he left it to me in his will. Mitch was always jealous of me when it came to our parents attention. They treated us equally, raising us exactly the same- but for some reason, in his mind, I was the favorite. Even when dad was on his death bed, saying goodbye to us, Mitch was jealous- watching on in envy as dad held onto my hands as he flat lined. To him, every achievement of mine was just something he hadn't done. So when dad passed away, he was pissed that I was left with a personal item, while he got a letter and a gun.

He looked me in the eyes, a sadistic grin on his face. 

"I'm gonna enjoy this." He placed the knife tip on my bicep, and with a bit of pressure- dragged it down my arm. I bit my lip, trying to suppress a scream, but he's not havin' it. He pressed it deeper into my skin, and I let out a groan of pain.

He chuckled darkly, twisting the knife in the muscle near my shoulder. Blood started pumping to my brain, adrenaline being released to try and suppress the pain. Through the sound of rushing blood, I could vaguely make out the sound of (y/n) screaming.

Your POV

I watched helplessly as Mitch dragged the knife across his brother's arm, pausing only to enjoy his pain. When Mick started groaning, I knew I couldn't just sit and let him get hurt. 

"Stop! Leave him alone!"

Mitch stopped and looked at me. His sadistic grin turned almost... kind, as he looked at me. 

He set the knife down on the tray, making his way back towards me. He took my face in his hands, making me look him in the eyes.

"You want me to stop hurtin' him luv?"
"Please..."
"Well, there's an easy way ta stop it," he brushed his thumb across my cheek. "You wanna know what it is?"

I nodded, a bad feeling in my stomach as he spoke.

"Leave him, and be mine."

I immediately shook my head, the very idea making my stomach turn. Mitch sighed, hanging his head and tutting.

"See love," he said, elbows on the arms of the chair and looking me in the eyes. "the problem with you sayin' no is- that just makes me wanna hurt him more." He stood up at walked back to the tray and picked up the knife, looking at it, twirling it around in his hands.

"Ya see, no matter how, at the end of all of this, you're gonna be mine, and he's gonna die. Whether his death is slow and painful, or quick and merciful, is up to you."

He gripped the knife once again in his hand, walking back over to Mick. He stood behind his brother, and raised the knife around him, pushing it up against his neck. He grabbed his brother by the side of the head, and looked at me.

"So luv, what's it gonna b-"
"Yo Sniper! The REDs are attackin'!"

The voice of the BLU Scout was heard from the door of the room, Mitch cursed under his breath, his grip tightening on Mick's face. Before he did anything rash however, he let go.

He stood up and started walking towards the door, talking as he did so.

"Unfortunately luv, I gotta go now. You have until I get back to decide."

He opened the door and turned to me.

"Choose wisely luv."

And with that, the door shut.