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Defying The Odds: 13 - Michael Scofield x Reader Series

Words in Total: 3.8k

Pairings: Michael Scofield x Reader: afab x reader

Synopsis: Y/N was a victim of the mob since the age of fifteen, however, falling in love with the wrong guy and having an argument got her 25 years in prison for murder. She had a plan to get out in faith of her husband until she met Michael Scofield, who, despite his plan, fell in love with her. Now she has the mob and Michael Scofield's escape to worry about.

Warnings: Swearing, Prison, Intimacy, Murder, etc. you know the deal...

A/N: this is a complete series of ~105k words. Based on Season 1 & 2.

Hope you enjoy :)

Masterlist

Y/N watched as dozens of officers and guards move away. Squad cars and SUVs speed away into the night while some hurried-on foot. They were there, hiding in the ally port in the trees. Michael was next to Y/N watching in front of them.

“Yo, come on, man we gotta roll,” C-Note worried.

“You don’t got to do anything but wait right here and let them get ahead of us,” Michael stated, watching the cops in front of him.

“I don’t know if we’re gonna get a chance, papi,” Sucre said.

“Dogs,” Y/N whispered, spotting the German Shepards up ahead. “Fuck,” she mumbled.

“They’re coming right for us,” Sucre stressed.

“Nobody move,” Michael ordered.

The dogs came, slowly but surely as they were loaded into the truck. Everyone stayed quiet. Michael whispered, “They can’t smell us.” However, the dogs started barking loudly.

“But they can see us,” Y/N hissed.

Officers came with flashlights, slowly to them looking for the fugitives. However, they all stayed quiet. The dogs continued to keep barking, but they made a move for it.

All of a sudden, Michael ushered them to run. Through the trees, bushes and grasses. They ran for what felt like forever. Eventually, they got to an old mill. They all crouched down.

“Where the hell is the van?” Sucre questioned.

Silence.

“Eyetie, where in the hell is the van?” C-Note asked.

“Ye of little faith…Come on, come on,” Abruzzi said.

Michael grasped for Y/N’s hand, pulling her along as they ran. They found the van and all got in. Michael bashed the lights of the van telling them about being invisible. He got back in the van, sitting in front of Y/N despite wanting to sit next to her. He turned around, looking at her and she smiled. “It’s gonna be ok,” he whispered as he leaned in, kissing her cheek. “We made it out.”

“John, where are the keys?” Lincoln asked from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Haywire asked.

“They keys, where are they?” Lincoln pressed.

“I told you, in the garbage can by the trees in a plastic bag,” Abruzzi said.

“What are you waiting for?” Lincoln spat at Haywire.

“Oh, the keys…” Haywire mumbles, getting out.

Once he was gone, Abruzzi gave the keys to Lincoln. The van turned on and then it went, leaving Haywire behind.

They were driving down the road when T-Bag spoke up. “Hey, John, I’ve got to ask you why you were so intent on Lincoln driving here and you taking that particular seat?”

“T-Bag you stole my fucking spot,” Y/N spat.

“Wanna sit with your boyfriend, sweet cheeks? Too bad.” T-Bag mused. “Now, John, what is it exactly you got up underneath there, huh?” He revealed handcuffs and quickly cuffed Michael’s hand.

“Fuck!” Y/N exclaimed watching the whole thing. `

“What the hell are you doing?” Michael spat, seeing his hand cuffed to T-Bag.

Abruzzi held up a gun to T-Bag’s temple. “You think that will stop me?” Michael kept pulling against the cuffs.

Michael looked at T-Bag absolutely infuriated by his actions. “Think twice, Johnny boy. Hm? You shoot me, Pretty here’ll be draggin’ around 170 pounds of dead Alabama flesh with me. And considern’ how much you need to get this Fibonacci vendetta of yours, huh? I just don’t think you’re gonna be pullin’ that trigger,” T-Bag taunted, breathy.

“No?” Abruzzi said, cocking the gun.

“You’re gonna give me the key to those cuffs, T-Bag,” Michael threatened. “Give me the key, you son of a bitch,” he spat. Michael looked for the keys, but T-Bag expressed that they were between his teeth. Michael grasped him by the throat.

“Come on. Spit it out!”

“Spit it out!” Y/N yelled.

However, T-Bag swallowed it.

“You fucking bastard,” Y/N barked, slamming the back of the chair.

The van kept going, but the tension was high. Y/N stood up and leaned over the chair to pop her head next to Michael. “It’s gonna be ok,” she whispered. “We’ll get you out even if I have to fucking slice his hand off.”

“Y/N, not now,” Michael responded.

“If you think I won’t gut you myself to get that key,” Abruzzi threatened, gun in hand. “You’re in for a big surprise.”

“I encourage you to remember the last time you came at me with a knife…” T-Bag mocked.

“Shut up! Shut up! Both of you!” Michael yelled, getting frustrated. “You can settle this in Mexico.”

“How far to the airstrip?” Lincoln asked.

“I guess five miles, maybe,” Michael muttered.

Y/N leaned back and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Sucre then began to mutter about his girl and her pregnancy when Lincoln broke the conversation as there were police cars up ahead.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered, grasping onto the seat.

The van pulled over and conversations began to talk about what is next. It was the only road, and they wouldn’t make it on foot. However, they agreed to go off the road, but the van got stuck. Everyone got out.

Michael was still attached to T-Bag as everyone pushed the van, but no hope. More bickering happened as Y/N watched.

If women were in charge of this, it would’ve been a completely different story. How, she was ready to see another woman again and get far away from a community of men. They agreed to run.

Michael stayed with T-Bag as he looked at Tweener. Y/N turned around, walking back to see them talking.

“This is as far as you go, my friend,” Michael said, halting Tweener.

“What? No, you can’t leave me out here, not like this,” Tweener replied.

“We had a deal, remember?” Michael stated.

“Yeah, but come on, bro…” he scoffed.

“You and I, we’re not bros,” Michael pressed. “And I don’t think you want me telling the guys what I know. Now walk.”

Y/N’s eyes were fixed between the two. “Good luck,” Y/N muttered, voice sincere as she began to run with Michael and T-Bag as helicopters came. They hid from them by the cliff.

They made it to a car which wouldn’t start as the engine was gone. Y/N sat on the hill with Michael, looking out. Therefore, they continued to run to an old warehouse/barn. Y/N stopped, catching her breath. However, as soon as Michael and T-Bag got in, hands were on them as they pulled T-Bag against a table. Pliers were found and Sucre tried to separate them but they were no good. Michael was getting more and more frustrated…Y/N had never seen him like this before. She stood away, letting the men work.

T-Bag began to chuckle, but Abruzzi found a axe and all of sudden, chopped his hand off.

Screams, loud and hot happened as Michael stepped away, shocked.

“He’s lucky I didn’t take this to his head,” Abruzzi stated out of breath.

Y/N just watched, eyes widened as she got flash backs to Sebastian and the rat a year and a half ago when he did the exact same thing. She walked into it in the basement of their villa in Italy.

“You cut his… You cut his…” Sucre mumbled in disbelief and shock.

Y/N saw how panicked Michael was and went straight to him. He was cradling his hand and Y/N took it. “Hey, hey,” she whispered, before cupping his cheek. “It’s me. Take a deep breath. Think of five things you can see,” she tried to calm him down. However, his eyes were focused on the hand on the ground.

Then they were on the move again.

-

Warden Henry Pope had to make a call to the governor because Frank Tancredi’s daughter was now a fugitive

“Yes, this is Warden Henry Pope at Fox River Penitentiary. I need to speak to the Governor,” Pope said. The line clicked through before Frank’s voice cut through. “Governor, I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s been an–“

“Are you watching this?” Frank cut through.

“Watching what?”

“I suggest you turn on your TV, Warden.”

“I understand that, but your daughter has just escaped my prison and is on the lose.”

The line went dead.

-

Running and more running. They stopped behind some trees. Police cars came by.

“The airstrips on the other side of that field,” Michael told them. “Just 500 yards, and this whole thing’s over.”

“He’s not moving,” Sucre expressed.

“Every second we stay here is another change for them to find the plane,” Abruzzi says.

“Not shit,” Y/N muttered.

“We got to go now.”

“Wait, wait,” Michael said grabbing Abruzzi’s arm. A police car came racing by. “All right, let’s go. Let’s go.”

Then they were off again. Running and running.

“Freeze, don’t move!” a police officer said.

However, they kept on running. They ran across the field towards the plane. They spotted it, but it began to move. Police cars came racing by trying to capture them. Y/N knew…she knew then and there that they were going to miss it. It was moving and they were ot fast enough.

However, as Michael says…have a little faith.

But they missed it. Police cars came.

“What do we do now?”

“We run,” Michael said, grabbing Y/N hand and pulling her across the field.

-

It’s been hours of running, over night and through the morning.

“What the hell is that?”

In the distance, a train whistle went, and they all walked a few steps to see.

“Let’s go,” Lincoln says, running. “All we got to do is make it to the other side,” Lincoln yelled, running up to the train.

Michael and Y/N were behind, as they continued to run. They watched as Lincoln and Sucre made their way through the train. Michael got up, grabbing onto Y/N’s hand and helping her up before going inside. Bellick shot a fire at them but missed.

Then they got out on the other side of the train, running further. Then the race continued. Panting occurred as they finally stopped.

“I thought I thought this out. I thought… You saw all those guys back there?” Sucre said out of breath.

“The key is, they’re back there and we’re up here,” Michael said, trying to calm everyone down.

“How long is that gonna last?” Sucre pipped, unsure.

“Especially since we don’t have a pot to piss in, thanks to Abruzzi’s magically disappearing jet,” C-Note said, pointing to the mobster.

“Hey, you were never gonna be on that plane, brother,” Abruzzi responded.

“Don’t think I don’t know where you were going either,” C-Note said, pointing to Michael.

“And where am I going?”

“I don’t know. Utah?” C-Note exclaimed. “When were you planning on telling us about the money, man?”

“What money?” Sucre pipped up.

“The $5 million that Westmoreland planted in the desert in Utah,” C-Note shared.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Michael muttered, walking forward.

“You wish I didn’t know,” C-Note mocked.

“Wait, wait, what money?” Sucre exclaimed.

-

Michael, Lincoln and Y/N were sitting on a dock. Y/N was focused on the water, feeling the sweat against her body as she let her feet dangle off the edge.

“We need to dump them, now,” Lincoln said.

“Can’t. They know about Utah,” Michael told him glancing around.

“All the more reason to dump them,” Y/N muttered from behind Michael. He glanced over to see her looking at the water. “They are just bringing us down.”

“If they get caught, the Feds will know exactly where we’re going,” Michael explained. “They’ll tell them. We just gotta make sure they stay afloat till we’re off in Utah, doing what we got to do.”

“You really think the money is going to be there?” Lincoln asked.

“Charles might have had a flexible relationship with the truth. But at the end… At the end there’d be no reason for him to lie about it. I figure, once we bag it, we cross over into Mexico. Take a whole bunch of bumpy, second-class bus rides till we hit Panama.”

“You really got a fix on this dive shop thing, huh?” Lincoln joked.

“Yeah,” Michael chuckled. “Right now, I wouldn’t mind swinging in a hammock for the next ten, twenty years.”

“We got half the country after us,” Y/N said moving to sit next to Lincoln. “We aren’t going to make it to Utah or Panama.”

“Not without help,” Lincoln added.

“Veronica can’t help us,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“How can you say that? We don’t have money, clothes…”

“I already got all that,” Michael explained.

“I thought the plan was Abruzzi’s jet,” Lincoln said.

“Abruzzi’s jet was Plan A.”

Michael shared that they were going to a place where he stored things. As they walked back, Michael explained they need to go somewhere so they can not look like cons however, a figure appeared.

“Hi,” a little girl said.

Y/N looked at her and then took a step. “Hi,” Y/N said, kneeling down.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’re just fishing,” C-Note said, coming to crouch near the little girl.

“With no poles?”

“We like to fish with our hands,” C-Note explained.

“Yeah, hand fishing,” Sucre chuckled.

“I think the question is, what are you doing out here?” Michael asked, walking over.

“Hunting,” she said. Her name was then called out.

Her father appeared and instantly, he had a gun and explained to get away from his daughter. “You’re those guys from Fox River. Don’t any of you move a freaking muscle.” The man began to yell to get away from her. Y/N and C-Note got up and began to walk away.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Y/N said, hands up. However, she was calculating, eyes darting around to see what she can do.

Then Abruzzi grabbed the little girl and pointed the gun in the father’s direction. Yelling occurred between the two parties, but Michael stayed calm and collected. “John, let go of the girl.”

However, it escalated. Abruzzi kept demanding to put the gun down and threatened to shoot. The man eventually put the gun down.

Y/N went and grabbed the gun, holding it in her hand as Abruzzi let the girl go and she ran back. Michael asked where his car was and demanded the keys.

Y/N handed the gun to Sucre and followed after Michael. They all got into the car and drove to Oswego. -

In the cramped, dimly lit interior of the stolen car, the tension was palpable. The quiet hum of the engine and the occasional sound of tires rolling over the cracked highway filled the silence. Y/N sat in the back seat, wedged between C-Note and Sucre, her gaze fixed on the window as the world sped by in a blur. She barely heard Abruzzi muttering directions to Lincoln from the passenger seat or the hushed conversation between Sucre and C-Note. Her mind was somewhere else—far away from the chaos of their escape.

Michael sat beside her, his eyes constantly scanning the road, the tension in his body mirroring the weight they all carried. He glanced at Y/N, noticing the distant look in her eyes, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. He leaned closer, his voice soft and concerned. "You okay?"

Y/N blinked, her focus shifting slowly to Michael. For a moment, she didn’t answer, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, she let out a deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper. "I ruined him, Michael."

Michael frowned, his brows knitting together as he leaned in slightly. "Who?"

"Remington," she said, her voice thick with guilt. "He helped us… and now his career, his life—it’s over. I manipulated him. Lied to him. He didn’t deserve any of this."

Michael’s face softened as he placed a gentle hand on her knee. "You didn’t have a choice, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. We all did."

Y/N shook her head, her voice wavering as the weight of her actions pressed down on her. "He trusted me. I played with his emotions, made him believe in me. And now, he’s going to lose everything—his license, his reputation, maybe even his freedom. He could go to prison for what he did."

Michael’s hand remained on her knee, his thumb brushing in slow circles. "I know it’s hard, but Remington made his own choice. You didn’t force him to help us. He did it because he believed in you."

"But he’s a good man," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And I used him just like I used people before. I promised myself I’d never do that again."

Michael sighed, leaning back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "I know. But we’re all running from something in here. And sometimes, the lines we swore we’d never cross get blurred. You didn’t mean to hurt him, Y/N. And when this is over… you’ll have the chance to make things right."

Y/N nodded, though the guilt still weighed heavily on her chest. The thought of Remington—his life shattered because of her—made it hard to breathe. She bit her lip, forcing herself to hold back the flood of emotion threatening to spill over.

"I just hope he forgives me," she whispered, her voice barely audible as the car sped on into the dark night.

Michael’s hand squeezed her knee gently, offering her a quiet, unspoken reassurance. But the heaviness in her heart remained.

“Where’s Oswego?” Lincoln asked.

“Half a mile, maybe,” Michael responded.

-

They got to a storage unit where they got shovels. Eventually, they got to a graveyard and stopped in front of a gravel. They all began to dig including Y/N. Still dressed like cons, they all focused on the task at hand.

“Somebody’s gonna see us,” C-Note said.

“Keep digging,” Y/N responded, a little grumpy from the lack of food, water and sleep.

“We’re gonna go to hell, guys. Swear to God, we’re gonna go to hell,” Sucre whispered.

Y/N got out of the hole while Michael gave her a trash bag. She pulled it up and placed it beside her. Michael opened the bag and began to pull out clothes, handing it to people. “Originally, this was supposed to be a week’s worth of clothes for me and Linc. But I figured you all need just as much as help as we do, so…” Michael explained.

“You’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, Fish?” Abruzzi retorted.

“That’s right, John. The heart. You remember what that is, don’t you?”

“Damn, Snowflake. This is tight, man,” C-Note said.

“It’s like I said, we gotta stop being cons,” Michael stated, handing Y/N a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt, “and start being civilians.”

Everyone began to dress, but Y/N stayed still. Her eyes looked over them and Michael saw her, holding the clothes. “Behind me,” he said. She walked around and stood behind him as he turned, holding out his old sweater to block her. Y/N quickly changed.

Michael walked over to Linc, throwing a backpack. “Money, passports, prepaid phone cards.” Then he glanced at Y/N who looked at them. “But I didn’t expect to meet you, so–“

“–It’s fine,” she muttered. “I didn’t expect to meet you either.”

Michael walked over to her, his fist out, clenched. She put her hand out and opened it for him to put something in. He did and she looked down.

“My wedding and engagement ring,” she muttered.

“That’s one big rock,” Michael chuckled. “Must have loved you a lot.”

“Yeah, must’ve,” she whispered. Then she looked at the rest of the jewellery in her hand. Cartier bracelets and one ring beside her wedding tokens from Sebastian as well. “Pawn them,” she said. “We can make a lot. One of these bracelets alone costs like five thousand dollars and I swear my ring is at least thirty grand. It’s all gold,” she muttered. Michael took them back and placed them in the backpack.

Lincoln began to look at the passports, chuckling. Michael glanced over. “We’ll get you one.”

“If we get to my apartment in New York, I have five,” she responded. “Mob life,” she shrugged.

“Five fake passports?” he asked, and she simply nodded.

Lincoln pulled out keys and held them. “These?” he asked, holding the keys out.

“The keys to a car that’s waiting for us a couple of hundred yards from here,” Michael explained as he did up his tie.

“She’s coming?” he nodded to Y/N.

Michael nodded. “Indeed.”

“So, it’s the three of us or the six of us?” Lincoln asked.

“That’s the three of us,” Michael stated.

“They know?” Y/N asked, looking over to the group.

“Not yet,” Michael said.

Then, a dark SUV began to pull up, and Y/N sighed. Here they go again…on the run. Always on the run. Michael took a hard look at the guy, adjusting his tie as he narrowed. How did he know? He continued to stare at this man, almost as if hatred ran through him.

“We got go, hun,” Y/N said, tugging his hand. Then they were off again. They ran down some train tracks to the middle of the town, where they began to walk. Y/N threw her hair into a ponytail, before putting on her baseball cap and tucking the pony out the back. Michael caught up to her, walking beside her.

“You look quite dashing in your suit,” she stated, looking ahead. “Can imagine life before this…you this big-time structural engineer, all tailored in sharp, fine suits. Delicious,” she hummed.

Michael chuckled; however a man stopped them to ask the time which freaked Michael out slightly.

They got to a warehouse and Y/N stood in the corner while Lincoln walked off to make a call. She adjusted the pants as they were totally not her size and the shirt clung to her like cling-film.

Michael glanced over, seeing her adjusting her clothes. “You ok?” he asked coming up.

“Yeah, just this bra is not doing wonders with all the running,” she chuckled. “But, its ok. Just no support.”

He nodded. “Didn’t think to pack a bra,” he muttered.

Y/N looked at him. “Why would you? Didn’t expect me in your life,” she stated, tying the pants.

“Are you in pain though?” he asked. “With like no support?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m ok.”

Just then, Lincoln began to stumble back, falling to the ground and Michael and Y/N went over, leaning down beside him. He began to hyperventilate. Y/N began to rub his back, telling him to breathe.

Veronica was dead and Steadman was alive.

However, their proof was locked away in a safe house.

-

Here you go!

Hope you enjoy :)

I had so much fun writing this.

Much love,

Ava <3

-

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